Page 30 of The Pumpkin Patch Promise

“Ring toss? Looks like a piece of cake.”

“Oh Mr. Confident, are you? You’re not even a tiny bit nervous?” Prue teased.

“Not remotely.”

He tossed his first ring. It missed the bottle neck by an inch.

“So much for that,” Prue said, pursing her lips to stop herself from laughing.

“My hand slipped.”

His second ring missed by almost exactly the same distance.

“Another hand problem?” Prue asked, and this time she couldn’t help laughing.

“I'm beginning to suspect sabotage.”

His third landed on the ground.

Prue took the rings from him. “Let me show you how it's done.”

She studied the distance, adjusted her stance and sent the first ring sailing toward the bottles. It bounced off the crate.

Sam grinned. “Excellent demonstration.”

“I'm warming up.”

Her second ring dropped neatly over the neck of a dark green bottle.

The volunteer behind the counter cheered and handed her a small carved wooden pumpkin attached to a braided twine loop. “For your Christmas tree. Well done!”

Prue laughed, accepting the prize. “Thank you.”

She tucked it into her coat pocket.

“I’m impressed. Although I’m still not convinced there was no sabotage involved,” Sam said.

They spent the next hour making their way between stalls, playing games and just enjoying each other’s company. By the time Sam's third choice came around, the musicians at the timber pavilion had begun taking requests.

“Music?” Prue asked.

“Music.”

He led her to the pavilion, where an acoustic guitar duo was playing for the gathering crowd. They found two wooden ladder-back chairs near the outer edge of the arbor, close enough to hear the music clearly without being in the middle of the crowd. As the notes drifted across the festival grounds, Prue settled back in her chair.

“This is nice,” she said. “Thank you for today.”

“Thank you. Although remind me not to challenge you to any competition that involves hand-eye coordination,” Sam said with a smile.

Prue laughed. “You weren’t so bad.”

As dusk settled deeper over the farm, the festival crowd reached its peak volume. Hundreds of local residents and fall visitors filled the farm, their cheerful voices blending with fiddle music, laughter, and the clinking of cider mugs. The sudden surge of movement and sound created a dense wall of sensory activity around the wooden pavilion.

Sam moved closer to Prue. He looked at her with calm, attentive eyes.

“Is the noise getting too much?” he asked. “We could head to the cider barn if you need a break. Or we could move to the outer edge of the lawn where it’s not so loud. It’s up to you.”

Prue took a slow, deep breath. It may be loud and crowded, but she was happy. She was surrounded by respectful neighbors, beside a beautiful man who made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time. She looked up at Sam, experiencing a deep, unforced wave of affection and safety wash over her. She smiled softly.