Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
The sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline as the townspeople scurried about in preparation for tonight’s opening ceremony. We were less than an hour away from the week Bale and I waited for every year.
At the south end of the courtyard was a raised platform for entertainment and obligatory speeches.
Beyond that was Main Street, providing the perfect backdrop for any grand campaign pitches that would likely be made tonight.
Scattered throughout the spaces on either side of the platform were folks setting up tables to sell baked goods and handmade creations, and sign-up stations for various activities, including the oddly popular piglet races.
Just north of there were the grade schools, ball fields, and the therapeutic apple cannons. All of which would remain quiet until tomorrow morning, when school was in session, before letting out for all the little boys and girls to have fun shooting fruit at various targets.
The eastern edge of the courtyard that led towards the cornfields had a moderately-sized structure that spent the warmer seasons as a makeshift baby animal barn.
It is always a big hit with the youngins when it came to fluffy chicks, bunnies, and the occasional litters of puppies or kittens.
However, during the cooler autumn days, it transformed into something more recreational.
The corn pit was filled with dried kernels for jumping in, digging through, and pouring down tin chutes.
In the center of the gathering space sat the heart of the festival.
Large chunks of wood were being strategically prepared.
Each one laid with far more care than you needed for a pile of logs.
Tucked into the crevices were Marigolds, striking a difference between the pale brown pieces of oak and its more vibrant gold and orange hues.
Call it a homage to the town’s most beloved time of year.
At the end of the week, the bonfire would be lit to conclude the festival as we paid tribute to Falston’s ancestors and the harvest season. There would be music, drunk shenanigans, and laughter late into the evening.
Propping an elbow up on the massive back tire of the vintage tractor in the western corner of the courtyard, I casually picked some dried dirt off the connected toolbox. Each chip of dried mud that came off the rusted metal bin revealed faded paint from its original owner: Christopher Faust.
After I cleared the last speck of dirt away, I looked up and cast a withering glare at Bale.
“Could you have been more dramatic in the diner earlier?”
His response? An unapologetic shrug. Figures he would mirror my usual tactic against me, feigning indifference and basking in silence.
Leaning forward and dropping my words to a whisper, I pinned him with a serious look. “Come on. Tapping ‘die’ in Morse code in front of the whole Council? It was like you were begging them to make our lives… difficult.”
Bale scanned the flurry of activity around us, never shifting his gaze to me when he did respond.
“Do you ever wonder what would happen if we burned it all to the ground?” he mused.
Both brows shot up towards my hairline. “Burned what to the ground? The maze?”
“All of it. Every last square foot of Falston.”
I groaned and looked up at the sky as though it held all the answers to the world’s most puzzling mysteries. May the gods take pity on me; we were having this sort of start to the festival several days early this year.
Without fail, every year, Bale had an existential crisis during the fall festival.
Most often, it revolved around why we were compelled to do this, why we were stuck here, what purpose we had, and if things would ever change.
Now and again, he would throw an oddball thought into it.
However, for the most part, the sullen attitude and aggressive sulking lasted for at least one evening.
The best remedy I had discovered to date was stuffing him full with a hot meal, setting up a quick and dirty lay, and loading him up with enough bourbon-spiked cider to knock out a humpback whale.
“Look here, you weepy sack of straw. I don’t have the feathers to molt over this bullshit, not tonight.” I pushed off the edge of the tire and crowded his space, my boots knocking into his with how close I got.
Flicking the brim of his stupid cap, I looked him square in the eye with something in me bordering on promised violence. “Pull your shit together.”
He didn’t even flinch, bold blue eyes sharp enough to pierce through my skull, just simply held my gaze.
“Big words from a man who is about to turn into a whimpering fool, begging to become some girl’s feather duster.”
Bale’s words struck me hard, but it became a double punch when I realized he was looking just past my shoulder. I looked back over my shoulder, and sure enough, Harlow was halfway across the courtyard and striding in our direction.
Fuck.
She looked breathtaking, decked out in a dress that showed she had put thought into what she wore tonight.
The burgundy fabric seemed to float around her body like air, cinching tighter in all the right spots where her curves rounded beneath it.
The hem brushed along the tops of her knee-high suede boots, which were as dark as her shadowy black hair.
Her eyes, though. Those were the only accessories she needed.
Their depths held the aura of moss tucked away in the most inner parts of a forest, with a glint of sunshine revealing the secrets of their true beauty.
I could be a man dying of thirst, and I would reject every oasis just to choke on those emeralds.
Double fuck.
Bale grabbed my shoulders, roughly turning me before shoving me forward a couple of steps. Reflexes kicked in, allowing me to recover in record time and steady myself.
She drifted to a stop a couple of feet in front of me, and an amused smile ghosted over her lips. Shit, did I have something on my face? Something resembling human vulnerability?
Quickly, I schooled my expression back to smooth nonchalance with a hint of arrogance.
“You came. I thought after your disappearing act earlier, you’d find something else to pass your time. Change your mind?” I posed the question to her, genuinely curious as to her answer.
Her eyes darted to look at Bale, then back to me. “Something else? Everything in town is shut down for the opening ceremony,” she noted dryly.
Pausing a heartbeat and a half, she brushed a rogue lock of hair back behind her ear. A gesture so trivial, yet her fingertips managed to make it look elegant, maybe even slightly teasing.
“Tell me something, Corbin. Does Bale always look like he’s perpetually pissed off at the world, or am I just special?”
A snort echoed behind me before he replied, “If you’re looking to cut me open, kitten, you’ll have to use sharper claws than that.”
“He’s always like this,” I added.
Giving Harlow as much of an apologetic look as I was capable of, I extended my hand out to her palm up. “Now, did you come here to enjoy the start of the festival with us, or were you just planning on disappearing again?”
She took a moment to look briefly sheepish, trying to mask it with a soft chuckle. The faint dusting of pink on her cheeks gave it all away.
“I can’t help that you were easily distracted,” she murmured.
Her hand hovered over mine for what felt like an eternity before she finally made contact. Her choice to accept me, to accept us.
Our palms pressed together, my fingers curled around her hand, engulfing it. A fierce sense of protection washed over me, every fiber from my soul to the tips of my crow feathers, despite the form lying dormant in me.
The energy coursed between us, subtle but steady pulses. She must have felt it, too. Her breath hitched, and she swayed on her feet, leaning in towards me.
Even the air around us felt like it recognized something coming to fruition, the breeze ruffling our clothes in a gust. It was as though the wind itself had hands, nudging us closer together.
Just as our faces came within inches of each other, another set of hands parted us like the sea, one hand against my chest and the other on Harlow’s shoulder.
Bale’s husky voice interrupted the moment. “Break it up. You two look like you were about to turn this festival into a godsdamned romance novel.”
His hand fell away from my chest, but hell if I didn’t notice the way his thumb brushed not once, but twice across the front of Harlow’s shoulder before withdrawing his hand from her.
That split second of prolonged contact told me everything I needed to know. He wasn’t as unaffected by her presence as he pretended to be.
Harlow pressed her lips together, glancing around as if realizing that we weren’t alone in the courtyard, and the majority of the residents were still milling about.
Clearing his throat, Bale adjusted his cap on his head as his gaze turned cold. He looked at me and grunted. “What the fuck are you looking at? Wipe that damn smirk off your face.”
That look on my face? Realization that maybe this year’s corn maze chase wouldn’t be as one-sided as I originally thought. Instead of working together to corral and pounce on our chosen one, there would be an exciting edge of competition to it.
“Oh, you mean the look that says—”
Cut off by Mayor Dennison’s voice, it boomed through the courtyard from the speakers set up on either side of the main platform.
“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen of Falston! May I please have your attention?” A brief pause hung in the air as he waited for everyone to settle down and turn towards the platform before continuing.
“Welcome to our glorious town’s ninety-ninth annual fall festival.” He flashed a welcoming politician’s smile as he made a sweeping gesture with his arms, his hands urging the crowd to respond with applause. Like the puppets they were, they obliged.
Both Bale and Harlow turned to watch as the Mayor prepared to give his opening remarks. For a fleeting second, Bale’s hand hovered over the small of her back but ultimately fell away without contact.
Seizing the opportunity, I stepped up to the other side of her and planted my hand on the dip of her back just above her hips.
While Mayor Dennison droned on with his typical bullshit speech that doubled as a re-election campaign, I turned to look at Bale over Harlow’s head and smirked.
Then, because I was feeling petty, I broke contact with her briefly to flip him off behind her back.
That’s right, fucker. I’ve got the cojones not to shy away from our girl.
Wait—had I just thought of her as our girl? Shit. My girl. Mine.
My fingers returned to the small of her back and pressed more firmly, more possessively, into her spine before I forced them to relax.
Our town’s beloved figurehead continued his grand speech to kick off this week’s festival.
“Now that we’ve gotten all the formalities out of the way, the Town Council and I are honored to once again kick off this year’s festival with dancing, drinks, and an evening of celebrating the harvest season!”
Cheers and applause erupted all around us, and soon the band was assembled on the platform, upbeat music floating through the air.
The warmth of Harlow’s body was suddenly removed from beneath my palm as she was tugged away. Bale had grabbed hold of her hand and was heading to the center of the courtyard, where others were already gathered and dancing to the folksy-sounding music.
Bale looked back over his shoulder, grinning like a madman at me as he spun Harlow around before pulling her into a close hold.
Touché, asshole. Touché.