Page 5 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
“Don’t apologise, Sam, this isn’t your fault! I hope the little guy’s okay. Hope you don’t get sick too.”
“I meant what I said the other day, you know. I really have had the spare room ready for you since you mentioned you might want out. I’ll let you know the moment this passes.”
“Seriously, don’t worry about me. I hadn’t even planned to go to yours today until you said.”
“Where were you gonna go, your parents’ house?”
“A hotel, a nice one, just for a couple nights to figure stuff out. Really glad we kept our finances separate.” Leonie rubbed her temples. “Drive safe, hey?”
“Call you this evening when he’s in bed. Get yourself a mani-pedi and some wine. Double wine for me.”
Footsteps approached as Leonie ended the call.
“Coming in on your left,” the café staffer said, his voice sparking a vague familiarity.
He set a plate down, and the smell of freshly heated pumpkin pie tart hit her. First the warm buttery shortcrust, then the sweet pumpkin, then the dusted garnish of mixed spices.
Cinnamon. Ginger. Nutmeg. Clove.
And that other one that rounded it all off, made her mouth water, wrapped her up in the welcoming hug of a trusted friend. There was a kind of magic in that spice blend, dreamy magic that transported Leonie to a time she felt at home, a time she remembered being happy.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up, and finally placing the voice.
3
“Hayden?”
Hayden looked into a face he’d recognise anywhere. He knew that hazy scent he smelled before seemed familiar. But when you’re wrist-deep in shortcrust dough, you can’t afford to let your mind wanter to things you’re better off forgetting. He’d spent enough years wondering what had happened to her, even hoping they might bump into each other at some shops or in a bar, or perhaps get “Perthed” while overseas on holiday. He’d thought of her way more than a guy should think about a long-lost friend from Year Seven.
And now here she was in the humble little café he ran with his siblings. Leonie Chin with her soft hair, sitting quietly at Deanne’s favourite table next to Lupe’s plant shelf. If he was in his wolf form, there’d be little he could do to stop his tail from wagging or stop his muzzle from prodding into her hand, seeking out that affectionate touch from a safe companion.
But that’s not how humans do things. So all Hayden could do was stand there, gaping like a stunned mullet.
“Sorry,” Leonie said. “I must be mixed up—”
“No,” Hayden interrupted, “it’s me, Leonie. Sorry, I . . . I just couldn’t believe it’s you. You look great!”
“Thank you. So do you.”
There was a festive red suitcase beside her. His eyes snapped back to hers and he noticed a pinkness around the edges. She’d been . . . crying?
“Are you off on holiday?” he asked, hoping they might be happy tears. He mustered as casual a tone as he could, despite sensing something amiss.
“Oh, ah . . .” Leonie glanced down. “No, I . . . I’ve left my husband.”
“Oh . . . I’m sorry. That’s awful. I shouldn’t have pried, sorry—”
“It’s okay, really, you didn’t know. It’s, ah, funny to be running into you while my life’s a hot mess.” A wry smile hinted at a Leonie he remembered.
“Are you all right? Do you have somewhere to go?” he asked.
“Yeah, I . . . well, yes but no. Do you remember Sam? I was going to stay with her, but her kid’s got gastro.”
“Samantha Jenkins, from Year Seven? She said you just disappeared.”
“That . . .” Leonie paused. “That’s a long story. But we bumped into each other at uni, of all places, and just seemed to pick up where we left off.” An uncomfortable expression clouded her face, one Hayden would intuit it a lot better if hewere shifted, but not indoors here—that’d be a fast track to harassment by health inspector, despite The Spice Pelage always passing muster.
“Don’t suppose you’re allowed to join me?” Leonie asked, gesturing to the empty chair opposite.
