Chapter 21
Honey
Honey woke up with a sore neck and a crayon stuck to her cheek.
The morning light filtered through the window, casting a hazy glow across the living room. The fire in the hearth had long since burned down to ash, and the room was quiet except for the soft ticking of the kitchen clock and the slow, even breaths of the baby goat still curled beside her.
Despite Ethan’s continued insistence that Pickles would be just fine, she hadn’t been able to pull herself away.
He’d finally stopped shivering sometime after midnight, nestled tight against her side.
She’d stayed there on the rug, curled in front of the fireplace with one hand resting gently on his ribs, counting each rise and fall of his chest.
At some point, someone must have thrown a blanket over her. She let out a quiet groan as she eased her arm out from beneath Pickles. She shifted to sit up—
And stopped.
Ethan.
He was lying a few feet away, stretched out on his back. His head rested on a balled-up jacket, one arm slung over his eyes, the other sprawled between them, fingers just grazing the edge of the blanket like he was reaching for them.
Shadow covered his face, the morning light not quite reaching him. His jaw, dusted with stubble, looked sharper from this angle, but he furrowed his brow even in sleep—like whatever tension lived in him during the day refused to let go.
Then, his lashes fluttered, his eyes opened, and he caught her watching him.
“Morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep.
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Same as you.”
“I was making sure Pickles was okay.”
Ethan’s gaze drifted from her undoubtedly wild hair to the goat tucked against her side. “Yeah. Well. After you flung yourself into a well in the middle of the night, I started to question if you were okay.”
“I did not fling myself anywhere.”
“That’s not how I saw it.”
Okay, maybe she had launched herself over the well’s rim without much of a plan.
But when she’d seen the little goat’s tiny head bobbing in the water, something had switched off in her brain and lit up in her chest. It wasn’t until her feet hit the bottom and coins skittered underfoot that the cold pierced her skin.
All she’d been able to think about was the frantic little creature.
Tucked against her shirt as Ethan hauled them out, he’d shivered against her skin.
Now, she rubbed a hand over his fur, and a sigh trembled through his little body, assuring her he was alright. “I did what was necessary.”
“You acted without thinking,” Ethan said, standing up with a groan and crossing into the kitchen headed for the coffeepot. “It was very out of character.”
“Maybe I’m evolving,” she said, tipping her chin up. “That’s what happens when you drop a structured woman into the chaos of Brim’s Hollow.”
“You may end up a farm woman yet.”
She watched him move around his kitchen, the ease in the way he reached for the filters, filled the carafe, and set the coffeepot to brew. She caught herself imagining what it would feel like to belong here with him moving easily around her as though she’d always been part of the picture.
“I might not mind it.”
He turned the coffeepot on and leaned his elbows on the island, studying her. “I’m not sure if that scares or impresses me.”
She laughed softly, and he looked at her for a beat longer before saying, quieter now, “Thanks. For finding Emma.”
“Of course.”
If only all the problems plaguing the Hale Family Orchard could be solved with a single leap of faith.
The memory of the men from yesterday tightened her shoulders.
She’d stood there with nothing really to stop them.
It was an awful feeling, helplessness, and she imagined Ethan felt it even more acutely than she did.
The coffee machine burbled. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
“You’ll figure out how to save the orchard,” Honey said, and for once, she was proud of herself for biting back the five follow-up suggestions crowding her tongue.
Ethan turned his back to her and busied himself with the coffee. The clink of a spoon against ceramic filled the kitchen as he added cream and sugar to one of the mugs. For a second, she thought that was the end of the conversation.
“The goats won’t be enough,” he admitted. Then, with his back still turned, he asked, “Did you have any other ideas?”
Something about the question fluttered in her chest. “I have a whole file of them,” she said softly.
He turned around slowly, a mug in each hand, and—damn it—his dimple was showing. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
He came around the island to where Honey was standing and stopped in front of her, offering one of the mugs. Their fingers brushed as she took it, warm porcelain against warm skin, and neither of them pulled away.
“You’re the kind of person who makes a file.” His voice dipped. “And the kind of person who jumps into a well to save a goat in the middle of a storm.”
His eyes held hers. The space between them crackled.
“I like that about you,” he said.
She almost smiled. Almost leaned in.
Then the front door banged open.
“Morning, Hale family!” came a sing-song voice. “I’m here for your children.”
Ethan closed his eyes for a second like he was praying for patience, then opened them with a tight smile. “Morning, Nova.”
Melly came in like a blur and threw herself at Nova’s legs.
Nova scooped her up and hugged her. “Go get dressed and get your sisters,” she said, placing her back on the ground. “I’ve got big plans for today.”
“Is it a man or a lady ghost? Do you think they’ll play paper airplanes with me?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Nova said with a wink, and Melly tore off down the hall, yelling for her sisters.
“I take it you’re Honey.” Nova bopped in.
“I am.” Honey instinctively stepped back from Ethan, suddenly aware of how close they’d been standing. “Honey Baxter. Bureau of Compliance.”
She said it crisply, without looking at Ethan, but the reminder landed just the same. She told herself she’d said it to reset the distance. To reassert that she was here on assignment, not to get swept up in the warmth of a man with kind eyes and a dimpled smile.
Nova picked up on none of that.
She grinned at Honey as if they were already best friends. “You’re so much cuter than Ethan said. No offense, but I imagined someone with glasses and a clipboard permanently attached to their hand.”
Honey gave her a polite smile. “Don’t worry. I take the audit very seriously.”
“So I’ve heard.”
There was a beat of silence. The words were innocent. Nova hadn’t meant anything by them, but they struck harder than they should have. Honey held her smile anyway.
Nova’s gaze bounced between her and Ethan. “Well, I’ll leave you two professionals to your serious...auditing.” She turned toward the front door. “Kids! Let’s go! Uncle Mav’s in the car, and he’s in a mood until he gets his donuts.”
The house erupted in motion. The girls tumbled down the hallway in a blur of limbs and ponytails. Emma nearly passed the kitchen without a glance until Ethan called her back.
“Emma, wait.”
She paused in the doorway.
“We still need to talk about last night.”
She shrugged, avoiding looking at Honey or her dad. “Later, okay? We’re late for donuts.”
Then she was gone.
The silence that followed felt louder than the chaos had.
Honey shifted her grip on her mug. The moment from before—the look, the touch, the shared breath—it all seemed like it belonged to someone else now. Someone not in charge of an official audit.
This is an assignment. She was a professional.
“We can schedule some time this evening to go over the proposals,” she said, taking another step back. “But I need to finish the audit first.”
“I’ve got plans tonight.”
“Oh.” She nodded once, quick and neutral. “Then we can arrange a time tomorrow—”
“Or,” he said, watching her closely, “you could come with me.”
Honey hesitated. Her heart betrayed her with a single thump. But her voice came out smooth and even. “I’ll bring the file.”
Ethan gave her a look that lingered. “I’m glad you don’t mind working late.”