Page 52 of Pumpkin Spice Promises
I slowly lowered my hand, muffin completely forgotten now. Clover’s expression softened.
“They want to talk about bringing it back to Marigold Ranch.”
“No.” Every trace of amusement disappeared. This time nobody teased me.
Beau straightened beside the truck. “Carson—”
“No.”
The word came sharper than I intended. I looked toward Pops’s Chevy. For one terrible second, I could see strings of orange lights reflected across its old black paint.
Hay wagons.
Pumpkins.
Blueberry saddled beside the barn.
Pops laughing somewhere behind me.
The memory struck so hard I nearly lost my breath.
“We don’t host the Harvest Festival anymore.”
Clover’s voice became careful, soft. “I know.”
“Then they can find somewhere else.”
“Your Pops loved that festival.” Walter looked toward me, his expression unreadable.
I swallowed. “I know.”
“And the ranch could use—”
“Dad enough.” Beau’s warning stopped him. Walter’s jaw tightened as he glanced at his son, but he nodded. I appreciated Beau for that more than I wanted to.
Clover closed the bakery box with a sigh. “You don’t have to agree to anything,” she said. “Just come tonight.”
“I have work.”
“The meeting is at seven.”
“I have work after seven.”
“You always have work?”
“Yes, a rancher never sleeps.”
The answer came easily.
Because it was true.
Clover studied me. Then, surprisingly, she didn’t push.
“Okay.”
I looked at her suspiciously. “Okay?”
“Okay.”
