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Nothing feels sinister or wrong. It’s just Halloween.

Exactly what I wanted.

By ten, we’re sitting at one of the long wooden tables near the main bonfire with plates piled high from the Harvest Table.

Pulled pork. Roasted potatoes. Cornbread. Mac and cheese. Apples cooked in something involving enough butter to kill a horse.

“This is disgusting.” Ali says around a mouthful.

“You’ve eaten half of it.”

“Disgustingly good.” Ali points her fork at my plate. “You gonna eat that cornbread?”

“Yes.”

“You hesitated.”

“I was breathing.”

“That’s hesitation.”

I side-eye her and slide it farther from her reach.

Around us, hundreds of people eat, drink and laugh while a band plays from a stage near the barn. Someone has started dancing between the tables. A woman dressed as a sexy Beetlejuice walks past carrying three beers. Two men dressed as Ghostface are taking selfies with a grandma dressed like Chucky.

I fucking love humanity sometimes.

“I’m moving here,” I announce.

“To a Halloween farm?” Ali asks.

“Yes.”

“You hate mornings.” Mariah adds.

“I’ll work nights.”

“You killed a cactus.” Ali reminds me.

“Corn is more resilient.”

Mariah points behind me. “Speaking of corn.”

I turn and stop chewing.

A man stands at the edge of the bonfire light, talking to someone older beside him. He isn’t wearing a costume. At least, I don’t think he is. Just dark jeans, boots, and a black long-sleeved shirt pushed up over his forearms.

A cardboard tray of drinks balances easily in one hand while he listens to whatever the other man is saying.

Nothing unusual.

Except he’s tall, broad shoulders with dark hair and when the firelight catches the side of his face…

Jesus.

“Which one?” Ali asks.

I don’t answer because the man looks over directly at me. Not in that awkward way we accidentally make eye contact.