“Of course, dear, you go right ahead.” She checked the window again and Kelly saw frustration on the woman’s face when Micah didn’t show up to be watched. “I’ve got things to do myself.”
Kelly watched the woman hustle back across the street, her bright pink sneakers practically glowing against all of the fallen leaves littering the ground. The ancient oaks that lined the street stretched out gnarly branches to almost make an arbor of gold-and-red leaves hanging over the wide road.
The houses were all different, everything from small stone cottages to the dignified Victorian where Kelly had grown up. They were all at least a hundred years old, but they were well cared for and the lawns were tidy. People in Banner stayed. They were born here, grew up here and eventually married, lived and died here.
That kind of continuity always comforted Kelly. She’d lived here since she was eight and her parents were killed in a car accident. She’d moved in with her grandparents and had become the center of their world. Now, her grandfather was dead and Gran had moved to Florida, leaving the big Victorian mansion and the caretaker’s cottage at the back of the property to Kelly. Since living alone in that giant house would just be silly, Kelly rented it out and lived in the smaller cottage.
In the last three years, the Victorian had rarely been empty and when it wasn’t rented out by vacationers, the house and grounds had become a favorite place for weddings, big parties and even, last year, a Girl Scout cookout in the huge backyard.
And, she thought, every Halloween, she turned the front of the Victorian into a haunted house.
“Have to get busy on that,” she told herself. It was already the first of October and if she didn’t get started, the whole month would slip past before she knew it.
Halfway up to the house, the front door opened and Micah stepped out. Kelly’s heart gave a hard thump, and down low inside her she felt heat coil and tighten. Oh, boy. It had been four long years since her husband, Sean, had died, and since then she hadn’t exactly done a lot of dating. That probably explained why she continued to have this over-the-top reaction to Micah.
Probably.
He wore a black leather jacket over a black T-shirt tucked into the black jeans he seemed to favor. Black boots finished off the look of Dangerous Male and as she admired the whole package, her heartbeat thundered loud enough to echo in her ears.
“Need some help?” he asked, jerking his head toward the wheelbarrow she was still holding on to.
“What? Oh. No.” Great, Kelly. Three. Separate. Words. Care to try for a sentence? “I mean, it’s empty, so not heavy. I’m just taking it around to the back.”
“Okay.” He came down the wide front steps to the brick walkway lined with chrysanthemums in bright, cheerful fall colors. “I’m taking a break. Thought I’d drive around. Get my bearings.”
“After two months of being in Banner?” she asked, smiling. “Yeah, maybe it’s time.”
His mouth worked into a partial smile. “Any suggestions on the route I should take?”
She set the wheelbarrow down, flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and thought about it. “Just about any route you take is a pretty one. But if you’re looking for a destination, you could drive through the canyon down to 89. There are a lot of produce stands there. You could pick me up a few pumpkins.”
He tipped his head to one side and studied her, a flicker of what might have been amusement on his face. “Did I say I was going shopping?”
“No,” she said, smiling. “But you could.”
He blew out a breath, looked up and down the street, then shifted his gaze back to hers. “Or, you could ride with me and pick out your own pumpkins.”
“Okay.”
He nodded.
“No,” she said. “Wait. Maybe not.”
He frowned at her.
Having an audience while she argued with herself was a little embarrassing. She could tell from his expression that Micah didn’t really want her along so, naturally, she really wanted to go. Even though she shouldn’t. She already had plenty to do and maybe spending time with Micah Hunter wasn’t the wisest choice, since he had the unerring ability to stir her up inside. But could she really resist the chance to make him as uncomfortable as he made her?
“I mean, sure,” she said abruptly. “I’ll go, but I’d have to be back in a couple of hours. I have a house to show this afternoon.”
His eyebrows arched high on his forehead. “I can guarantee you I won’t be spending two hours at a pumpkin stand.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “So? Are you coming or not?”
Her eyes met his and in those dark brown depths, Kelly read the hope she would say no. So, of course, she said the only thing she could.
“I guess I am.”
“Why are you buying pumpkins when you’re growing your own?”
They were already halfway down the twisting canyon road. The mountains rose up on either side of the narrow pass. Wide stands of pine trees stood as tall and straight as soldiers, while oaks, maples and birch trees that grew within those stands splashed the dark green with wild bursts of fall color.
“And,” Micah continued, “isn’t there somewhere closer you could buy the damn things?”
She turned her head to look at his profile. “Sure there is, but the produce stands have the big ones.”
Kelly could have sworn she actually heard his eyes roll. But she didn’t care. It was a gorgeous fall day, she was taking a ride in a really gorgeous car—even though it was going too fast for the pass—and she was sitting beside a gorgeous man who made her nervous.
And wasn’t that a surprise? Four years since her husband Sean had died and Micah was the first man to make her stomach flutter with the kind of nerves that she had suspected were dead or atrophied. The problem was, she didn’t know if she was glad of the appearance of those nerves or not.
Kelly rolled down the window and let the cold fall air slap at her in lieu of a cold shower. When she got a grip, she shifted in her seat to look at Micah. “Because I grow those to give away to the kids in the neighborhood.”
“And you can’t keep some for yourself?”
“I could, but where’s the fun in that?”
“Fun?” he repeated. “I’ve seen you out there weeding, clipping and whatever else it is you do to those plants. That’s fun?”
“For me it is.” The wind whipped her ponytail across her face and she pushed it aside to look at him. “Besides, if I was going to take lessons on fun from somebody, it wouldn’t be you.”
He snorted. “If you did, I’d show you more than pumpkins.”
Her stomach swirled a little at the implied promise in those words, but she swallowed hard and stilled it. He was probably used to making coded statements designed to turn women into slavering puddles. So she wouldn’t accommodate him. Yet.
“I’m not convinced,” she said with a shrug. “You’ve been in town two months and you’ve hardly left the house.”
“That’s work. No time for fun.”
“Just a chatterbox,” she mumbled. Every word pried out of him felt like a victory.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “So, what’s