Page 34 of Manors & Mischief

She blinks, disbelief flitting through her. “What for? I can think of a lot of things.”

“I’m sorry I misjudged you. Does that encompass everything?”

“Not really, but I’ll take it. For now.”

Damn my mom, Trav, and Bea for putting thoughts in my head. I already had my own attraction to her, but now I can’t stop thinking that maybe we are a good fit, if I could pull my head out of my ass.

“Are we okay?” I ask.

“We’re okay for now as long as you get me to the farmer’s market. I want that cider.”

The chilled air between us douses me in reality since I was thinking of wanting something completely different. “Cider, huh?”

“It would be perfectly refreshing right about now. It’ll really hit the spot.”

Her choice of words isn’t lost on me. Teasing. Baiting. She has me on the line, and she knows it. The question is, what am I going to do about it?

Before I can make a decision, she turns on her heel and starts walking toward town. “Are you coming?” she calls out over her shoulder.

13

EMBER

Just outside the farmer’s market, I stop for a second and take it in. The trees in the square are ripe with orange and yellow leaves. The breeze makes them dance in the wind and swirl along the ground like passing customers. Booths of every size line the grass perimeter, and everywhere I look is a smiling face. Decorated for the season, a wash of yellow, red, and orange frame the different color tents. Honey, dog treats, baked goods. I even smell kettle corn and maple.

I’ve been to a farmer’s market before, but none as pretty as this. None as happily situated amongst nature’s own beautiful backdrop. In future years, I could have a booth here. Maybe selling tickets to the kids’ haunted house. Actually… I could do that this year. I don’t own a tent or a folding table, or even the tickets yet, but I can figure it out. I’m the master of figuring things out. Rose helped me see that.

A solid body saddles up to mine. Whether it was intentional or not, he gave me space the rest of the way here. It’s just as well. My whole body is aware of him, like it’s been held hostage. Which is a little concerning to me since all he did was apologize. I can’t even bear to look at him because I’m worried the fact that I know how tough his life has been will be written all over my face.

I’ve always had more self-respect than this, but when it comes to Devon Lachey, all rational thought leaves my body. I’m drawn to him. I see it in his eyes, too. That us coming together is nearly inevitable. I just want to hold out for as long as I can, gripping that last shred of dignity because I’m not sure what the aftermath looks like for me as a newcomer to this small town. Truthfully, one little apology doesn’t mean anything, and the last thing I want to do is get raked over by a guy who still wants to teach me a lesson.

Right now, Devon is my savior, whether I want to admit it or not. What he did to the porch is a miracle. I’m that much closer to participating in the Haunted History Tour now. I need him for the ballroom. If I let this heat that takes over my body get in the way of that, I’ll be screwed in a different way. What with his meddling mother scaring off potential contractors and no one else in town being qualified to work on such a big project, I’ll be left high and dry, not to mention penniless.

Going all in on your dreams is scary.

“What do you see?” Devon’s gruff voice asks, breaking through my reverie. His voice is like a warm blanket, coating me. Despite the chill in the air, I’m getting heated again.

My gaze roams over the cozy, explicit autumn setting. Chills wash over me, and I realize that this is exactly the kind of day I wanted to have when I decided to go for it. That small town, everyone knows each other vibe. Where there’s always a friendly face, and we get to have cheerful conversations under a backdrop of the most beautiful fall scenery I’ve ever beheld in person. “Perfection,” I breathe. “That’s what I see.”

I can feel his gaze move to me, but I keep staring straight ahead until the pull is too much. Like a strong tide washing me out to sea, I turn toward him. His gaze is curious, sincere. Maybe with an underlying edge that promises he would be fun, at least for one night. Or maybe that’s what I’ll always see when I look at him now. Just pure need wrapped in a blue-collar bow. I can’t help to drop my gaze to his form. His shirt hugs his biceps, tanned and weathered. There are a few splashes of errant paint across his forearm that somehow only add to his allure. Like a promise that he’s good with his hands.

His jeans taper around his waist, showing off the length of his legs that end in scuffed work boots. Despite his figure, gone are the material remnants of his hockey-playing days. He moves, drawing my attention upward again where he takes his ballcap off for a second to comb his hands through his hair before settling it back down again.

Science experiments should be done on why that is so attractive to the female gaze.

“Do you agree?” I ask, my voice squeaking a little, barely able to control my breathing.

“I’ve lived here longer than you, Sweetheart.” He places emphasis on the name, probably because I made such a big deal about it earlier. Honestly, I like it. I like it a little too much. “I just want to make sure you’re getting the proper introduction.”

I hook my arm through his. He stiffens momentarily before relaxing again, and I realize that yeah, I’m playing with fire. This was not on my bingo card for the day. I must be feeling extra sentimental toward the guy who is helping my dreams come true, just because he’s somehow acting nice to me today.

I try to move away, but he clamps his arm down, locking me in place. “I don’t think so. You started it.”

Immediately, he lets up the pressure, and I stay right where I am, the heat in my belly expanding. “Right now, I could really use an introduction to some cider.”

“Coming right up,” he promises, his voice a tad off kilter. He leads me toward a booth on the left side of the lineup and all the way down. When we get closer, I see it. Cider and doughnuts. A few picnic tables surround the tent, making a squared off area. They have the largest space in the square and people linger, chatting and eating.

We’re almost there, my stomach squeezing in anticipation when Mayor Lachey enters our point of view, bringing us to a halt. She’s all smiles with perfectly coiffed hair and pearls in her ears. “You two!” She does a cursory glance of our linked arms but doesn’t say anything or make any outward show that she’s seen anything amiss. “I need to steal Ember away so she can meet all the other businesses in town. Mingling is so important in a town like Harvest Falls!”