Page 136 of Only Fate

I shoot her areallylook.

She gasps, placing her hand to her chest. “Not me. I’ve been the captain of the welcome commitee with you.”

“In the beginning? Hell no, you weren’t.”

“Not many people would be jumping for joy if the man who had broken their heart came to their townandalso stole the business they wanted to buy.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal anything. I had no idea you wanted Terrance’s firm. All I knew was that the firm gave me a chance to come here, where I knew you’d be.” I spin us around, moving us in the opposite direction. “But I must admit, the longer I’ve been here, the more welcoming you’ve become.”

“Well, I’d better be the only one who’swelcoming.”

I whistle. “Is that a little jealousy coming from you?”

“I don’t know. Wouldyoube jealous if I werewelcomingsomeone else?”

“Abso-damn-lutely. Jealousy isn’t a common trait for me to have unless it comes to you.”

She bows. “Then, I’d like to say I’m honored, counselor.”

I grin. “I love it when you speak legal talk to me.”

As we move farther into the festival, I start seeing familiar faces.

“Aunt Essie!” a shrieky girl’s voice calls out.

We turn to find a little girl running in our direction. Easton follows close behind her. A stuffed cow is in her hand, and her face is painted like a giraffe.

She runs into Essie’s legs, and Essie bends down to hug her.

“This is Jasmine,” Essie tells me. “Easton’s daughter.”

When Jasmine pulls away, I notice the resemblance to Easton.

The same dark hair and nose.

I’ve heard Easton mention his daughter a few times. I think he’s the only one with a child in Essie’s circle of friends.

Jasmine holds up her stuffed animal. “I won this!”

Easton laughs, coming up behind her.

Jasmine frowns, biting into her lower lip. “Okay, my daddy won it. But I picked the prize!” She waves the cow in the air. “And now, we’re about to get a caramel apple!”

Easton hugs Essie and then says hi to me. “They have a caramel apple station over there if you’re interested?”

Essie pays me a glance, and I shrug.

“We might stop by on our walk back,” she tells him. “I’ll burst if I eat another bite.” She points toward my abuela’s booth. “Make sure you stop by there and try the pastries. They’re delicious.”

Easton salutes us. “You two have fun.”

I’ve also learned Easton is a man of few words.

He and Jasmine head toward the caramel apple stand, and Essie and I keep walking toward the town circle, which is decorated with scarecrows and pumpkins. We pass a table with a sign that saysPumpkin Contest.

It’s lined with the best pumpkin art I’ve ever seen. Growing up, I could barely carve a pumpkin, let alone create one into a teakettle or Frankenstein.

“Did you participate in that?” I ask, jerking my head toward the table.

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