13. Ember
EMBER
Just outside the farmer’s market, I stop for a second and take it in.
The trees in the square are ripe with orange and yellow leaves.
The breeze makes them dance in the wind and swirl along the ground like passing customers.
Booths of every size line the grass perimeter, and everywhere I look is a smiling face.
Decorated for the season, a wash of yellow, red, and orange frame the different color tents.
Honey, dog treats, baked goods. I even smell kettle corn and maple.
I’ve been to a farmer’s market before, but none as pretty as this.
None as happily situated amongst nature’s own beautiful backdrop.
In future years, I could have a booth here.
Maybe selling tickets to the kids’ haunted house.
Actually… I could do that this year. I don’t own a tent or a folding table, or even the tickets yet, but I can figure it out.
I’m the master of figuring things out. Rose helped me see that.
A solid body saddles up to mine. Whether it was intentional or not, he gave me space the rest of the way here.
It’s just as well. My whole body is aware of him, like it’s been held hostage.
Which is a little concerning to me since all he did was apologize.
I can’t even bear to look at him because I’m worried the fact that I know how tough his life has been will be written all over my face.
I’ve always had more self-respect than this, but when it comes to Devon Lachey, all rational thought leaves my body.
I’m drawn to him. I see it in his eyes, too.
That us coming together is nearly inevitable.
I just want to hold out for as long as I can, gripping that last shred of dignity because I’m not sure what the aftermath looks like for me as a newcomer to this small town.
Truthfully, one little apology doesn’t mean anything, and the last thing I want to do is get raked over by a guy who still wants to teach me a lesson.
Right now, Devon is my savior, whether I want to admit it or not.
What he did to the porch is a miracle. I’m that much closer to participating in the Haunted History Tour now.
I need him for the ballroom. If I let this heat that takes over my body get in the way of that, I’ll be screwed in a different way.
What with his meddling mother scaring off potential contractors and no one else in town being qualified to work on such a big project, I’ll be left high and dry, not to mention penniless.
Going all in on your dreams is scary.
“What do you see?” Devon’s gruff voice asks, breaking through my reverie. His voice is like a warm blanket, coating me. Despite the chill in the air, I’m getting heated again.
My gaze roams over the cozy, explicit autumn setting.
Chills wash over me, and I realize that this is exactly the kind of day I wanted to have when I decided to go for it.
That small town, everyone knows each other vibe.
Where there’s always a friendly face, and we get to have cheerful conversations under a backdrop of the most beautiful fall scenery I’ve ever beheld in person.
“Perfection,” I breathe. “That’s what I see. ”
I can feel his gaze move to me, but I keep staring straight ahead until the pull is too much.
Like a strong tide washing me out to sea, I turn toward him.
His gaze is curious, sincere. Maybe with an underlying edge that promises he would be fun, at least for one night.
Or maybe that’s what I’ll always see when I look at him now.
Just pure need wrapped in a blue-collar bow.
I can’t help to drop my gaze to his form.
His shirt hugs his biceps, tanned and weathered.
There are a few splashes of errant paint across his forearm that somehow only add to his allure.
Like a promise that he’s good with his hands.
His jeans taper around his waist, showing off the length of his legs that end in scuffed work boots.
Despite his figure, gone are the material remnants of his hockey-playing days.
He moves, drawing my attention upward again where he takes his ballcap off for a second to comb his hands through his hair before settling it back down again.
Science experiments should be done on why that is so attractive to the female gaze.
“Do you agree?” I ask, my voice squeaking a little, barely able to control my breathing.
“I’ve lived here longer than you, Sweetheart.” He places emphasis on the name, probably because I made such a big deal about it earlier. Honestly, I like it. I like it a little too much. “I just want to make sure you’re getting the proper introduction.”
I hook my arm through his. He stiffens momentarily before relaxing again, and I realize that yeah, I’m playing with fire.
This was not on my bingo card for the day.
I must be feeling extra sentimental toward the guy who is helping my dreams come true, just because he’s somehow acting nice to me today.
I try to move away, but he clamps his arm down, locking me in place. “I don’t think so. You started it.”
Immediately, he lets up the pressure, and I stay right where I am, the heat in my belly expanding. “Right now, I could really use an introduction to some cider.”
“Coming right up,” he promises, his voice a tad off kilter.
He leads me toward a booth on the left side of the lineup and all the way down.
When we get closer, I see it. Cider and doughnuts.
A few picnic tables surround the tent, making a squared off area.
They have the largest space in the square and people linger, chatting and eating.
We’re almost there, my stomach squeezing in anticipation when Mayor Lachey enters our point of view, bringing us to a halt.
She’s all smiles with perfectly coiffed hair and pearls in her ears.
“You two!” She does a cursory glance of our linked arms but doesn’t say anything or make any outward show that she’s seen anything amiss.
“I need to steal Ember away so she can meet all the other businesses in town. Mingling is so important in a town like Harvest Falls!”
Devon clamps down on my arm again as if to warn me that I’m not going anywhere, but he doesn’t have to tell me. I have the cider in my sights. Well, sort of. I have half the cider booth in my sights because the other half is Devon’s mom’s smiling, hopeful face.
“No can do, Mom. Ember’s about to have her first glass of real apple cider.”
“But…” She looks at me for help, but I move my gaze to the grass. She’s been so helpful, so accommodating, and I can’t stand letting her down.
“She’s got time for that after cider and doughnuts.”
“Well, I suppose.” Mrs. Lachey checks the thin, gold watch on her wrist, her shoulders drooping. A second later, she spots someone else and scurries off.
A deep breath of relief takes over, and Devon needles me with his elbow. “You were going to let her come between you and the cider. Don’t deny it. You were two seconds away from folding like a cheap tent.”
“Your mom is a…”
“Character,” he supplies.
“Yes, that. A formidable one.” I hold on to his arm more securely. “Plus, she’s done a lot for me since I got here. She got me the best carpenter in town. And the money for the porch.”
He shakes his head, an almost smile coming to his lips.
Instant pleasure washes over me. I know Devon enough to conclude that he doesn’t smile a lot.
He glares. He stares pensively. He concentrates a lot.
But smiling? Not so much. It’s a personal achievement to get his lips to move just that little bit.
“Well, the best carpenter in town is going to buy you a cider and doughnut.”
“I can—.”
He starts walking, effectively cutting me off. He stops near an empty picnic table. “You wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I have the chance to look around again at the quintessential small-town life, taking in the leaf garlands people lined their tent poles with along with witchy crafts and leaf-themed signs.
To my right, one of the baristas who works for Bea’s café waves, but then Devon sits across from me. “Are you ready for this?”
“I was born ready,” I state, mimicking his serious tone.
He starts unpacking a drink carrier, lining up two in front of me. “Cold cider, and hot apple cider.”
“Hot apple cider?”
He nods slowly, then takes out an orange napkin, placing it in front of me before adding a sugary doughnut. My stomach grumbles even though it hasn’t been that long since I’ve eaten.
“Which order should I do it in?”
Devon braces himself to answer, but I go right for the cup that doesn’t have steam wafting off it.
I chug a few swallows down, the flavors in my mouth exploding with apples and spice.
I take the cup away from my lips, my eyes wide.
Now that’s cider. I have nothing good to compare it to, but I know that’s what it’s supposed to taste like.
“Well?”
“Delicious,” I groan, my eyes nearly rolling into the back of my head.
I go in for another drink and when I open my eyes, Devon has his phone trained on me, pressing the screen a couple of times.
“Hey,” I protest.
He smiles wide, and it’s like a douse of warmth spreads over my skin like wildfire.
“Couldn’t help myself. Everyone should have their first experience with cider documented.
It’s a rite of passage in New England, actually.
” My phone buzzes as he taps on his screen again.
“Now you have another photo to share with your family as proof we just have it better up here.”
A full belly chuckle takes over my body. I love how unapologetically people love it here, especially on an evening like this. And I love how easily I’ve been accepted as an outsider, taken in under the umbrella of Harvest Falls like a chick with a broken wing.
“Just how did you get my number?”
“You mean the number you called me from when you didn’t know I was the handyman?” He grins. “Now if I were you, I’d take a bite of the doughnut and wash it down with the hot apple cider.”
Now we’re talking. I do as he says and moan out loud again. I’m simultaneously sad that I had to wait this long to try this and happy that this will become my new norm. Well, seasonally anyway. “It’s delicious,” I announce, covering my mouth as I talk.
He sips his own cup of cider, then a bite of doughnut when some of the cinnamon gets stuck in his scruff.
He wipes it with a napkin and keeps going.
Conversation flows easily. There are more smiles from him, and even more laughs from me.
After we finish, I buy a gallon of cider for the manor as Devon introduces me to the owners.
We chat for a while, and I ask them about supplying some drinks and possibly some doughnuts for the events I have planned at the manor.
I get handed my first business card, and I walk away feeling confident, assured.
“So about the manor…”
I perk up, wondering if this is when the mood of the night will change. Dread fills my stomach.
“You and Rose said something about a kids’ haunted house. I think it’s a great idea.”
I nearly stumble over my feet. “You do?”
“Kids growing up in Harvest Falls are always terrified of the manor. There’s so much lore passed down from generation to generation. Even when the Lewises owned it. Ghosts. Spirits. Hauntings. It’s ripe with it.”
“So, you’re saying…?”
“I’m saying I think kids will beg their parents to come to a haunted house there.” He switches my gallon of apple cider to his other hand. “And the doughnut and cider idea is genius. Plus, you’ll get the tourists.”
Nerves settle in my stomach, but I’m bursting with ideas, and I just can’t stop myself.
“So, I’m thinking the foyer could be used as a waiting area, and maybe half the ballroom is the haunted house, and the other has tables and places to grab the cider and doughnuts.
I was even thinking of having stations set up.
Bob for apples, maybe some fun, age-appropriate games. ”
“You’re going to need people to help run it. Someone taking the tickets, a person at the concession stand. If you’re going to have games, game attendants.”
I bite my lips. He’s right, but I want this so badly. “And someone to help build the haunted house.” I peer up at him, waiting.
“I suppose that someone is me, considering I’m the best carpenter in town.”
“Naturally.”
“I’ve never built a haunted house before.”
“Really?” I fake gasp. “I’ve built so many. Hundreds. Thousands, even. I’m surprised someone with your talent has never done it. What a travesty.” He shakes his head at me, but I forge ahead. “We’ll figure it out together.”
His pensive face is back as he looks me over. I wait for his decision, knowing that if he says no… I don’t want to say I might as well pack up and go home, but everything will be so much harder. Though, I suppose there are video tutorials online with basic carpenter skills.
“I’ve already started a Pinterest board,” I tell him like that will push him to agree.
“The answer to our problems,” he says mockingly.
“Is that a yes?”
He doesn’t even think about it. The answer comes smoothly, like there was never any doubt. “Let’s start tomorrow.”
My heart soars. I’ll put my mark on Harvest Falls before I know it.