Page 26 of Pumpkin to Talk About

Unphased, he shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know. That’s how it goes in the movies. I thought that’s what I was supposed to say.”

A laugh bubbles up out of me as I shake my head incredulously. “I don’t know. I haven’t really known him long enough to be able to answer that.”

He looks at me with understanding, then takes a big gulp of beer and lets out a belch. Leave it to Old Man Peña to really drive a moment home.

“But you’d like to know him better. And fall in love.” He says it like it’s not a question. And it’s not, I guess. He’s right.

“Yeah,” I admit. “I would have liked the chance.”

“I hope you get it, then,” he says simply, then turns his attention to one of the televisions behind the bar. Conversation over, I guess. And I don’t feel any better about any of it. If anything, I feel worse.

The afternoon wears on. Patrons come in and out. The terrible Halloween playlist is still crackling through the speakers, even though Halloween is over. Eventually, I just unplug the MP3 player and turn up the football game. We hit a lull, and I start cleaning out the soda machine for something to do.

My back is to the door, and I’m on the other side of the bar from it when it opens and closes. “I’ll be right with you,” I call from where I’m crouched under the bar. I hear whoever it is take a seat as the torn leather squeaks underneath them.

“Well, well, well,” the newcomer drawls. I go completely still. I glance up at Old Man Peña, but he’s glued to the game and completely stone-faced.

Thanks for the help, Old Man.

But it can’t be Mike. He’s landed in Indiana by now. This is just wishful thinking. It has to be. I stay where I am to let my heart calm down.

“If it isn’t Bonnie Bluebell Allen, as I live and breathe,” the newcomer says.

And that’s when I’m sure. I leap up and whirl around to face Mike Page, sitting at the bar, looking as calm and suave and gorgeous as ever.

“Mike,” I say. “How… What…”

His smile stretches wide across his face. “I delayed my flight.”

“For how long?” I ask.

“Two weeks. I’d have come here sooner, but I had to wait for another rental car. And I checked into a hotel. Annie would kill me if I stayed with her for that long—”

“Why?” I cut him off breathlessly.

His smile falters just a little. “For you. I mean, if you want. I do. Want to spend more time together, that is. Maybe see if we can give this thing between us a real shot.”

I gape at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He grows earnest, his grin completely falling. “I walked away from you once, Belle. I don’t intend to do it again.”

My hands fly to my face, covering my mouth as I laugh. “Oh my god. This… yes. Yes. I want that.” Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“Can you two kiss and get it over with so I can get back to my game?” Old Man Peña says.

I narrow my eyes at him and shake my head, but Mike stands and comes around the bar. He wraps me in his arms.

“Nice shirt,” he says.

“Thanks. I stole it from a guy.”

“Looks better on you, anyway.” And, with that, he kisses me deeply, right there behind the bar of The Broken Spur.

When we part, he laughs and says, “I’m happy as a hog in mud.”

I bark out a laugh. “That’s the most Texan thing I’ve ever heard.”

He winks. “I’m trying it on. What do you think?”