Whiskey Sharp: Torn. Lauren Dane

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      It was early enough on a weekday that the patch wasn’t crowded at all, which didn’t stop a few people from nearly falling over themselves as they stared at Beau. It wasn’t even that they recognized him—at least not at first—but purely the fact that he was so beautiful.

      Because he tried to ignore it, she did, as well. And it wasn’t like she didn’t totally understand everyone who gawked at him. She felt like gawking at him too.

      “Is that weird for you?” Cora asked him as she began to think about just exactly what she wanted her porch to look like.

      “Is what weird?”

      “Being so handsome you literally make people halt in their tracks to stare at you.”

      His surprised laughter rang out and made her smile in response.

      Seeing the pumpkins for herself, she began to build a theme. She headed toward a group of tall, narrow ones. “Look at these bumps all over. I love that. Then I need squat ones. So they can group together.”

      He bumped her aside with a hip and loaded the ones she pointed out onto the wagon. “Getting recognized is nice usually. People are respectful. But sometimes it’s invasive, offensive, scary even.”

      “Oh, you mean like stalkers? Or people who don’t like the, uh, group you grew up in?” From everything she understood it was a cult. But it wasn’t relevant what she thought on that point. Not right then.

      “Both.” He shrugged. “The people who were either part of my former church or who were wronged or hate groups like Road to Glory pop up less than they used to. New outrages I guess. New self-appointed prophets all too eager to drain people dry and ruin lives.”

      “I’m sorry,” she said simply.

      “I got away. Mostly. As far as being a celebrity and getting recognized, that’s complicated. It’s nice that people care. That’s why they watch my shows and buy my books. I like that. But some people have messed-up filters. Or they forget I’m a real person.” He turned to face her. “And sometimes it encroaches on my personal time. I want to be all about you right now, so I would be aggravated. Which is why I generally avoid eye contact if I get that buzz that they might think of intruding.”

      Damn. “You make my stomach all floaty.”

      He smirked. “Is that good?”

      Cora nodded.

      “All right then. What’s next?” He indicated the area all around them.

      Cora considered following up but he clearly wanted to change the subject so she let him. She went to her toes, kissed him quickly and pointed. “Let’s head that way. I see some fat ones. I need fat ones.” Cora danced away, taking in deep gulps of the fresh air, happy with her life and the sight of one pumpkin with super deep grooves on it that she decided she had to have.

      Each time she would pause to really examine a pumpkin, and then later the gourds, he patiently waited for her to do whatever she pleased. He never glanced at his phone. Never looked bored. In fact, he began to point out his own pumpkins, even grabbing a few he said he wanted to put in the windows of the apartment he was staying at.

      He never complained about the weather, even after a light rain began to fall, or how heavy the wagon got once it was laden down with pumpkins. He didn’t bat an eye at how many she ended up buying and unloaded them all at her side, making her smile the whole time.

      “So, what did you think of going to the pumpkin patch?” she asked as they headed back toward Seattle. She held a big bag of kettle corn out for him to grab a handful.

      “I liked it. Food, a pretty girl and a huge bag of fresh vegetables to go with a thousand pumpkins make for a pretty enjoyable outing. Thanks for bringing me along.”

      “Probably less than a thousand. I’m all about new experiences,” she teased, undeniably pleased that he’d apparently enjoyed their day. “Next up is decoration. I pulled the Halloween boxes out of my crawl space and I’ve got a general idea and some notes.”

      “Notes? Crawl space? I feel like such a newbie to the Halloween decoration game.”

      “Remember I just told you about how I was all about new experiences? Anyway, you’ll be there making me food, which is like, way more important than stringing lights and helping me create the super spider lair.”

      “Super spider lair, huh? Okay, I’m game. I’ll make tacos while you get to super lair creating.”

      “Tacos? This day keeps getting better.”

      They listened to music all the way back up north to her place, where he then helped her carry all those pumpkins to her porch.

      “I’m on call for you if you need anything heavy moved or whatever. Just yell, okay?” he told her.

      “Thanks,” she said before he gave her a kiss and allowed her to watch him walk back into her house looking all hot and tasty.

      Once he’d gone, she began to set her porch to dark, spooky fun with spiders tucked all around. Some with glowing red eyes. A few with realistic-looking bristles on all eight legs. And at the end, she installed the ones on motion-detected triggers that would have them dropping from the ceiling or jumping across a trick-or-treater’s path.

      After that she strung all the lights and draped the fake spiderweb, giggling to herself as she thought about all the scary fun she was creating.

      All while she peeked through her front window and watched him in her kitchen. He moved like magic. All to his own rhythm. He cooked like he was totally, utterly sure of himself.

       Sexy as fuck.

      And he wanted to spend time with her.

      If he’d been smooth about it, or calculated, she could have just let it be a fun fling. But he wanted to go to a gallery event. Not to buy art. Not to meet artists. He didn’t need her for that. No, it was about her.

      No one could have ever described to her just what it would feel like to have someone focus on her like that. Put all their attention, attraction and ability into her. It was by turns flattering, confusing and thrilling.

      He looked up from where he’d been sautéing something at the stove and met her gaze. A startled smile broke over his mouth and holy shit he was just stupid gorgeous.

      All points south of her eyes stood at attention.

      She smirked at him, letting him see that she was done with the spider lair and was coming inside.

      “Damn, you make me sassy,” she said once she’d put away her tools and the boxes were back in the crawl space.

      He leaned back, resting his butt on the counter behind him, crossing those fine legs as he looked her up and down. “That so? And how do I make you sassy? Seems to me, you were sassy when I got here.”

      Laughing, she swaggered over, pausing just a foot away. “That’s a fair point. You make me sassier. The way you look at me sometimes just revs me up. Makes me feel all sexy and goddess-like and stuff.”

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