2. Devon
DEVON
“Excuse you?” the cute newcomer says, her mouth dropping wide.
I can’t believe nearly ten seconds ago, I was daydreaming about what she could do with that mouth. The way she was eye-fucking me was a pretty big clue as to what her mind was on as well, even though I have at least ten years on her. Who knew she’d been sent to ruin my life?
What the fuck kind of name is Ember anyway? My dick responded to it. It screams exotic, fun, but in reality, it’s a name given to a person by hippies, or even worse, millennials.
“You heard me,” I growl.
I’ll give her something. She doesn’t stand down despite the anger wafting off me.
Next to me, Flower Joe scoots his chair a couple of inches away.
He’s known for his fall displays with cornucopias and the like.
Right now, I’d like to throw one of them at Ember.
Maybe it would plug her stupid mouth so she couldn’t repeat those words again.
“I heard you being rude.” She peers around at everyone else.
“I bought Sleepy Hollow Manor, and I’m not exactly sure what I want to do with it during the middle of the festivities but…
” She peers around, that smile that charmed me from moment one comes out again revealing straight, white teeth.
“…I’m proposing to end the festivities with a Fall Ball. ”
Gasps chorus around the room. I look around for the offending traitors, but can’t figure out who it was because everyone avoids eye contact.
“That place is in rough shape,” Bea says. I snap my gaze to her, and she angles her face away as if she can feel my eyes bore into the side of her head.
“I know it hasn’t been occupied in several years and hasn’t been used for the Fall Spectacular in at least a decade—.” She takes a stack of papers out from a small messenger bag and distributes them around the table.
“Oh, goodie, she’s done her homework,” I scowl. At the top of the paper she gives me, it reads Fall Spectacular Proposal Sleepy Hollow Manor by Ember O’Malley. I’ve never hated a name more. I’ve never hated a person more.
She grits her teeth. “Which is why…” She cuts her gaze to me. “…it needs to be added back in.”
Her voice is hard, or at least attempting to be. In all honesty, if I wasn’t so pissed, I’d find it cute. Anger doesn’t suit her. She’s like a little mouse trying to scare away a tiger.
“That’s awfully generous of you,” the mayor says. “A Fall Ball?”
A quick glance at her, and I can already see the visions playing out in her head. The corners of her lips turn into a smile. She nearly stares at the ceiling, as if she’s envisioning the whole thing playing out on the surface like a projector, and she likes what she sees.
“I love it.”
Ember makes a noise that can only be described as a squeak. It’s so high-pitched it could be used in a torture chamber. I stand from my chair, sending it flying into the wall. “This is bullshit.” I move toward the door. “And if you think I’m helping, you’re crazy.”
One last look at Ember, and I find her staring at me with her mouth agape again. When our gazes connect, she snaps her mouth shut, and lifts her chin. Little mouse with a brave face. We’ll have to see about that.
Deep down, I know it’s not her fault, but it doesn’t change anything. Ember O’Malley squashed my dreams with one sentence. The sooner I put space between us, the better.
In Harvest Falls, we can traverse from one side of town to the other in about ten minutes. It takes me five to get to HFB, Harvest Falls Brewery & Pub, owned and operated by my best friend, Trav.
I find a seat at the bar, and when he turns with a bar towel slung over his shoulder, his brows shoot into the air.
“Hey.” He reaches behind his back without looking away and then pops the cap on my favorite craft brew that has hints of caramel and toffee before handing it over.
“That bad, huh? Let me guess, you’re doing everything for the Fall Spectacular? ”
“Worse,” I grumble, then I take a long swig. The problem with Trav’s custom flavors is that they go down way too damn easily.
“Your mom tried to hook you up with someone again.”
“Even worse.”
This throws Trav off. He knows I’m an easygoing guy, and only certain things set me off. It doesn’t take long for the wheels in his brain to turn and come up with something close to the truth. His gaze narrows slightly. “Sleepy Hollow Manor.”
I nod.
“Well, don’t leave me in suspense.” He grabs an empty glass and starts wiping it out.
“It’s been sold.”
Trav pauses. He quickly glances up at me and swallows. His gaze brims with pity. “I’m sorry, bro. Who? Can’t your mom do anything about it?”
The laugh that bellows out of me catches him off guard. “Mom was too busy doing that faraway look where she imagines our Fall Spectacular being bigger and better than Heritage’s.”
“Wait. The new owner came to the planning meeting?”
I nod once. “Her big idea? A Fall Ball.” Gesturing with my fingers outstretched, I make sure to cling to the neck of the bottle before taking another swig again. “She handed out a proposal. A physical, typed-out proposal. On paper.”
He laughs, then it cuts off. “Wait, did you say her?”
I swallow, the hints of caramel and toffee still clinging to my tongue as a vision of Ember O’Malley forms in my head without my consent. Tan skin, perfect, pouty lips. Honey blonde hair that falls just past her shoulders, and a body—. “Yeah.” My voice sounds tight around the word. “I said her.”
“That’s an interesting development.”
“How so?”
He leans onto the bar with a slight smirk. “When’s the last time a single female moved to town?”
A long time. When we were in high school, actually. Usually it’s always families that settle here. Instead of saying that, I finish my beer and look at him. “I didn’t say she was single.”
“You didn’t have to. Your look said it all.”
“Well, I don’t know if she’s single. She showed up at the meeting alone, but that’s not unheard of. We were all there without partners, and—Why am I even answering this question? I don’t know her other than she’s stolen everything from me.”
“I didn’t even ask a question.”
“You sure as hell did. You asked the last time a single female moved to town.”
“Which has nothing to do with…”
“Ember,” I supply.
He only grins in response.
“Oh, fuck off.”
“I give it a week.”
“She’s young.”
“Maybe two.” The bell above the door announces a customer entering, and Trav’s gaze flicks up. “I change my mind. I give it less than a week.”
I follow his stare, and my grip on the bottle tightens when I spot Ember a step inside the place, her gaze roaming all over the wood walls and open ceiling beams.
Turning, I nearly growl under my breath. She looks more beautiful than when I first saw her. The scarf Bea gave her covers the coffee stain and adds a little something to her outfit that I can’t put my finger on. Hourglass figure, pink cheeks. She hits my own personal checklist.
“I got a seat for you right here,” Trav calls out.
“Traitor.”
He ignores me, but only because my voice gets drowned out by Ember O’Malley’s honey-sounding pitch. “Actually, I was looking for Devon Lachey.”
Trav looks uncertainly over at me, but he flashes her a big smile. “Just in luck because you found him.”
He gestures toward me, and when she gets to the bar, eyes all bright and hopeful, it dies on her face when she sees who I am. “You’re Devon Lachey?”
“The one and only.” I go to take another swig of my beer when I remember I already drank it all and end up putting it back on the bar and moving it away.
“You’re the guy everyone thinks will help me with my car trouble?”
I laugh at that. No sense in denying we both think I’m the last person who would help her right now, and good thing I always know I’m right. “The people of Harvest Falls are funny like that.”
Her shoulders drop. “More like cruel.”
“You didn’t get your proposal approved?” I ask, genuinely hopeful.
She leans against the bar, a self-satisfied smirk peeling her lips apart all triumphant like. “No, that’s been fully approved by the mayor.”
Mom and I are going to have a talk about this. I already know what she’ll say but it doesn’t make it any less traitorous. “That’s too bad.”
“I think you mean congratulations.”
“No, I definitely don’t mean that. I mean it’s too bad.” I flick my gaze up to Trav who is peering back and forth between us. “Good luck finding a contractor to do the work on the place.”
He hides a smile because we’re both dicks, apparently.
“I’ve been given a name.”
I smirk to myself, and this time, Trav can’t hide it either, but he quickly turns into brewery owner mode. “Can I get you something?”
She shrugs, peering over at me a tad wistful. Her eyes do that thing where she drags them over me. I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it. “I guess a menu, and I’ll look up a tow truck or something.”
The screen of her phone lights up her face as she starts typing into it, her lips turned down, troubled.
I war with myself because I’m not one to leave a stranger stranded, but I can’t say I’ve been faced with one who has so blatantly fucked me over.
Even Trav keeps looking at me like I’m going to change my mind and give in to this princess.
She sighs. “There’s nothing in this town like that. Except you, apparently.”
Trav slides a menu in front of her. She picks it up, her lips in a definite frown now. “It’s just that I’ve been waiting a whole week to see the place.” She gestures with her hands and the menu goes with it, nearly catching one of Trav’s servers, but Ember is oblivious.
My stomach knots tighter. “A whole week, huh?” Try years. Try fucking decades. I shake my head. She sounds pretentious.
“What’s wrong with your car?” Trav asks.
The server, picking up new drinks, butts in. “Oh, something wrong with your car? Good thing Devon’s right here.”
I smile at Laurel. She’s a sweet girl. Ember, though, looks like someone rammed a rod up her backside. I’m sure she really appreciates everyone recommending me when I’m the last person who will help her.
What can I say? A small town means I’m one-of-a-kind.
“I think I’ll take your pumpkin and sausage soup.”
“You got it,” Trav says.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those fall people. The ones who drink the pumpkin spiced lattes and consume everything pumpkin for the better part of three months.”
“I also watch Halloween movies like they’re going out of style.”
Trav puts a glass of water in front of her and she smiles before bringing it to her lips and drinking. She nearly finishes all of it, then looks sheepishly at the glass before placing it back on the bar top.
“My name’s Ember.” She gives me a look. “I’m basically named after the season. Sept-ember. Nov-ember. My birthday was even earlier this month.”
Millennials. Just like I thought. Which shouldn’t bother me because I’m technically a millennial. But I’m not that kind. If I’d had a kid, I would’ve named it something sensible, like Mary.
“September is the perfect time to have a birthday in Harvest Falls. Everyone will be celebrating with you,” Trav says, making conversation.
“If she lasts that long.”
“Well, almost everyone,” my friend clarifies as Ember shoots me daggers.
I actually like fall. I don’t get into the pumpkin lattes and festivities because this is my busiest time of year.
Setting up corn mazes, fixing tractors for wagon rides, repairing booths for the Fall Spectacular.
It all falls under my jurisdiction. By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, I’m in need of a year-long nap.
“I’ve always loved my birthday,” she says.
I nearly gag. Everyone loves their birthday.
One of Trav’s waitstaff brings out the bowl of soup for Ember, and her eyes light up.
They’re a beautiful caramel brown with hints of gold.
Intoxicated by her, I watch as she takes a spoonful of the soup.
Her eyes flutter closed, and she licks her lips decadently.
It’s enough to make me shift in my seat uncomfortably.
She peers at Trav. “Please tell the chef this is delicious.”
“Thank you,” he says. “You just did.”
Her eyes bug out. “You made this?”
“Family recipe.”
I’m definitely not liking the way these two are smiling at each other. Like Trav hung the moon because he can dump a bunch of ingredients into a saucepan and stir. Not to take away from my best friend’s talents, but—. “So, what’s wrong with your car?” I interject.
She peers over at me, then promptly looks away.
I wonder for a split second if she’s even going to answer, but then finally, she says, “I ran out of gas.” She sticks her chin in the air like it’s akin to showing her claws.
“I was running late for the meeting, plus, gas stations were few and far between on the way here.”
“Well, if that’s all, you can just walk to Sleepy Hollow,” Trav offers.
“Walk?”
“You can walk anywhere in Harvest Falls within ten minutes. It’s sort of our claim to fame. You’re already halfway there.” He points up Main Street. “Last house on the left. You can’t miss it. It’s the biggest in town.”
A huge grin instantly transforms Ember’s face. “You, Sir, are a lifesaver. Can I get the rest of this to go?”
“You got it.” Trav taps the bar, and then disappears back into the kitchen.
A clipped, cold voice breaks the silence. “Would’ve been nice to know I could get there by walking.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“I’m pretty sure I made it clear I couldn’t wait to see the place.”
“Haven’t you seen it already? You bought it.”
Ember stands from the stool and rearranges Bea’s scarf. “I’ve only seen it in pictures.”
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. Again. I’m deranged today, and for some reason, this woman brings out the worst in me. “You bought a derelict, century-old house without seeing it in person? You must be a top-notch businesswoman.”
Her gaze narrows as she glares at me. She pulls her shoulders back. Her eyes hold mine, sparking in anger. I would regret such a harsh statement if she hadn’t yanked my dreams out from under me.
She takes out some cash and places it on the bar top.
Trav comes out just in time to hand her a to-go bowl with a plastic spoon.
“Thank you for your hospitality. It’s good to know some people around here are kind-hearted.
” She slices me another look before turning around and heading out of the brewery.
My stomach clenches, but this is actually a good thing. The sooner she realizes I am not her friend, the better.