Page 12 of Fall Surprises
"There's a pumpkin patch I want to hit this afternoon," he said as we pulled up to the inn. "Cullen's. They have the best pumpkins for carving, and Rory wants more for the inn. You’re coming, right?"
I should say no. I had work to do, calls to make, details to confirm. But when I looked at him—at the hope in his expression, like maybe he wanted my company—I heard myself say, "What time?"
"Three? That'll give you time to do some work—or maybe take a nap—and I need to process these apples for tomorrow's menu."
"Sounds good."
"See you then, Sam." He smiled at me, and my stomach flipped.
I watched him carry the baskets into the kitchen, then climbed the stairs to my room. When I checked my phone, I had seven missed calls from Emma and fifteen texts from various vendors.
But all I could think about was the warmth in Gus's eyes when he'd smiled at me, the way his voice had softened when he'd shared his story, and the fact that I hadn't checked my phone once in over an hour.
Maybe Rory had been right. Maybe I needed this more than I'd been willing to admit.
Maybe setting work aside for a few hours wasn't the end of the world.
I smiled at my reflection in the dark window, then tucked my phone back into my bag and zipped it closed.
Chapter Four
Gus
The clock over the stove read 2:47 when I finally wiped down the last cutting board. Three pies' worth of apple filling sat cooling on the counter, and the slow-cooker full of spiced cider filled the kitchen with cinnamon and cloves. I'd been working on autopilot for hours, my hands busy, while my mind kept circling back to the orchard—Sam laughing among the apple trees, going a full hour without checking her phone.
Bad idea, Ramsey.
I changed out of my chef's whites into clean jeans and a charcoal gray Henley, then grabbed my leather jacket. When I came downstairs, Sam was waiting by the front door in dark jeans tucked into boots and a rust-colored sweater that brought out the gold in her eyes. She'd left her hair down. The afternoon light from the windows caught the auburn highlights.
My pulse kicked up at the sight of her.
"Ready?" I grabbed my truck keys from the hook by the door.
"Ready." That same plaid scarf from this morning was wrapped around her neck.
The drive to Cullen's Pumpkin Patch took twenty minutes, winding through mountain roads that showed off Montana's October glory. I pointed out landmarks along the way—the turn-off to the hot springs, the trail that led to Wintervale Falls, the overlook where you could see three states on a clear day.
"You really love it here," Sam observed, thoughtful rather than judgmental.
"Wasn't expecting to," I admitted. "When Rory offered me the position, I just needed somewhere to disappear for a while. Figured I'd stay a few months, get my head together, move on. But Wintervale has a way of getting under your skin."
"I can see that." She gazed out the window at the passing scenery. "It's the kind of place people dream about when they're stuck in traffic in Denver."
"You ever think about leaving the city?"
She was quiet for a moment. "Sometimes. But my business is there, and most of my clients. Everything I've built."
"What made you want to be a wedding planner?"
Her laugh was quiet, almost sad. "It actually started with my parents' divorce. I was twelve, and everything fell apart so fast. One day we were a normal family, the next my dad was moving out and my mom was crying all the time. I became obsessed with the idea of happy celebrations, perfect moments that couldn't be ruined. If I could just make everything beautiful, then people would be happy. They'd stay."
The vulnerability in her voice hit me harder than it should have. "That's a hell of a burden for a kid."
"Yeah, well." She shrugged, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. "It worked out, I guess. Built a successful business out of my neuroses."
"Sam—"
"We're here," she interrupted, and I let her change the subject, filing away this new piece of information about what drove her need for control.
