Page 25 of Ella and the Enchanted Bookshop

Asher appeared behind her, a big grin on his face.

“Asher!” I exclaimed, both for his sake and for Casey’s. “What are you doing here?”

Casey gave me one more warning look before pasting a saccharine smile on her face. “How nice of you to visit again so soon,” she said. “Your dad must be so excited.”

“I’m happy to have him whenever he shows up,” his dad said with an affectionate grin as he clapped his son on the back. “I’m getting a bit spoiled now that he’s within driving distance.”

“That’s so sweet,” Casey said. Then she turned back to me. “I’ve moved the trailer up there. Let’s get Nevada loaded so we can go find our stall at the fairgrounds.”

And there she went. The rest of my night, according to Casey, should be filled with work. I’d had my fun, and now it was time for the rest of the family to have theirs.

“Actually,” Asher said, stepping forward, “I was planning on getting something to eat, and I thought Ella could show me where the best food truck might be.”

“You’re so sweet,” Casey said with her practiced laugh. “But I’m afraid I need Ella to load up her horse and then unload her again at our stall. It’s a big night for us to try to get new clients.” She paused, then her eyes lit up. “But Harper could show you the best food trucks.”

Harper stared at her mother in surprise before looking up at Asher, and smiling. “Sure.” I didn’t miss the way she touched her hair and batted her eyelashes at him, and it took everything in me not to roll my eyes and gag.

I turned to give Asher an apologetic look, but he was already stepping toward me, his arm outstretched. Taking my hand, he gave my stepmother a kind but firm smile. “Unfortunately, I’m not here for very long. I’ve got to head back tomorrow, so I think I’m going to steal her away for a bit.” And with that, he led me away from my stepmother and toward the fairgrounds where the crowd from the parade had begun to migrate.

“That was quite impressive,” I laughed as he tucked my arm into his.

He shrugged. “I do have to go back tomorrow. And I’ve got priorities. Which means I don’t have the time for her to waste.” His eyes glinted, and his mouth twitched.

I felt my face flush with pleasure as the warmth from his arm spread to my hand and up my own arm. At the risk of sounding cliché, my Prince Charming had come.

12

Cider and Confidences

Ilooked over at him. “So, you want to know which food truck is the best? There are at least ten worthy of tasting tonight, so the best I can do is give you a list, and you’ll have to taste at your own risk.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” he said, quirking one brow. “And I accept.”

We walked around that way, my arm tucked into his as I expounded the glories of each food truck, and I tried not to get too distracted by the warmth of his arm against mine. He eventually settled for Colorado craft bison brisket, and I had a steaming hot slice of pumpkin bread with melted butter and corn on the cob. Then I told him no Pumpkin Festival meal was complete without sampling the local apple cider.

We took our food to one of the dozen picnic tables that had been set out for the event and watched the crowd around us. Someone had started a touch football game in the middle of the park, and lots of families were either eating at the picnic tables or had spread blankets on the grass for their small children to eat on. Most of the people, however, were still perusing the booths, much as they did at the farmers market, and several carnival rides had been set up further down the green.

“Do you make a habit of driving six hours away every weekend?” I asked him, hoping I sounded teasing.

“I knew I’d be coming back a lot more when my dad moved here and I got stationed nearby,” he said before biting into the brisket. Then he let out a moan. “This is insanely good.”

I laughed. “Jacob would be glad to hear you say so.”

“To answer your question, though,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “no, I don’t usually drive this far all the time.”

I watched him, my heart hammering away in my chest. “So what made you decide to come today?”

He fixed me with a piercing gaze, his brown eyes seeming to see into my soul. Taking my hand, he lightly rubbed my knuckles with his thumb. Then he leaned forward, his eyes never once leaving me. When he answered me, his voice was low and smooth.

“For the brisket, of course.”

I stared at him for a second before yanking my hand out of his and throwing my wadded up napkin at him. He covered his face with his hands, laughing as he did. I shook my head but couldn’t help smiling. The man was ridiculous.

And I loved it.

After we finished eating, he took my hand and twined our fingers together before walking slowly past the line of booths.

“Where’s your stepmother’s booth,” he asked, “so we don’t accidentally walk by them?”