7

Sienna

A lengthy line snaked out the front door of my bakery, waiting for my return from the pumpkin patch. I was unfazed by the rush, quickly tending to each customer with practiced ease. I handed out countless pastries and boxes of made-to-order treats, ensuring that each person left content.

Forrest impressed me by quietly sitting at a small table in the corner of my bakery, biding his time until every order was completed. He didn't have other pressing matters, but I was still grateful for his patience.

"Sorry about that," I told him when I finally made my way over to him .

"Are you apologizing for having a booming business?" he laughed. "I'm going to need to get some tips from you. How do you handle this place on your own?"

"Practice," I laughed, "and my customers aren't in a rush. It makes the whole experience that much more pleasant."

"No one in this town is in a rush," he said. "Even the wildlife takes their sweet time crossing the road."

He was not exaggerating. I had helped animals safely cross the roads in Cider Falls countless times. I'd assisted squirrels too distracted by acorns to notice the traffic, and I'd guided turtles as they made their way to a nearby pond. In Cider Falls, there was always time to ensure the well-being of both our furry and shelled neighbors.

"The slow pace of this town is a luxury we cherish," I told him as I cleaned the counter. "It's one of the reasons we fear outsiders. We don't want anyone to change the way we do things."

"That's understandable," he said. "I promise, I'm not trying to change a thing."

"I'll hold you to that promise," I told him.

"Should I carve your pumpkins now?" he asked .

Why was he so willing to help me?

I raced to decipher his intentions, but there was no time. My sisters were counting on me to gather information. Yet I had barely scratched the surface of the mysterious man before me.

"I'm closing in two hours, why don't you come back then?" I asked. "That way, we can carve the pumpkins together."

Forrest's eyebrows shot up at my suggestion. "I need to head to the market anyway," he said as he rose from his chair. "I'll be back in two hours, pumpkins in hand."

"Thank you, Forrest."

∞∞∞

Forrest approached the door of my bakery, his strong, capable arms flexing under the weight of the pumpkins. His lips curved into a mischievous smirk as I rushed to open the door for him.

"Right on time," I said.

"I didn't want you to think I stole your pumpkins and left town. "

"Do you want to leave town?"

"Not particularly. Why?" His eyebrows shot up as he studied my face. "Do you think I should leave?"

"No," I said. And I meant it. Despite all logic and reason, I wanted Forrest to stay in Cider Falls even if it wasn't in everyone's best interest.

As he walked past me, I could feel the heat radiating from his body, as if being brushed by a flickering flame. At that moment, every fiber of my being became charged with electricity, as if every nerve was rapidly transmitting messages to my brain. It felt like a sudden awakening, igniting something deep within me that I hadn't realized was there.

"Ready to get started?" Forrest asked, carefully positioning the pumpkins at the center of the array of tools I had set up.

"Sure!"

He pulled out my chair and gestured for me to take a seat. Forrest's chivalrous behavior did not go unnoticed, and I thanked him with a nod.

"What designs did you have in mind?" he asked. He turned the orange orb, trying to find the perfectly flat face .

"You have full creative control over your pumpkin," I said. "I don't need a specific design. Just something festive to place out front."

"What do people typically carve?" he asked. He appeared rather clueless about the whole procedure, and I found it quite perplexing.

"Spooky faces are popular," I said. "Some carve animals, like owls or bats. Really, it's up to you."

"So, essentially, I can carve anything?" His eyes widened, the possibilities running through his mind.

I nodded. "As long as it's Halloween-themed!"

"I think a spooky face is all I'll be able to manage," he said, "if that's alright with you."

"Spooky faces are perfect for front door decor!" I said, encouraging him.

With determination etched into his features, Forrest rolled up the sleeves of his worn flannel shirt, exposing his forearms. His thick veins traced their way along defined muscles, and my breath hitched at the sight. Embarrassed by my sudden fascination, I quickly averted my gaze from him.

Turning to the pumpkin in front of me, I began scooping out its guts, trying my best to focus on the task rather than Forrest's forearms. I dug deeper into the pumpkin, its stringy innards clinging to my skin, leaving a slimy residue on my fingers.

"Well, this feels interesting," Forrest's nose scrunched up, but his grin remained wide as he plunged his arm deep into the pumpkin.

"It's so gooey, right?" The orange flesh and seeds clung to his fingers, creating a sticky mess, but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest. "Thank you for helping me, Forrest."

"I feel like I should be thanking you at this point," he said. He cocked his head to the side, his dark hair hanging close to his eyes. "This is fun."

"I'm glad you think so."

The way he looked at me told me everything I needed to know. I was in over my head. Every step forward felt like a gamble, a risk that could either lead me to safety or plunge me deeper into unknown depths. But there was something about Forrest that drew me in, an enigmatic pull that I couldn't resist.

We continued our work in silence, scraping out every last bit of our pumpkins until the interior walls were smooth and ready to be carved into spooky masterpieces. With a firm grip on my carving knife, I sliced through the rough exterior of the pumpkin. As the flesh separated and fell away, I meticulously carved out a haunting pattern, bringing to life a sinister face that seemed to stare back at me with its menacing grin.

"Mine looks sad," Forrest said, his lips suddenly turned down in a frown that mirrored the pumpkin's expression.

"Maybe he ran out of Halloween treats," I told him. "I'd be sad too."

"You're good at this," he said, pointing to my design. "You should have just carved both. Mine only looks scary because it's so bad."

"No, it's not!" His pumpkin had character, but his design was entirely lopsided. The direction of the eyebrows and mouth made the face look far more silly than sinister, but I adored it. "You did a fantastic job!"

"You're just saying that," he laughed, "which is sweet of you."

Forrest's gentle touch traced the curve of my ear as he delicately tucked a loose strand of my hair behind it. Beneath the cozy embrace of my thick sweater, tiny goosebumps appeared on my skin.

"Well, thanks so much for your help tonight!" I jumped to my feet and began to clean up our mess .

"Let me—"

"Oh! You don't need to help me," I told him. "I've got it."

"Just because I don't need to help you doesn't mean I don't want to," he said. "Let me, Sienna." With a determined look in his eye, he began gathering up the slimy innards of the pumpkin and pushing them into a garbage bag.

"Thank you."

"You can do your other usual closing duties if you want. I've got this," he promised. He was helpful, and he wasn't under our control. From a young age, I had been taught that trusting men was not an option. I wasn't just going to change my mind overnight.

But had Forrest given me any reason not to trust him?

With a sense of urgency, I completed my closing duties, my heart pounding as Forrest's presence lingered in my bakery. In some ways, he made me feel at ease. Yet I couldn't shake the nervousness that crept up on me whenever he was around. As I wiped down the counters and turned off the ovens, I stole glances at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Should I put the pumpkins outside?" Forrest asked. Our jack-o'-lanterns, with their toothy grins, were carefully cradled in his muscular arms. Despite their impressive size, the pumpkins seemed almost insignificant compared to him.

"That would be great," I said. I watched as he delicately placed them on my stoop. He took his time perfecting their angles and spacing, and I was grateful for his attention to detail.

Maybe, just maybe, having Forrest in Cider Falls wasn't such a terrible thing after all.