“That might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” She takes another bite, that blissful look still on her face. “I swear it’s like an orgasm for your mouth. Like a mouthgasm.”
Heat floods my cheeks and I sputter something about passing her compliments to the chef, which earns me one of those husky laughs I love so much.
“Maybe leave out the orgasm part,” she suggests as I stuff my cookie in my mouth.
That definitely won’t be an issue. My mom and I are close, but we’re notthatclose.
“You played a great game yesterday.” She cranes her head to look out the window, and I’m not sure if she’s taking in the colorful foliage of the mountains surrounding College Park or if she’s trying to figure out where we’re headed. “The team is 7-1 now, right?”
I nod. “It’s starting to feel like we might actually have a shot at the championship.”
We’re over halfway through the regular season and all our guys are healthy. We’ve got a few injuries here and there, but nothing major, which is a blessing in itself.
If we stay focused, we could go all the way.
“I don’t know how you do it.” Piper gives a self-deprecating laugh. “I barely survived midterms. I can’t imagine juggling school and a high-profile sport.”
“It’s intense, but other guys on the team have it worse. Reid and Coop are under constant scrutiny. The scouts are watching them like hawks, analyzing every move they make.” My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “I just don’t want to let them down.”
Piper’s hand settles on my thigh, a comforting weight to anchor me in the moment. “Anyone who watched yesterday’s game can see you’re giving it your all.”
I just hope it’s enough.
We round the bend and a hand-painted sign appears on the right side of the road.
“Are we going to a pumpkin patch?” she asks, voice climbing several octaves. “Please tell me we’re going to the pumpkin patch.”
“Even better.” I tap my blinker and pull off on the gravel drive, the Jeep throwing up a cloud of dust in our wake. “We’re visiting a pumpkin patch on a working farm.”
The squeal she releases is high enough to shatter glass, but I’m here for it.
After weeks of struggling to break through Piper’s defenses, seeing her let go is everything.
“They’ve got hay rides,” she says, reading the first of many white signs staked along the drive. “And a corn maze!”
Her enthusiasm is infectious. “Have you ever gone punkin chunkin?”
“I don’t even know what that is, but I’m game for anything.” She laughs and shakes her head as we bump along the gravel road leading to the parking lot. “I’ve always wanted to visit one of these places.”
“What’s been holding you back?” I ask, maneuvering the vehicle into the grassy lot.
“No time.” She shrugs. “I always figured I’d get around to it someday.”
“I used to think that way too, but then my grandfather passed…” I pull into an empty spot and throw the Jeep in park. “It’s cliché, but losing him taught me to make the most of every day.”
Because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.
Piper takes my hand, enveloping it within her own. “No child should ever have to learn that lesson.”
She’s right, but the powers that be clearly don’t give a shit about our opinions.
“What do you say we go find ourselves some pumpkins?”
19
PIPER
“Welcome to the Ross Family Farm.”
