We head out, and I help her into the truck before rounding it to get in.
“Where are we going?” she asks, settling in and buckling her seat belt.
“Ah, if I tell you, then what would the surprise be?” I grin at her, then reach out to take her hand in mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be fun, promise.”
A short and relatively silent drive leads us to Baxter’s Pumpkin Palace, a Mage Hollow staple where you can do everything from getting lost in a corn maze to shopping for seasonal decor and picking your own pumpkins. It’s one of my favorite places and holds so many memories from my childhood.
“This is so cute. I can’t wait to see everything. Where should we start?” Olive asks, bouncing slightly with obvious excitement. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen her look completely comfortable, and I like it.
“Corn maze?” I suggest, unbuckling before once again rounding the truck to open her door.
“You know, I really am not trying to be rude, but you could have asked for a map like a sane person.” Olive stares at me before spinning in circles searching for a way out.
“Scared, princess?” I smirk at her, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I am most certainly not scared, but if we get stuck out here all night, I will never let you live it down. And quit calling me princess,” she huffs and crosses her arms, jutting a hip out. I chuckle to myself, grabbing her hand and leading her out of the corn maze.
“You know we weren’t ever really lost, right?”
“No, I think you got lucky.” She stifles a laugh and pats my arm lightly. “I’m not saying that I’m great at directions, but I do think if I hadn’t made that left turn fifteen minutes ago, we would have just kept going deeper and deeper until we were stuck for life.”
She’s playing defiant, but we have been having the time of our lives. Since the minute we left the house, it’s been quiet, stolen glances, nonstop laughter, and lighthearted jokes. This might be the best first date I’ve ever been on, and it’s magnified by the fact that it’s the first time she hasn’t immediately snapped her walls into place. I feel like we are getting somewhere, making progress.
“Want some warm apple cider?” I link our hands, noticing how soft and delicate hers are compared to mine.
“I would love that, thank you.” Olive hip checks me as we swing our arms back and forth walking toward the small food truck set up every year at the pumpkin patch.
We step up to order, and Olive practically drools over the cookies and pastries on the menu. “Should we get some dessert to share?” She gives me puppy dog eyes, but she doesn’t know I have that special treat from Mom hidden away under the seat in the truck.
“Nah, I’ve got something else in mind.” I wink at her, stepping closer to order two ciders to go.
“Sam, it’s a first date. What kind of woman do you take me for?” She eyes me wearily, like I might try something.
“Just come with me. You’ll see.” I grab our drinks, handing one to her, and lead us to my truck. Popping open the tailgate and patting it so she knows to sit, I open my door and pull out the plate of cookies. “Close your eyes, princess.”
“Okay, but seriously, you have to knock it off with that nickname. I promise I’m trying to be nice, but it’s driving me nuts.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and I plop the plate in her lap.“What’s this?” She peers down at the mound of cookies. “Di-did you bake for me?”
“Nope, must’ve been magic.” I slide onto the tailgate, sitting down next to her.
“What? You . . . You believe in magic?” Her question comes out breathy, almost like she’s shocked that I would say the word magic.
“Nope, not even a little. I know that’s not what someone from Mage Hollow is supposed to say. But I’ll never understand the obsession over something that is so clearly fictitious.” Olive doesn’t say anything; she stares at her shoes and swallows hard, instead. Does she believe in magic?
“Who, uh, who baked these then?”
“My mom did,” I admit, hoping it doesn’t scream,He’s a momma’s boy, and send her running for the hills.
Olive peels back the plastic wrap, grabbing a cookie and thrusting it into her mouth. “Ermaghad, tha womah is a wizah,” she mumbles around a mouthful, carefully chewing. “She bakes and cooks. She’s kind of amazing,” Olive clarifies after swallowing.
“I’ll make sure to tell her you said that. I almost ran her over on my way out of the driveway.” I shake my head thinking about my meddling mother, even if I’m a tad grateful for the assist here.
“What’s she normally like? I mean, when she isn’t trying to set you up on dates?” She takes a sip of her cider, gently wiping away a small drop that escaped on her lip with her thumb.
Shaking myself out of being mesmerized, I say, “Oh, um, she’s my mom. She’s funny, a great cook, and a supportive wife. What you see is what you get with her. She loves her family and works hard, but she’s a straight shooter.”
“I bet you and Max gave her a run for her money when you were growing up.” It’s not really a question, more of a known fact.
“Nah, I think the girls made it rougher on her than we ever did. They always had some drama going on. Max and I just did dumb stuff but nothing too terrible. What about your mom? What’s she like?”
