Page 63 of Falling for Mr. October

Still, and I’m ashamed of this, I take out my toy again, and let myself pretend he’s touching me in the dark of my room, with nothing but moonlight filtering in through the window.

When I report to work at The Rotten Apple the next day, I discover an enormous orange banner has been slung across the front desk.

Mrs. October works here.

Smiling jack-o’-lanterns bracket the words.

It takes me approximately five seconds to tear the banner down, and another five seconds to learn from my co-workers that Rhett, the bastard, came by yesterday and encouraged the residents to make it and hang it up. He won’t miss a single opportunity to torment me.

Luanne rolls up in her chair as I’m stuffing the banner into the trash can underneath the coffee carafes in the rec room.

“You’ve been holding out on us,” she says before taking another bite of the donut she’s carrying. She must have bartered for it, given she’s on a strict, sugar-limited diet, and the cafeteria doesn’t serve them.

I give the banner another shove. “You heard about Giovanni?”

She points to the tail end of the orange polyester as it disappears into the bin. “I made that banner.”

I laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

She finishes the donut, her expression full of who me? innocence.

“And where’d you get that donut?”

“I got a box of them as a prize for making the banner.”

“So you sold me out to Satan? I’m going to have to confiscate the rest, Lu. You’re not supposed to be eating this much sugar. Emily would have my head.”

She grins back at me. “Too late. I had a few and gave the rest to Stuart.”

Stuart is the most popular bachelor in The Rotten Apple. Leave it to Luanne to edge out the competition with sugar.

She clucks her tongue and rolls her chair closer to me. “Now, are you going to tell me what in tarnation happened, or do I have to take out your toes? One minute you were refusing to kiss that beautiful boy, and the next you’re dating him? Not that I blame you.”

She’s obviously not going to back down, and telling Luanne is as good as telling everyone, so there’s no point in saying no.

Sighing, I say, “I have to start my rounds, but I might as well start with you.”

“That’s a relief,” Luanne says. “I was going to roll around after you all day until you told me everything.”

Of course she was.

Five minutes later, we’re closed up in her room. I’ve told her the whole story, more or less, while searching the room for any donuts she might have tucked away.

“Why does he care so much about saving your farm?” she asks as I remove a sugary donut from her dresser drawer with a scrunched nose. I set it on top of the battered piece of furniture and turn toward her.

“For Miles. They’re still close.”

She gives a knowing nod. “Yes, maybe he cares about Miles.”

“He definitely cares about Miles,” I say tersely. “We all do.”

“Of course, but that’s not the whole story. That boy wants to get into your pants.”

I put a hand on my hip and stare her down. “Luanne, you’ve been reading too many of those books with Emily.”

She wags a finger at me. “I was married over forty years, but that doesn’t mean my husband was the only man who ever seduced me. We all saw that man playing with your hair on that live video like he thought it might turn into gold. He wants you, and you’d be a fool not to enjoy him. You’re no fool.”

“You watched that?”