Page 47 of Manors & Mischief

I slap the table a couple more times. I keep doing that, but I can’t stop it either. I’m just getting too excited. “I knew you were my bestie for a reason. Yes, I want to do that. I haven’t even watched one horror movie since I’ve been in the house. I’ve mainly just been sleeping, cleaning, and planning. I’m already half out by the time I lay my head on the pillow.”

“Well, after tomorrow, you should take a little time off. Don’t you think, Devon?”

Devon takes a sip from his beer bottle, that Adam’s apple working again. It might be the beer I’ve drank, but I kind of wish I was the bottle. Which doesn’t even make sense, but somehow in my head, it does.

“Definitely. You should enjoy the season, too.”

“You know what’s fun? The hayride.”

Bea peers at Devon, and it’s as if I’m being set up for something. Devon nods. “The hayride is a lot of fun.” Suddenly, Devon jumps in his seat. He shoots Bea a look before saying, “We should go to the hayride together.”

I glance between the two of them because I’m not sure what happened other than it seems as if Bea is trying to get Devon to ask me out. I’m a little murky on whether he actually wants to or not, even though he did. “That could be fun.”

“It’s a blast,” Bea praises. “It’s by the same farm who does the corn maze, so while you’re there, maybe you could talk to Mark about participating in the Children’s Haunted House.”

Devon’s eyes are fixated on me. “Or we could just enjoy ourselves.”

A curl of want tightens in my stomach. Letting my guard down around Devon is proving to be difficult because I’m thinking things I’m not sure I should be. Maybe I’m making all of this up in my head and Devon really doesn’t want to go to the hayride with me, but he felt obligated to ask since Bea made it so obvious that’s what she wanted him to do.

Gosh, I didn’t think I’d have to navigate this kind of relationship here and now. Not while I’m trying to get the manor off the ground.

I peer at Devon, wondering if he’d be worth the trouble. Part of me thinks he is unless he just wants a fling. Something to release the tension between us. I don’t want to come into town, sleep with someone, and then have it be awkward for the rest of my life. With how Devon has proven he can be difficult, it’s not something I could just turn the other cheek to.

On the other hand, there’s a tug toward him that I can’t explain. The more I get to know him—without him being a giant dick—the more I like him. He’s kind. Sweet. Caring. The way he just took charge that day and fixed up the yard without me having to ask and not wanting anything in return, I don’t think there’s any way I could repay him.

Well, actually, there is a way I could repay him, but that’s the beer talking and all those images I have stored in my brain of his forearms, abs, and backward hat looks.

I need a shower. That’s what I need.

“You know,” I say. “I think this corset is finally getting to me. I better get back.”

“Devon will walk you,” Bea states at the same time Devon says, “I’ll walk you.”

They shoot each other looks, and I definitely know there’s something going on now.

My chair scrapes against the floor as I stand. I peer at the fresh glass of beer. “Please drink that so Travis isn’t offended.”

Bea smiles. “The things I do for you.”

I lean over. “And tomorrow we’re going to have a talk about boundaries.”

“Me?” she asks in feign shock.

“Yeah, you. You’re a shitty matchmaker.”

I stop talking because Devon rounds the table and stands in front of me. We both walk out of the building, him holding the door for me. A draft of cold air hits, and I shiver from head to toe like it came directly from my bones.

“It’s cold,” Devon remarks as he slips his Union Civil War jacket from his shoulders and places it around mine.

I’m cold enough that I don’t protest his nice gesture. The wind blows the curls I made earlier across my cheeks, and I take in the square at night. Antique lampposts provide circles of light over the sidewalks. The local businesses are dark, except for the pub, giving the place an eerie vibe. Or that could be all the mixed feelings I have about walking back to the manor with Devon. “You don’t have to walk me, you know.”

“I want to,” he says.

“Listen, about Bea,” we both say, and then I crack up. I stop almost immediately with a bit of a groan. The corset is really pushing into me now. I shouldn’t have had those two bowls of soup.

“You okay?”

“Just this corset. I don’t know how women did it. I might need a chainsaw to get it off.”