Page 52 of Robbin’ the Rich

She drew the bow smoothly.

Released.

The arrow struck near the center.

She looked over her shoulder and I grinned at her. She was amazing.

The second arrow landed even closer.

Then the third.

"Okay," I said slowly. "That's actually hot."

Robin lowered the bow.

"I know."

The smile she gave me then was softer than the ones she'd worn all evening. For a second, neither of us spoke.

The noise from inside the bar faded into the background while the space between us seemed to shrink naturally. Robin stepped closer. I met her halfway. The kiss started easy. Slow, nothing like the frantic chemistry that had existed between us on Halloween. This felt different because now I knew her. At least a little, I knew she organized spreadsheets for fun, hated churches, and loved her derby team. I knew she smiled at her phone when she thought nobody was looking. I knew she pretended to be tougher than she actually was. And every new thing I learned only made me want more.

My hand settled at her waist while she rose slightly onto her toes.

For a moment the rest of the world disappeared. Then Belle's voice exploded across the deck. "There they are!"

Robin groaned against my mouth. The spell shattered as half the Reaper team spilled outside.

"Don't start," Robin warned.

"We haven't said anything," Belle replied.

"Your face says everything."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, drinks, and increasingly ridiculous conversations. By the time people started gathering coats and settling tabs, it was already later than I should've been out on a school night. Robin walked with me toward my car while the others lingered near the entrance saying their goodbyes.

"You turning into a pumpkin?" she asked.

"I teach middle school. If I don't get enough sleep, somebody is going to try to microwave a pencil tomorrow."

"That feels oddly specific."

"It happened once."

Robin laughed and shoved her hands into her leather jacket pockets. The parking lot lights reflected in her dark eyes as she looked up at me. And once again, I found myself wishing I didn't have to leave yet.

Instead, I leaned down and kissed her one last time. "I'll text you tomorrow."

"You better."

I climbed into my car and headed home. The entire drive, I dreamed about this weekend. I couldn’t wait for pumpkin patches and cider and whatever sarcastic commentary Robin would inevitably provide.

11

ROBIN

Ispent entirely too much time getting ready for a pumpkin patch. Which was ridiculous, a pumpkin patch wasn't a date that required preparation. It’s barely a date at all. It wasn't a fancy dinner, or a wedding, or one of those places where reservations came with a dress code and tiny portions.

People wore flannel to pumpkin patches. Half the attraction was wandering around outside while pretending not to spend thirty dollars on apple cider and getting lost in a corn maze.