Page 12 of There's Pumpkin About You
Any evidence of a thick and electric atmosphere has dissipated, and in its place is a stuffy awkwardness.
“I should go.” I repeat.
With one last sparing look towards Gus, I pick up my now cold coffee and leg it out of the office.
ChapterSix
GUS
Since Bash is the most annoying idiot in my life right now, I’ve somehow ended up on Main Street, heading towards the bakery for some fucking tarts. Wren, thankfully, has headed home to—according to her—continue researching food and drink options for the party.
God, she infuriates me. She gives me the same look the rest of the town does, with her fancy clothes and perfectly manicured nails, she looks as if every conversation with me is an inconvenience. Which is why I can’t figure out for the life of me why she ends up using those nails to crawl her way into my thoughts every hour. I need her gone and I need her gone fast.
The main street leads out of town one way, and towards the lake at the other end. After finding somewhere to park, I start pacing down the street, very aware that I still have an unending pile of paperwork to sort out back at the farm. Several people send curious looks in my direction, curious as to what Gus Finch could possibly be doing so far from the farm with his bad attitude and blunt conversation.
The most heavenly smell reaches my nose, letting me know that I’m finally outside of “Doughnut Miss This”, a brand-new bakery that some new girl opened about a month ago. The sweetness of sugar and the faintest hint of lemon mix together and even if I wasn’t here for Bash, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to resist.
I’ve dealt with Wren Southwick for the second time this week, I deserve a treat, don’t I?
I open the door and step in, a bell above me ringing as I enter. A woman stands behind the counter, restocking the lemon tarts in the display. She seems to be around Wren’s age, large round glasses surrounding shy eyes. I push my own further up my nose as she offers the only other person in the store a kind smile.
“Did you want anything else other than the strawberry tart, Cally?”
Cally Ranson smiles back before shaking her head. “No, thanks, Lori. My husband would kill me if he saw me buying even one.” When Lori pauses at her words, Cally adds, “We’re supposed to be doing a workout program together which includes no sugar for two months.”
Lori visibly relaxes, and I find myself wondering what I’ve just missed within Cally’s words to support such a reaction. “No worries, I promise I won’t tell.”
“You’re the best.”
Lori spots me and gives a shy wave. “Hiya. I’m Lori. Welcome to Doughnut Miss This.”
“Hi,” is all I say in return.
When Cally hears my voice, she spins around, shock quickly turning to distaste.
“August Finch,” she says.
“Gus,” I correct her.
She looks me up and down before snapping herself out of whatever trance her shock put her in. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“I live here.”
“Gus Finch,” Lori buts in. “You own the farm down the road, right?”
“Yeah.”
She nods in confirmation. “Yeah, I’ve heard… of… you.”
I grunt, but don’t ask anything else. I already know the type of shit she’s going to have heard. Cally huffs out a humorless laugh, but when she sees me watching her, she stares at me for a few seconds before blinking nervously and taking a step back.
Everyone falls into an awkward silence as Lori and Cally both watch the ground with an uncomfortable level of interest. I don’t know what I can do in this moment to explain to Lori that whatever shit people spread about me isn’t anywhere near the truth, but at the same time I don’t really care enough to do so. Is there a tightness in my chest as someone who has never met me before looks almost scared to look me in the eye? Sure, but that’s not my problem. I want to yell “Next time, do what Wren did and find out for yourself instead of listening to futile gossip.” Yes, Wren still hates me anyway, but at least she took the time to see for herself. There I go thinking of Wren Southwick again.
“Did you want to order something?” Lori asks from behind the counter, eyes flicking from me to Cally like she’s watching a tennis match.
Grateful for the segue, I reply, “Yeah. Two strawberry tarts for my brother.”
She gets to work and I maneuver myself around Cally to get closer to the counter.
