Page 18 of A Pack of Pumpkins
“What is this for?” she asks.
“You,” I say simply, sliding the plate toward her—a golden stack of pumpkin pancakes, dotted with melting chocolate chips, and thick-cut bacon crisped at the edges. A drizzle of maple pools on the plate, steam curling in the air between us.
Her lashes lower, but I don’t miss the small smile that tugs at her mouth. She picks up her fork, her shoulders softening.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
We eat in companionable silence, the only sounds the clink of cutlery and the occasional crackle of the candles. I watch her take that first bite, see the way her lips part on a small, pleased hum, and it’s worth everything.
I want her to have this every morning. A chance to be wrapped in autumn light, before the world claws its way back in.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks.
I nod. She can ask me anything.
“Why did you guys move here?”
I smile and lean forward on my elbows against the counter, lowering myself to eye level with her.
“Well, honestly… we’ve never really stayed in one place very long. Dagan and Victor run a social media empire of sorts—different topic every month. Bram writes horror, and he can do that from anywhere. And I work in computers.”
“In computers?” she repeats.
"Ethical hacking," I say, watching her reaction.
Her eyebrow arches, and her lips twitch in amusement. The expression squeezes my heart.
“How exactly does one ethically hack?” she asks, propping her chin on her little fist.
“I’m hired by the company I’m trying to hack,” I explain, “to see if their online security holds up. Mostly banks and financial systems, but I’ve worked for retailers, governments, even a few celebrities.”
Nowbotheyebrows shoot up.
“That sounds like an expensive service.”
I nod, even though she wasn’t really asking. “It definitely pays the bills.”
“And I’ve seen Bram’s name on the New York Times list,” she says. “So my question is… why did you choose a very reasonably priced rental in a small town like Lakeside Point? You said you could live anywhere. So why here?”
She has a good point.
“Actually, that’s kind of a weird story. We got a flyer. Kind of an invitation to apply in the mail. It was oddly specific—mentioned the haunted vibe of the house for Bram, and the shipwreck off the coast for Victor and Dagan to use in their social media series.”
She perks up at that.
“It was tailored for us. But I wouldn’t say it was cheap—it’s comparable to the rest of the area.”
Her brow furrows. “I got the same flyer. But mine said the house was fully furnished and that the first year’s rent was deeply discounted. Two things I was definitely looking for.”
I pause, frowning. “Maybe they sent out tailored flyers across the country?” We were living in Tennessee before this. That sounds far-fetched even as I say it.
She gives me a deadpan look. The kind that says,Really?
I chuckle and reach out to rub my thumb over the crease between her brows, smoothing the worry away. Her expression shifts into something heatedand soft. I let my thumb drift over the ridge of her nose, grazing her plump bottom lip and tugging it gently.
Clara leans into my touch.
A low purr rumbles in my chest.
