She tapped one that was by the edge. “This one has a nice, broad face. Perfect for an elaborate design.”
I lifted it out and put it in the little pull-behind trailer next to her.
Her grin widened, and it was like I’d opened the floodgates. “I was eyeing this one. See this blemish? It’d make a perfect witch’s wart. Oh, and this one has such a nice stem, I might not even carve it.”
She went through three more and insisted I choose the next ones. Since she’d put actual thought into her selection, I did the same. “I’m going to carve a game controller.”
“That’ll look awesome. I’ll buy some tea lights. We’re going to have the craziest porch in the county.”
After I made all my selections, I took the handle of the wagon. “I can load these and come back for your food container.”
“Oh, it’s already been packed, along with a ton of leftovers. Evander’s mom is a sly one about cleaning up after.”
“We’re off dinner duty for a few days?”
“Lunch and dinner.” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “Truth be told, that leftover pulled pork sounds good for breakfast.”
“Then do it.”
We reached the pickup, and I loaded our stash in the bed. I’d put them in the garage to store until it was time to carve them. When we both got inside, she was quiet. As I drove us home, she didn’t make much conversation, staring out the passenger window.
I pulled into our drive and backed up to the garage. When I killed the engine, she didn’t move.
“Clover?” I asked softly.
She twisted her fingers together. “My dad talked to me.”
Since Weston had chatted with me too, she must mean it wasn’t idle chitchat. “Okay.”
She wet her lips, and seeing her tongue was just another item on the list of all things Clover I needed to forget in order to behave.
Well, I’d behave no matter what. But I’d remember how she moaned, her pert little nipples poking against her shirt, or that pink tongue. I was just asking for misery.
“He offered to have divorce papers drawn up,” she said deliberately. “I guess we’ll need them, but I said I’d talk to you.”
Disappointment gathered in my gut. No pumpkin harvest for me next year. Who would Clover pick out pumpkins with? “Yeah, we’ll need them.”
“Right.” She left her hands on her lap. “Do you have your own person?”
“It seems weird to say yes, but I do. The firm I used when I broke up my company has someone I could use.”
“My dad would pay for it.” Her offer was tentative. “Like an end-of-wedding gift.”
I puffed out a weak chuckle. “Who keeps the toaster?”
“You,” she said wryly. “You keep it all; you bought it.”
There was nothing about her statement that sounded good. “What will you do?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll talk to Alder. He might have a rental by then, but yeah. I should start looking for a place. You?”
“I should too.”
“Where?”
I rubbed my chin with my thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know. I’m not going anywhere near Nebraska.” That’d be too far from my niece or nephew. Too far from Clover. “I’m talking with a big potential investor, and two more have replied to my emails. That’s heartening. If I land that first account, it’ll be a springboard.”
“Really? How?”
