Page 48 of Manors & Mischief

He snickers.

“You laugh, but I’m serious. The corset and me are one now. Pretty sure it’s just grown into my body.” I rub the area where it hurts, hoping I’m not actually serious about this. It would be embarrassing to have to call someone to help me out of a dress.

“Let’s hope not. It’s a good look for you, but I think I favor the real you. The more modern take on Ember O’Malley.”

“Me too,” I admit. “But listen, about Bea, I’m not sure why she’s being so pushy. I haven’t said anything to her about… Well, about being into you or whatever it is she thinks might be happening between us. We’re just stewards of the manor at this point.”

“Ember.”

“I just didn’t want you to think that I’ve been talking to her like I have a schoolgirl crush because I don’t. She just has this weird idea about us getting together or something. I’m not sure. She hasn’t really even explained it to me.”

“Ember.”

“Which is none of her business anyway. I think she’s just looking out for the both of us, but it’s a little embarrassing the way she keeps trying to get the two of us together, and I in no way⁠—.”

“For God’s sake, Ember.”

I peer toward him, stopping when I see the look in his eyes. I can’t get another viable word out, and the only sound my body makes is, “Hmm?”

He grins. “Bea keeps speaking up because she thinks I won’t take chances anymore. She thinks I won’t…”

“Won’t?” I urge.

“Well, she thinks I won’t tell you that I know we got off to a rocky start, but I was kind of hoping that maybe you’d like to get to know me a little better.”

He lifts his shoulders, then rocks on his feet like he’s nervous. It’s endearing. “Really? But you’re older than me.”

His eyes lose hope for a moment, dimming, but then I quickly take it back. “I don’t care. It’s not that. I’m just shocked that you would be interested in me.”

“I know. I’m crazy. You’re beautiful. Talented. You have an entrepreneurial spirit that I admire. I have no idea why I would be interested. You sound awful, actually. Forget I asked.”

I laugh at that, chuckling through the pain the stupid corset is causing. “So you don’t want to take me to the hayride?”

“Nope. Worst idea ever.”

“Good. Because I don’t want to go.”

“Excellent. I won’t pick you up at seven then.”

“You better not. I won’t be ready.”

He steps forward, his fingertips trailing across my temples and then into my hair. My belly does a flip like I really do have a schoolgirl crush. It doesn’t matter that he’s dressed up as a century and a half old soldier, he’s so handsome. His eyes capturing mine.

“Where did you come from?”

18

DEVON

The truck roars to life as soon as I turn the ignition. I wave at Mrs. Donahue, my fifth-grade English teacher and my next-door neighbor. She gives me a sweet wave back. “Have fun today!”

Of all of my years living next door to her, I’m not sure she’s ever seen me off with a ‘have fun today.’ I just give her another polite wave in response and back the truck out of the driveway. Trees with every colored leaf imaginable line the street. It’s like an autumn postcard.

I once thought the very first thing I wanted to do was get out of Harvest Falls, but when I was away, I missed it. I missed how nice the people were. I missed the friendly greetings at every turn and how people genuinely cared how I was doing. When I was playing for Buffalo, I was just another face in the crowd. No one asked about my mother or grandparents. To them, I was just Devon Lachey, the new forward on the team.

It turned out being just another person wasn’t everything it was supposed to be. Of course, when people recognized me for being a hockey player, that was cool. But I also found it pretty comparable to when people say hi to me here. They don’t care if I’m sending goals into the back of the net or not, they like me either way.

My phone buzzes. The screen tells me it’s Bea, but calling from her business line. I put her on speaker. “Bea…”