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“With what?” Gabe asked as he picked up a marker.

“Usually pie. My sister figured that out first.”

Gabe smiled as Mara began drawing lightly on the pumpkin. “So she won?”

“One of the categories.”

“There were categories.”

“Scariest. Funniest. Most original.” She shrugged. “It evolved over the years as we got older and the competition got fiercer. So my dad came up with the categories so we all won.”

“I like that.” Gabe pressed his marker to the orange skin and began to draw. “And in that tradition, we should have our own categories.”

“You’re turning this into a competition?” she asked.

“Are you scared?” he teased.

“I don’t want to invoke the apple bobbing monster when you lose,” she said, waving her marker at him.

“Hey, who says I’m going to lose? I’ve seen your cinnamon bears, remember?” he replied.

“Oh, if you’re going there, then it’s on!” She hugged her massive pumpkin in her arms as she half-turned it away from him and started drawing.

This was supposed to be a romantic evening, his bear complained.

But Gabe was too busy marking out his pumpkin face to reply.

Ten minutes later, Mara leaned across to look. “You’ve made one eye much higher than the other.”

“I know.”

“And I think your mouth is upside down.”

“It’s a bear.”

“That doesn’t explain either of those things.”

Gabe laughed and tried to widen one of the cuts. The knife caught. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Hold on. Let me show you.” Mara moved around the table and laid her hand over his. “Not straight down. Angle it slightly, or you’ll take that whole section out.”

Her fingers closed around his as she guided the blade. For a second Gabe forgot entirely what they were doing. Mara was close enough that her shoulder rested against his arm. A loose strand of hair had fallen across her cheek, and when she looked up, she caught him watching her. Neither of them moved immediately.

“You’re supposed to be looking at the pumpkin,” she said, but her voice had gone soft.

“I was.”

“No, you weren’t.”

Gabe smiled. “No. I wasn’t.”

Her hand was still over his. He turned his slightly beneath hers, and their fingers slipped together.

Mara looked down at their joined hands, then back at him. Gabe bent and kissed her.

It began softly, almost lazily, the way everything about the evening seemed to have slowed since the last visitors left. Mara moved closer, her free hand settling against his chest. Afterward, she stayed there for a moment, then looked at the pumpkin between them. “I think we may have made it worse.”

Gabe looked down. A large section of the bear’s face was now hanging by a thin strip of pumpkin. Mara covered her mouth, but the laugh escaped anyway.