Page 90 of Flirty Fall Fling

“Long life,” she says. “Good health. Money is coming, though you don’t care about it.”

It’s generic and safe. The exact tone I’d use for tourists who were seeing me for a bit. I relax.

Then she taps the center of the ball.

“And you’ll be engaged before the end of the year.”

I gasp. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She looks up at me and grins.

I narrow my eyes, wondering if Jamie was onto something when he asked me about a love reading.

“Thanks,” I say.

This woman didn’t know that. She couldn’t have. But even so, my ears are ringing.

“I’d like to ask you something,” I mutter to him as we walk away.

“Okay.” He loops his pinkie with mine.

“How many readings have you had?” I ask.

“Over the years?” He glances away, then back at me. “Hundreds.”

I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat. “Why so many?”

“My brother always dares me, and I never say no.” All he does is smile. “But I was searching for something. I think I found it in you.”

A chill rushes up my spine again, and I wonder if he feels the energy pulling us closer.

Guilt blankets me because I never actually told him what his cup said or what mine displayed after. I’ve kept it to myself, and I don’t want it to eat me alive. I almost confess it all in the middle of the street. The words sit on the tip of my tongue. As I’m about to speak, a large group of teenagers passes us, talking loudly, interrupting the moment. I take it as a sign that now is not the time, but I promise myself that I’ll find the courage to tell him before he leaves. He deserves to know that he will find the love of his life, even if that person cannot be me.

“You just went somewhere,” Jamie says, studying me. “Wandering a forest in your mind?”

“Something like that.” I squeeze his hand.

“Ooh, caramel apples. I haven’t had one in decades,” he says.

“Me neither.” I lead him toward the small food truck selling them.

It’s sweet and delicious, and it reminds me of my childhood. Jamie steals a bite of mine even though his is identical. We devour them and end up sticky.

Before I can dig for a napkin, he kisses me, beside the food truck, slow enough that someone says, “Aw,” when they pass.

He tastes like sugar and caramel. I could get used to this, which is exactly the problem. He offers me a wipe, and we clean ourselves quickly.

Two shops later, while he studies a wall of gargoyle bookends, I find a hematite disc on a leather cord, small enough to live in a pocket. It’s dark and plain enough that a man could wear it as a necklace without questions. It’s full of protection and grounding. I pay for it and swipe it off the counter with a thank-you. I hold it in my fist, setting the intention. Warmth spreads through me.

We step outside, not in a rush, but knowing the day is quickly fading into the afternoon. Our time here is coming to an end, and tomorrow, we will be back in Pine Haven. I have to open the shop at ten.

“Just one more stop before we go,” I tell him. “It’s somewhere I want to take you.”

I lead him down toward the water while the sun goes down. The harbor opens up at the bottom of the street. The smell of salt air surrounds us. The crowd is still on the streets, and the bars are coming alive.

I find an empty bench and pull him down to sit with me.

“My aunt brought me here,” I say. “We sat right here with a bag of saltwater taffy, and she taught me that the tide carried messages. You can whisper to the sea, and it travels wherever it needs to go.”