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I glance toward the sidewalk.

Sheriff Daniels stands beside his cruiser, holding a paper cup of coffee.

“Thanks.”

“Funeral?”

“Wedding.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Yours?”

“Working on it.”

He laughs.

“Well, good luck.”

“Don’t need luck.”

“Right.”

He takes a sip of coffee.

“Just so you know, the whole town’s been talking about you two.”

“Fantastic.”

“Seventy-five thousand dollars at the Halloween auction? That’s a hell of a first date.”

“Wasn’t a first date.”

“What was it?”

I glance toward the festival.

“A second chance.”

Daniels studies me for a moment.

Then he smiles.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Probably.”

I start the bike before he can say anything else.

The Devil’s Peak Harvest Festival is exactly the kind of event I usually avoid.

Too many people.

Too much noise.

Too many children running around with sticky hands and absolutely no respect for personal space.

Orange and gold banners stretch across Main Street. Vendors sell everything from homemade candles to caramel apples, and somebody’s set up a hay maze in the town square.