by Faye Larson
Preston frowned slightly. The time involved getting there didn’t bother him. The roads leading out to Half Moon Bay were gorgeous, winding through redwoods and along the coastline. The more he thought about it, the more he looked forward to the trip. He’d be getting out, doing something new and Halloween-y, with Keith. That was so cool. The fact that it’d take hours to do...
It seemed like fun.
Especially since there was more to do at the place than just look at pumpkins.
“I heard that they have a corn maze,” Preston said. “If we went in, we’d probably end up taking more than an hour and a half to get back.”
“They have a corn maze?” Mike scrolled back to the top of the page and then clicked on a link.
Preston’s first thought of the next photo that appeared was that it a Celtic thing, something that ancient people had made by growing grass in certain patterns.
Then Mike scrolled down and Preston realized the top photo was an aerial image of the corn maze. The ones beneath it zoomed in, allowing them to take a laptop tour of the maze.
Whereas Pumpkinzilla was taller and wider than two people, the maze stretched on for what looked like miles. The corn stalks towered overhead, framing a beautiful blue sky. One could get lost there forever and maybe not mind.
Maybe. Preston imaged that, at night, it got cold.
“Wow,” Mike said. “This so... Children of the Corn-y.”
“It looks like He Who Walks Behind the Rows made sure that wheelchairs could get through the paths okay. At least as long as it doesn’t rain.”
“That was very open minded of him.” Mike looked up at Preston. “I envy you. I’d love to go to this place.”
“Why don’t you?” Preston asked.
“I’m tempted. It’s a hell of a drive just to get a couple pumpkins though.”
Yeah it was. Between Keith’s excitement and looking at the photos on the site, Preston had really begun to look forward to going.
“You wouldn’t just be going for pumpkins,” Preston said. “There’s also the corn maze.”
Mike shot him a mock scowl. “You know how in love I am with that thing now.”
“I also heard that the farmers sold fresh vegies,” Preston said.
“Ohhh, supporting local merchants! My liberal heart craves that.”
“And...”
“And?”
Preston smiled. “I have it on good authority that the Great Pumpkin, the Pumpkin King, and the Pumpkin Lord that I just made up blessed these pumpkins themselves,” he said.
Mike snorted. “Well, if two people I know don’t exist and one you just made up all agree, how could I argue?”
How indeed.
If that’s what it took to get Mike to agree with him, though, then Preston wished he’d thought of that years before, back when he worked for Mike. Maybe he could’ve talked Mike into not laying him off.
Then again, if Preston had, then he would be where he was in his writing now. He might not be JK Rowling but he had some fans. Given time, he’d hopefully get more of a following. Maybe one day there’d even be a film or television series on his work.
Maybe it’d even be about the pumpkin creature he’d just made up.
Mike closed his laptop. “Okay. I’ll ask Aiden if he wants to go tomorrow.”
“I hope he does. I know I look forward to going with Keith.”
“When were you thinking of going?” Mike asked.
“When he gets out of his meeting today.”
“So... next week sometime?”
Preston hoped not.
He also worried about it a little. Just a little. Keith had promised him and he rarely made promises like that.
He also rarely made promises like that because he knew things could come up. When one ran their own company, there was always a chance that would happen.
“He got really excited when he talked about the pumpkin patch,” Preston said. “His dads took him and his sister when they were kids and it’s something of a yearly tradition for him. I really think he’s going to do it.”
Mike smiled. “I’m glad. I dated a workaholic once—”
“You are a workaholic.”
“So trust me when I saw we can unintentionally be bastards.”
“Stuff comes up,” Preston said. “I get that. I just hope—”
His phone made the texting chirp.
“Pardon me.” Preston withdrew his cell and swiped it awake.
A server crashed while I was in the meeting, Keith wrote. Will be running late.
“Is it Keith?” Mike asked.
“Yup.”
“How late is he going to be?”
Preston would’ve loved to say he wasn’t going to be. He wasn’t going to lie to his friend, though.
At least not yet.
“I think he’s still figuring it out,” Preston said. To Keith, he texted, Is it bad?
We can’t get them to talk to us.
Um... Is this a “call an exorcist” kind of thing or “crap, I’m going to be here for hours” thing?
Bit of A, bit of B.
Damn.
Okay, Preston wrote. Raincheck?
No. I will get off as soon as I can.
Preston wanted to believe him. Keith would do his best to get out as soon as he could. Preston just wasn’t sure he’d be able to.
“Tell him if he takes too long I’ll kidnap you and take you to the corn maze,” Mike said.
Preston looked up from his phone. Mike had returned to his laptop and was scrolling through the corn maze’s photos.
Man, that thing looked huge.
Mike’s threatening to kidnap me and take me to the pumpkin patch, Preston wrote.
The Evil Former Editor’s likely plotting to sacrifice you to the Great Pumpkin for more subscribers.
Oh man, if only that would work. I mean, he’d never do that.
I believe the first. Okay, I think I got this thing to a good place. I’m on my way.
Preston raised an eyebrow. The expression was likely wasted on his cell but it still escaped him. Really.
Really. I’m grabbing my coat, I’m typing one handed, I—
Oh, this looked good.
Crap, Keith wrote, it didn’t take.
Seriously, we can do this tomorrow, Preston wrote back.
A minute passed.
Two.
Keith’s server, it seemed, was being a poo emoji. Or, since Keith preferred to use that term only for family and good looking husbands, a dork.
“Any luck?” Mike asked.
Preston looked back at Mike.
His former editor had moved on to another page, this one touching on the farm’s history. Mike scrolled down slowly, looking like a kid watching Santa Claus coming down the chimney.
Or, in this case, the Pumpkin Lord, bringing pumpkins to all the good little adults.
“He’s trying to leave but his servers keep grabbing him,” Preston said.
“I hate it when they do that.” Mike looked over at him. “I e-mailed Aiden a link to this place while you and Keith were texting. He sent back an emoji of heart eyes.”
“It’s subtle but I think he wants to go,” Preston said.
“I think so too. I’ll have to ask him later just to be sure.” Mike smiled. “If Keith is able to break away from the servers today, I’ll buy you two a couple of pumpkin lattes for the road.”
Now Preston really hoped Keith would. Nothing tasted better than free drinks.
Or, heck, any drinks. This place had excellent coffee.
Chirp.
I’m now in the elevator, Keith wrote. My assistant is with me and I’m telling her what to do in case of emergencies.
Preston smirked. Text you, I imagine.
Besides texting me.
Call out to you as you walk away.
Don’t tempt her.
Preston suspected he didn’t have to do much to tempt her. Or anyone at Keith’s office. Keith was just that awesome.
>
He could code in his sleep—trust Preston on this, sometimes the other man talked in his sleep—and he could figure out problems that puzzled other developers. Keith was brilliant. Preston couldn’t blame them for not wanting to let him out of their sight.
Though, today, he could blame them a little.
I’m heading for the door now, Keith wrote.
Go, go, go!
I’m nearly at the door. I’m at the door. I have to type one handed now as I go out and I’m...
You’re...
She called me back.
Of course she did. Preston and met her and thought she was brilliant. Put two brilliant people together and they could do miracles. Their servers didn’t stand a chance.
It didn’t mean their servers wouldn’t fight them every step of the way though.
I won’t be upset if we need to reschedule, Preston wrote. It sounds like things are really insane right now.
Things are always insane. It’s okay, though. This’ll just take a minute.
Preston waited a minute.
Two minutes.
Three.
I’m on my way now, Keith wrote.
They would see.
I’m approaching my car even as you read this.
Uh-huh.
I’m in the car now.
Wow. Keith actually made it.
I’m putting the key into the ignition.
Preston could almost taste that pumpkin latte.
Ugh. They just texted me.
Almost.
chapter three
When Keith had told Preston that the restaurant he wanted to take him to was near the ocean, Preston had imagined it was within walking distance. Maybe they’d be able to catch glimpses of the water or the occasional ocean scented breeze.
The restaurant turned out to be literally across a street from it.
It was the ocean, Highway One, and then the small town of Davenport, with the restaurant in question right there at the forefront.
“Wow,” Preston said, getting out of the car.
His legs felt a little stiff from sitting in the car for the two hours it took them to get through the very beautiful woods of the Santa Cruz Mountains. The foliage there might not turn different colors in the fall but it was breathtaking, filled with oaks and redwoods and Douglas firs.
And now that he was out of the car, he got to look at a different breathtaking sight.
The ocean stretched out before him. It was like the sky, stretching across everything, blue and shimmering and eternal.
“You like?” Keith asked, sounding like he was drawing closer.
“God yes.” Preston looked back at him and smiled. He heard the waves crash at the foot of the cliffs that overlooked the water, creating a rhythmic pulse.
Standing there, he never wanted to leave. He wanted to move out there, get a place in town, preferably looking out on the water, and never leave.
And he wanted Keith beside him.
Preston released a breath. They’d never be able to actually move out there. Getting Keith away from the office had been an adventure. Preston imagined his people would go nuts if Keith had to telecommute on a regular basis.
At least as crazy as Preston would get if Keith decided to just drive to work from there.
No. It’d be better to stay where they were now and come out occasionally. Get pumpkins in the fall, in the farm was half as awesome as Keith said it was, and maybe come back during the other seasons. The farm probably sold more than just pumpkins.
If nothing else, coming out more often might become research later. With writing, one never knew.
“So you’ve never even driven through here before?” Keith asked.
“No.” Preston glanced at him before looking back out at the ocean. Then, because the water looked the same color as Keith’s eyes, back at Keith to make sure.
Yup. The water was the same blue as his eyes.
Cool.
“I don’t think I’ve ever gone further than Santa Cruz,” Preston said.
While Preston had lived in the Bay Area his whole life, he didn’t often make the trek over the mountains. The last time was five years back, when he and He Who Preston Wished Some Would Drop a Piano On came out to watch the Fourth of July fireworks at Santa Cruz.
This was way better.
Quieter, with only the occasional car going by on the two-lane highway.
Sharper, with a strong wind coming across the water and bringing with it the smell of salt and water and cut grass.
Sweeter, because he was there with Keith. Who he loved. Who was now putting a hand on the small of his back. Who’d slipped off work early—okay, an hour later than he’d wanted, but slipped out nonetheless.
“It’s beautiful,” Preston said.
Keith smiled. It looked different than the smiles he usually gave Preston. Softer, somehow, and also shy.
“My dads used to take us here on our way to the pumpkin farm,” he said. “I’ve never been here with anyone who wasn’t family.”
Something warm and heavy throbbed inside Preston’s chest. It was a wonderful feeling, something he wanted to hold close and take care of.
Reaching out, Preston slipped his fingers through Keith’s and tugged him towards the restaurant.
“This place looks wonderful,” he said. “What’s the food here like?”
“Oh my God, it’s awesome. The last time I was here they had this salmon that was just heavenly.”
Preston could go for some heavenly salmon. He wouldn’t mind some heavenly steak either.
Then again, when one went to a restaurant near the beach, one should probably go for the sea food. It was probably insanely fresh.
Twenty minutes later, he discovered how insanely fresh—and heavenly—the salmon was.
“Oh.” Preston took another bite of his salmon. It was savory and had a hint of wine and dill and— “Oh my God. This is good.”
Across from him, Keith dug into his own salmon. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you like it.”
“Like it? If I wasn’t already married, I’d want to meet the chef.”
Keith shot him a faux frown. “Remind me not to take you anyplace nice again.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Preston said, “I’m sure the chef would just friend me.”
“Nope, no consolation. I think he’d fall for you.”
Preston snorted. “Between the two of us, I think he’d prefer you.”
“Really.”
“I would.”
Keith’s faux frown faded. “Alas for the chef, my heart already belongs to another.”
“Really.”
“Yup,” Keith said. “A very handsome and brilliant man. The chef might make the world’s greatest food but there will never be anyone else for me.”
Warmth crept across Preston’s face. He thought he was cute. On occasion, maybe hot. He liked knowing Keith found him attractive.
Preston took another bite of the salmon. The trip there might’ve taken a while but man had it been worth it.
The trip itself had also been entertaining. Not only had Keith’s assistant texted him a couple times, prompting them to pull over so Keith could respond, but Preston had also gotten a chance to brainstorm some ideas for his WIP.
Or, as Keith thought of it, his whip.
His husband was nothing if not thoughtfully kinky.
Keith’s phone dinged.
“Crap,” Keith said.
“Tell you assistant I said hi,” Preston said, taking another bite of the salmon.
“Will do.”
While Keith texted, Preston had a romantic interlude with his stomach, sharing that fine salmon with it. The meal also came with a fine rice pilaf but, let them be honest, he was there for the salmon.
“Okay, I’m free,” Keith said.
Preston raised an eyebrow at him.
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Keith returned to his salmon.
“Did you know that this trip could
take an hour and fifteen minutes if we took highways instead of backroads?” Preston asked.
Keith scoffed. “And miss coming to places like this or seeing all those trees?”
“Well...”
“Or getting to brainstorm ideas for your story?”
“Never mind. We needed the drive.”
“Yup. Not only has the trip been pretty, it’s also tax deductible.”
Preston laughed.
Then he made a mental note to talk about his project a little more. Tax season would sneak up on him before he knew it. If he didn’t jot down every expense when it happened, he’d have to do that months later. That could get ugly.
chapter four
Preston had never seen so many pumpkins. Considering he’d spent part of the morning looking at photos of them, that was saying something.
Everywhere he turned, though, there was a pumpkin. Small pumpkins, tall pumpkins, cute little round ones, also cute square ones, large pumpkins, even larger pumpkins, and pumpkins that made him rethink his definition of large.
Then there were the colors.
There were white pumpkins, orange pumpkins, green pumpkins, and pumpkins that were a pale orange. They were bright and beautiful and they went on for miles and miles—okay, more like an acre—with only a waist high wall of hay to keep the gourds from running amok.
Which, looking at Pumpkinzilla off in the corner, they might.
Preston smiled. He’d never seen so many pumpkins in one place, ever.
What didn’t see were other people.
Oh, there was an older man in a knee length coat and jeans at the entrance to the patch, welcoming them to the place.
There was an older woman in a nearby barn, offering them a wagon to carry their pumpkins in. She’d also mentioned having pumpkin pies, various vegetables, and hot chocolate to sell so Preston knew they’d be seeing her again in a bit.
Aside from them, though, the place was empty.
“Is this place usually so quiet?” Preston asked Keith.
Keith shook his head. “Don’t let the quiet fool you. We got here at a good time. During the evenings and on weekends, you wouldn’t be able to even get a wagon, let alone a parking spot. There’d be people all over the patch, in the barn, drinking all of the hot chocolate, and crowded in the maze.”
