Page 103 of Falling for Mr. October

Theo’s full-on laughing now, but he nods. “Yeah, fine. You’re all right, Giovanni. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

BIANCA

I stare at my brother and Giovanni in amazement—Theo, because he usually avoids social activities like the plague, and Giovanni because he’s worked miracles today, and he’s done it like it’s easy.

He’s been here for less than a month, but I’m already used to having him around. I wake up looking forward to seeing his face every morning. To laughing with him. To finding the nonnas with their heads bent together as they plot world domination or, more likely, my marriage to Giovanni. They probably think it’s a done deal after he danced me around the kitchen earlier.

I shouldn’t be letting myself get used to his presence, and yet here I go, starting to rely on him. It doesn’t help that he’s taken up the cause of The Rotten Apple too.

Giovanni turns to me with a slow grin. “Let’s bring our guy up to the judging table, what do you say? Do the honors with me?”

He obviously knows I want to see the look on Rhett’s face when he sees the scarecrow and realizes we made a facsimile of him for the crows to shit on.

“Of course,” I say, my voice hoarse and a bit unfamiliar. I take one side, and he takes the other, and we carry our straw child up front, setting it down directly in front of Rhett.

“We’re all done,” Giovanni announces. “As you can see, we designed our scarecrow to honor the fearless leader of Apple Ridge. We’ll be putting it up to protect the last of the farm’s apples. Mr. Mayor, you’ll be the hero of our Pink Ladies.”

Rhett’s jaw hardens, but I can see the battle waging on his face—if he acts like he’s tickled by this “honor,” he can write it off as a sign of respect. If he shows he’s annoyed by it, he’ll be a poor sport.

He forces a smile. “How…special. We’ll take it from here.”

“Can we have a photo of you two side by side?” Giovanni asks.

“Oh, that would be great,” adds Christopher the Mustache, who’s really growing on me. “It would add some local flavor to the piece.”

“Of course,” Rhett says with unconvincing grace.

He poses next to the straw figure, whose hair and outfit is nearly identical to his, and Giovanni and Christopher both take photos.

“Why don’t you give the straw man a kiss?” urges one of the judges, Rosie, who owns and operates a cidery in town with her four sons. She ran for mayor against Rhett, and everyone thinks she still holds a grudge. She smiles at him, her dimples popping out. “We all know you love yourself best of all, honey.”

Yup, definite grudge. I mentally high-five Rosie.

Rhett ignores her and returns to his seat at the table as soon as Christopher lowers his camera. Rhett’s still smiling, but it’s the smile of someone who intends malice.

Maybe we shouldn’t have provoked him like this. Rhett isn’t going to let this go. Then again…

He was never going to let anything go.

He’s not the kind of man who gets backed into a corner without biting. It doesn’t matter that Giovanni has a mutually beneficial arrangement with him. He’s going to find a way to retaliate.

But I haven’t forgotten what Giovanni said to me earlier: I’m furious that he spoke that way to you, and I have no intention of letting it go.

Maybe we’re not the ones who have to be worried.

Maybe he should be worried.

After we leave the scarecrow tent, Theo breaks off to check on the nonnas, telling us he’ll meet us at the top of the hill for the bonfire and s’mores competition, scheduled for just before sundown.

“What do you want to do?” Giovanni asks, taking my hand and swinging it, his thumb rubbing the center of my palm.

A sudden need wells inside of me. I want him to touch me, to hold me, to make me feel. But I’m scared of the way my emotions seem to have boarded a roller coaster over the last week.

I clear my throat, trying to stuff all of it down. “We should see if there are any apples left in the orchard.”

The one in the park. Small and free and accessible to everyone. I grew up wandering around this park, picking up fallen apples and horrifying my mother by showing her the worms wriggling inside.