Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
“Seen the new girl?” I asked as I leaned against a stack of crates filled with freshly-picked apples from the next town over. The festival volunteers had left them here in the high school’s neglected baseball field in preparation for the festival’s apple shooting game.
Ever since the old Faust homestead had been left uncared for, the town’s local supply of sweet McIntoshes had dissipated. Instead, we were stuck with the flavorless Red Delicious variety from the grand ole town of Sunford.
My hands remained tucked in the front pockets of my jeans, keeping them warm from the crisp autumn air. The worn fingerless gloves on my hands did fuck all against the dropping temperatures of the season.
One of Corbin’s brows raised. “Which one?”
Exhaling sharply, I curled my hands into fists inside my pockets.
“You know damn well which one. The one that moved into the old farmhouse.”
He pulled out a cigarette from the pack that was always tucked into his back pocket. “Again, I’ll ask, which one?”
Using a cheap lighter from the gas station that only worked half the time, he lit up the tip of the cigarette while speaking around the filter-end between his lips.
“Two sisters. One barely legal, and the other old enough that she shouldn’t be living at home—or in the cottage, as it may be.”
My hands slowly unfurled from their clenched state. “The older one, is she the one who was poking around the town archives?”
Last night, we overheard the town’s librarian making note of her interest in the town’s history.
Mrs. Sampson was quite the lush and gossiper.
She would talk your ear off about the importance of the Dewey Decimal system while simultaneously disclosing the secret ingredient in Larry Stillwater’s famous pumpkin pie.
Needless to say, everyone in Falston now knew that the ‘special something’ in his pie was canned filling.
The part of last night’s interaction that grabbed my attention inside the town’s sole watering hole was how Mrs. Sampson described the new girl.
“That Lenoir girl is smart as a whip, perhaps too much for her own good. Though someone ought to tell her it’s time to leave the nest and build one of her own. She’s too pretty of a thing for her womb to be collecting more dust than the archives section.”
“Oh, her. Yeah.”
Seemingly taking a moment to further consider my inquiry, Corbin took another long draw from his cigarette. Slowly, he exhaled the smoke upward towards the cloudless sky. “She was at Bill’s this morning. I may have flown by.”
I raised a brow at the way he held his breath before all but confirming he had seen her. Of course, the nosy bastard couldn’t resist taking flight in his crow form to spy on one of Falston’s newest inhabitants.
“And?” I prompted for more details. Specifically, whether she was worth tossing into the corn maze or not.
He gave a shrug that said nothing and everything. The motion caused a long strand of midnight black hair to fall forward just shy of brushing his upper lip. All the remaining strands stayed slicked back like some modern-day emo rock god.
Corbin’s nonchalance was infuriating. There were days when I wished my idiot best friend would be less enigmatic and more brutally straightforward.
Losing the last of my patience, I muttered, “Have to do everything my godsdamn self.” Then, I pushed away from the apple crates.
His hand shot out and grabbed my shoulder. “Now wait just a damn minute. I thought we had a plan laid out for this year: we rig the corn chase for the sheriff’s daughter.”
If I rolled my eyes any harder, it would have hurt. “You mean Hannah-the-Ho Hawkins? If I wanted a subpar blow job, I’d have visited her after her boyfriend broke up with her on Valentine’s Day.”
Snorting, he tossed his cigarette butt carelessly onto the ground near the base of a few stacked straw bales.
My eyes widened.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I quickly stomped out the fire hazard with my boot. “Try using that damn brain once in a while, huh?”
Corbin plucked a shiny red apple from the top crate and casually tossed it between his hands. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the cross frame today.”
Sleeping in the corn maze on the wooden frame in my other form was my way of ensuring I got the rest I needed without interruption. It was more habit than need most days, though when I was feeling sluggish, it gave my powers a bit more pep and buzz.
Corbin obnoxiously took a larger-than-needed bite from the apple, resulting in a loud snap followed by even louder crunches as he chewed. Speaking through several more bites, he managed to grit out a few intelligible words.
“All I’m saying is that we had a plan.” Corbin swallowed. “Let’s stick to it. Chase little miss Hannah through the maze, you can get your underwhelming blowjob, she gets put out of her misery, and we call it a year.”
For fucks’ sake, I didn’t dream about this week all year long just to settle for some mediocre lay. Hannah may have been decent on the eyes, but she wasn’t a challenge. If there were any karma in the universe, she’d somehow get run over by the sheriff’s cruiser during the Pumpkin Parade.
Much like the risk of lightning in the field, a realization struck me. I stared at Corbin with narrowed eyes. “And you’d be satisfied with her?”
He paused mid-bite. Slowly lowering the apple, he swallowed what remained in his mouth before speaking with carefully chosen words. “Figured you could enjoy the spoils by yourself this year.”
This lying son of a bitch…
I grabbed the front of his black zip-up hoodie and jerked him forward so we were nose-to-nose.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I snarled through clenched teeth.
The sweet scent of ripe fruit tainted with nicotine on his breath wafted up through my nostrils as he responded. “Just not feeling the whole fuck-and/or-murder vibe this year. I’ll still steer the prey in your direction, but the trophy is all yours.”
My fists clutched onto the cotton of his hoodie so tightly I was surprised the threads hadn’t begun to tear. Looking into his amber eyes, something in them stared back into my denim-colored hues. Something that tasted an awful lot like softness—weakness.
Abruptly, I released him as I shoved him back. He stumbled several steps before steadying himself. Corbin attempted to brush himself off and put up that infuriating wall of indifference once more, but it was too late.
My fingers ran through my burnt honey locks of hair, pulling on a handful of the shaggy cut as I got my bearings.
Blowing out a lungful of air, I dragged a hand over the front of my face in realization of what was going on here.
Subconsciously, my fingertips lingered over the tattoos etched onto my skin.
Each inked mark mimicked coarse stitches across my right cheek, above my left eyebrow and temple, and along the left curve of my stubbled jaw.
Clenching my molars together, I spoke in a tight voice. “It’s her, isn’t it?”
Silence. Damning silence.
Growling under my breath, I yanked my patchwork cap from my back pocket and tugged it down onto my head with practiced ease. I gave one final tug on the thin brim before turning away from him.
Stalking off, I tossed back over my shoulder at him, “Change of plans, Corb. New girl is this year’s runner.”
That caught his attention as he strode after me, but not before his half-eaten apple whooshed past my head in a poorly aimed shot. Nevertheless, I didn’t slow my pace as I headed towards the center of town.
“Bale! Wait up!” he shouted from behind me before he finally caught up and grabbed my shoulder. “Let’s not get your straw twisted.”
I stopped and spun to face him, shrugging his hand off me.
“Don’t.” I snapped. “We’re in this together, it’s always been you and me, tied to this fucking town. Cursed to be here and see it go through the same damn shit year after year.”
My chest rose and fell rapidly, fully in line with my temper.
Corbin looked as exasperated as he ever could be, which wasn’t much. Asshole had the emotional range of a brick wall at times.
“I know that as well as you do, but I’m telling you that she’s it for me.
There’s something about her that I can’t shake off and ignore.
A godsdamn drug, addiction, vice—whatever you want to call it.
But the two of us?” He gestured between our bodies.
“Still in this for life, however long that is. The hunt won’t stop, and neither will we. ”
With my arms crossed over my chest, my fingers drummed along my bicep. I considered the sincerity of his words.
“Suppose I believe you, what do you propose we do about the chase?” Because if he had a proposal, now would be the time to lay it out for me.
He smirked, and that was enough.
I leaned in, mirroring the mischief in his face. “Tell me what’s going on in that intelligent brain of yours.”
Without responding, Corbin walked ahead. Bastard had a plan and wasn’t sharing. He could share pussy but not whatever devious scheme was hatching inside his mind? Asshole.
Five minutes later, we were both right outside Pages & Purrs, the secondhand bookstore that also doubled as the owner’s tax write-off for her status as the town’s crazy cat lady.
Leaning against the brick exterior, my shoulder welcomed the slight warmth from the sun-heated surface as I waited. My boot tapped with growing impatience while Corbin just stared at the door to the town’s literary haven.
“Why are we standi—”
His hand slapped over my mouth, cutting off my words as the jingle of small silver bells affixed to the store’s door handle sounded as someone exited.
The first thing that I saw was the way her hair got caught in the wind, with the midnight strands defiantly reflecting the sunlight. As she turned to look behind her, her smile was carefree, and her laughter sent a shiver down my spine.
“Beth, you are a terrifying, walking hazard! How have you managed not to trip your way straight into the back of an ambulance yet?” she said to the younger girl exiting behind her.
Damn Corbin. Damn him to whatever hell eventually awaited us.
Without any gentleness, I wrapped my hand around his wrist and shoved his hand away from my mouth, only after snapping my jaw shut.
I wanted to hate her, and maybe I did in a way.
She was gorgeous with hips that swayed effortlessly and sharp eyes that could cut through any man who had a functioning dick. Her voice sounded like the moon rising over the cornfield at night — luminescent and all-consuming.
The two of them chattered, each of them carrying a small paper bag bearing the Pages & Purrs logo.
“I’ll see you at home, Harlow. Don’t forget the apples that Mom asked you to pick up,” the younger girl gleefully reminded the older, taking her sister’s shopping bag before turning and striding off down the sidewalk.
Harlow. A hill to be conquered, or perhaps the hill I would die on. Only time would tell.
The object of desire that my best friend was inexplicably linked to turned her back on us as she waved off her sister.
Before Corbin could make a move, I pushed past him. If my shoulder just so happened to collide with his, I’d blame it on the wind.
I was right at her back the moment she spun around to be on her way. Stopping short of colliding with my chest, she gasped out in surprise as she stared up at me. Her glossy, pink lips parted in a small ‘o’ at my unexpected proximity.
She had to stand somewhere around five-three from my towering view of the top of her head. When she straightened with a sudden snap of composure, it gave her at least another half inch.
“Sorry,” she murmured politely.
“Are you?” I canted my head, internally enjoying needling her.
The fire lit up in her eyes. So, she wasn’t a pushover.
Interrupting our little introduction, Corbin arrived at my side in the blink of an eye. His arm slung itself over my shoulders while he patted my chest roughly with his free hand. A solid thunk echoed inside my ribs.
“I apologize for my friend. He hasn’t had his court-mandated coffee yet this morning.”
Her expression softened fractionally. Mine hardened in Corbin’s direction.
“Lucky for him, I’ve had mine.” A slight quirk of her lips.
Sexy little tease.
“I’m Corbin, and this is Bale.” He extended his hand to her.
I watched as her eyes darted between us, a spark of interest or maybe it was curiosity? Didn’t matter which, we had her hooked one way or another.