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Along a dusty gravel road lined with cornfields in all directions sits a small church with white paint peeling from the white lap-siding chapel. The steeple stands tall and straight, housing a bell that looks older than the nearest town. There’s a small dirt parking area next to the building that vehicles have created over years of Sunday services. Behind the lot, an old cemetery stretches beyond. Uneven rows of tilted and tired gray headstones are wedged into the earth.

We spent all morning getting this place set up for the event, and thankfully we’ve had great weather. There’s even a full moon, which feels lucky on Halloween. The place looks great. String lights hang between tall poles, crisscrossing above the cornstalks to light the maze. Their warm light glows against the dark sky, casting shadows that seem to come alive in the slight breeze.

Even with the consistent hum of conversation and laughter, this place has a spooky feel. Something about being near churches, cemeteries, and endless rows of corn at night is extra creepy. Luckily there are enough people here to soften the eeriness.

I snap a few more photos. I’ve captured more than enough content for the website and social media accounts to document the event. We’ll use it for marketing next year as well. This fall we had a record number of attendees, and we’ve raised a ton of money that will help create more programs for our sober-living residents.

The wall of corn stretches out behind the church like an infinite backdrop that disappears into the night; the last of the maze-goers are exiting and heading over to the fire pit on the opposite side of the church. Attendees walk around the property, cupping their hands around disposable cups of hot apple cider and hot chocolate while they join the amassing crowd at the bonfire. The sweet aroma of kettle corn and mini donuts combines with the earthy scent of bonfire smoke, dry cornstalks, and crunchy leaves. I breathe deep, filling my lungs with the enticing smell of autumn.

The black dress flares just enough to swish around my thighs, which are wrapped in matching lace stockings. Knee-high boots help keep the rest of my legs warm. The top of the dress dips lower than I’d usually wear to a work function, but these days it’s hard to find a Halloween costume that doesn’t show ample cleavage, so I fit right in with the other costumes I’ve seen tonight. Besides, the red hooded cloak draped over my shoulders falls to my ankles, providing coverage and warmth, though temperatures are higher than what we usually experience in late October.

I’m just tucking my camera into my pack when I’m startled by a familiar voice behind me.

“Hey, I think I’m lost. I was looking for this grandma’s house deep in the woods . . .”

I spin around with a smile and my heart nearly jumps out of my chest. A wolf mask covers the top half of his face, but there’s no mistaking it’s Casper—not to mention there’s no one here as tall as him.

He pushes the mask up, revealing his handsome face. I give him a once-over, taking in the boots, jeans, red flannel, and shirt covered in fake blood.

“Wow,” I say, tugging on the hem of his once-white top. “Are you sure you aren’t on your way back from Grandma’s house?”

He glances down like he almost forgot it was there, and chuckles. “I’m a messy eater,” he drawls, with a wink. Heat blooms across my cheeks, and something tells me that was the objective.

I like the wolfish Casper. He looks more rugged tonight in a way that makes heat curl low in my stomach. His flannel sleeves are rolled up on his forearms, exposing the tattoos inked across his skin. Even the bloody shirt is weirdly attractive.

I clear my throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Where else would I be?” He shrugs, as if it’s obvious.

As the words settle into my chest, my brain struggles to keep up; I’m still too distracted by how good he looks. When he dropped me off after our rooftop adventure, my skin was buzzing with anticipation, so much that I had to get myself off twice just to fall asleep. The second time I even texted him during it—not admitting to it; I just wanted that connection. I wanted to bring him closer while I pictured his hands moving slowly over my body, teasing me the same way his voice does. The thought of him touching himself had been enough to send me over the edge.

Standing here now, admiring Casper in the lantern light, with fake blood across his shirt, a wolf mask, and his forearms out on display, makes it very difficult to stay present and not imagine him like I did the other night.

One of my coworkers, John, exits the maze and shouts over to me, “Okay, all clear.” The announcement is like a cold bucket of water and I’m quickly reminded of my surroundings. I take a small step back from Casper after realizing how close we’re standing.

John pulls his phone out of his pocket and stops walking to read what I’m assuming is a text message. “Jenna says they’re running low on firewood. I think I saw some for sale back on County Road 12.”

“County 14,” I correct. I remember that the money bucket they used for the honor system was painted like a cow.

“Good looking out!” He laughs, heading toward his truck parked along the side of the road. “Hey, would you mind closing up the maze for me?”

“Yeah, no problem!” I call back.

“Thank you!” John jogs the rest of the way to his vehicle.

With Casper at my side, we walk toward the maze entrance. I move to pick up one of the sawhorses, but Casper beats me to it.

“Where do you want it?” he asks.

Smiling my appreciation, I point to where we’re using them to block off the openings. I clip on the chain with a CLOSED sign hanging from it, stretching across the barrier. Afterward, I power down the generator, cutting the lights, and a few whoops are heard as it darkens the field.

Around us, the stalks rustle in the wind, and the night starts winding down. Vendors speak softly with the last lingering guests behind their tents, and laughter drifts from the bonfire on the opposite side of the old chapel. The whole festival seems to fade away until it’s just the two of us standing here. Casper’s hand seizes mine, the contact making my pulse gallop. I glance up at him, his face illuminated by the bright moonlight. He steps into my space and stares down at me like a wolf that’s finally cornered its prey.

CASPER

I kill some time with apple cider and donuts for us to share.

“Do you have anything else you need to do?” I ask.