Page 58 of A Fall to Remember

“We’ll save those for the captions. Don’t sweat it,” Jim had assured her.

She was such a good sport. And so easy to be around. Everything with Miranda felt like he was hanging out with his best friend.

He had a lot of material to work with by the end of the contest. Although none of it was anything that was likely to go viral. That was fine by him. Last night’s post was already a hit and was still garnering plenty of engagement. He figured that the behemoth size of the pumpkins would be enough to get eyeballs on Miranda’s content. As he’d explained to Shelby multiple times, not every post needed to go viral. There was something to be said for a slow build and creating lasting relationships. Miranda could do that in her sleep. He had no worries on that front. Whether or not Shelby would agree remained to be seen.

They wandered over to the food trucks. “You have to try the pumpkin ice cream,” Miranda said, pointing out a pale green cart with a matching awning with a giant fake ice cream cone jutting out of the top. “I dream about this ice cream all year long. They serve it in a cinnamon waffle cone.”

“Cinnamon waffle cone? Yes, please.” Jim ordered a cone for himself and Miranda. She hadn’t oversold the ice cream. It was rich and creamy with a strong pumpkin flavor, and the crispy cinnamon waffle cone was the perfect vessel for the fall treat.

They were about to pack it in when an idea struck. “What if we get a few last shots of you next to the winning pumpkin?” Jim suggested, pointing to the line of people waiting to pose with the three-thousand-pound gourd. “That might be fun for perspective—to show how huge these things really are.”

“Sure.” Miranda looped her arm through his as they headed to join the line, licking her cone, which she held with her other hand.

The winning farmer was like a rock star. People surrounded him like a pumpkin paparazzi. Jim captured it all. These were the kinds of clips he loved to capture. Seeing someone’s five minutes of fame. The Half Moon Bay Fall Harvest Fest was the only place in the world where pumpkins were celebrities and the real stars of the show.

Once it was Miranda’s turn to pose with the pumpkin and its now famous grower, Jim recorded it on his phone and his Nikon. “That’s great. I think we’ve got what we need,” he said, switching to portrait mode on the video. “Let’s get you walking past all the entries. No need to say anything. Just enjoy admiring the pumpkins on our way out. I’ll use this for B-roll and maybe have you do a voiceover later. Make sure to lick the ice cream like you’re enjoying it a few times, too.”

“No problem,” Miranda said, already wandering toward the next pumpkin, this one with a sliver ribbon attached to its stem.

Jim was so focused on her, the way she moved with the grace of a dancer and how green her eyes were on the screen, that he barely registered what was happening behind her. Miranda was equally unaware as she licked a pumpkin ice cream and walked straight through a marriage proposal.

Jim couldn’t stop her—it was too late.

The silver-ribbon-winning farmer had taken a knee and was about to propose to a woman, whom Jim assumed must be his girlfriend. But Miranda, intent on Jim’s direction, walked directly between them, blocking the man on his knee and the friend hiding next to him to capture the engagement. “Hey, everyone, Miranda Brown here in my lovely town of Half Moon Bay, giving you pumpkin to talk about.” She swept her hand toward the giant pumpkin looming in the background and shot the camera a playful wink.

She’d done it again.

Completely inadvertently.

Never mind what he’d said about a slow build and consistent engagement. This was meme material. He had to use this.

45

MIRANDA

Spending the afternoon at the pumpkin weigh-off with Jim had been a delight. Miranda had almost forgotten about Pete, but after she and Jim enjoyed a leisurely late lunch, he had taken off to head back to the hotel to get some work done before the bonfire.

“Sorry to have to rush out,” he’d said when he walked her back to the Green Grocer. “Alas, duty calls. I promised Shelby I would take care of today’s posts. I have some brilliant footage from today that I know you’re going to love. I need to edit the clips together, and I want it to be a fun surprise for you. You’re going to get such a good chuckle at our pumpkin puns and a happy accident. Shelby will probably have my neck, but it will be worth it. We’re really giving them ‘pumpkin’ to talk about.” His mouth twitched with a roguish smile. “Should we plan to meet here later? I can pick you up for the bonfire. Do we need to drive?”

“No, it’s on the beach. We can walk from here,” Miranda said, gesturing in that direction.

“It’s a date then. I’ll be here a little before six, if that works?”

The words “a date” sent happy goosebumps up Miranda’s arms. “Perfect. See you then.” She didn’t want to take a break either. They had such little time left. Jim and Shelby were flying back to Seattle tomorrow. The weekend was vanishing before her eyes. On one hand, it felt like Jim had been here for days. They’d gotten so close, so quickly. And yet on the other, it felt like no time at all.

She was going to be sad to see them—him—go.

No, “sad” wasn’t strong enough.

Heartbroken?

That sounded dramatic, but it was true.

She didn’t want him to leave. Could she work up the courage to tell him that? How do you say to a man you’ve only known for a few days that you’ve fallen hard for him? And how would it work anyway?

Jim had a life and a career in Seattle, which was eight hundred and thirty-five miles away. A twelve-and-a-half-hour drive or a two-hour flight. She’d looked it up earlier this morning. Just in case.

In case of what, Miranda?