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“So you baked everything?” Mara laughed.

“Not everything.” He opened the box. Inside was a small apple pie with a golden lattice top.

Mara looked up at him. “You made this for us?”

“I was already baking.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Yes,” he admitted. “I made it for us.”

Why did that matter so much? It was a pie. Just a pie. But to Mara, in that moment, it meant a great deal. She was the one who booked the tables and remembered the birthdays and ordered the cakes. That was her job, at work and at home. Nobody had gone to this much trouble over what she might like in years. “I like apple pie.”

“Good.”

The relief on his face made her smile. “Were you nervous?”

“I had a backup plan.”

“What was the backup plan?”

“Eat it all myself.”

Gabe cut the pie and handed her a slice. The apples were soft without having gone to mush, the pastry crisp enough to break under the side of her fork. She ate a second bite before saying anything, and Gabe waited.

“You can relax. It’s…scrumptious.”

“That good?”

“Oh, yeah.” She took another bite.

He smiled and finally cut a slice for himself. “I agree.” He leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him.

“Scrumptious,” they chorused, and then giggled like a couple of kids.

By the time the pie was finished, the afternoon had gotten away from them. After packing everything away, they started back along the trail.

At the fallen tree, Gabe stepped over first and put his hand out again. This time Mara took it without pointing out that she could manage. For a second after both her feet were safely on the ground, neither of them let go. His thumb moved lightly across her knuckles, and her breath caught. Then he released her and walked on.

Near the parking area, a board stood beside the trail. Mara slowed when she saw the flyer pinned near the middle. “Harvest Lights Trail.”

“Tomorrow night,” Gabe said. “They line the trail with lanterns after dark, and there’s cider made from the local orchard. It’s quite an experience. You’ll enjoy it.”

“I saw it online. It was on my list. Do you go?” Was she actually asking him out? She wasn’t sure.

“Most years,” he said. “If you want company, I’d be happy to go with you.”

“You’re not tired of this tourist yet?” she asked lightly.

“Never.” He caught her gaze and held it.

“Okay.” Her voice wobbled.

“You don’t have to decide now,” he said. “There’s no pressure.”

Was he backing out? Or giving her a chance to? She’d been in a relationship with Scott so long she had forgotten how to read the signs. Eight years of knowing what a look meant, or thinking she did. Now Gabe was being careful with her, and she couldn’t tell if careful meant I’m not sure or I don’t want to rush you. And which one did she want it to mean?

“Why don’t we swap numbers?” Mara took out her phone. “Just in case something comes up.”