Autumn's Forbidden Kiss

Chapter 1

Juliet

Never trust a man. That’s what Dad always says. He also says never trust a car made in the early two-thousands.

Unfortunately, I trusted a man and the car I bought from him with cash yesterday.

I never really understood Dad’s second piece of advice, but when a loud clank! rings in my eardrums, followed by a ping! ping! ping! beneath and behind the car, I finally learn my lesson.

I swerve off the side of the road and shift the two-thousand-one, white Pontiac Sunfire into park. Opening my door at the side of the vacant, two-lane highway, I scoot my way off the cloth seat and stand near the blue smoke pluming from the hood of the car.

I glance up and down the road for any sign of someone to help, but I already know it’s no use. This highway is never busy, which is why I took it in the first place. I abhor traffic.

The hood doesn’t come up on its own, so I root around for a lever inside the car, pulling it up before taking a look at the engine compartment like I actually know what’s wrong.

Surprisingly, I find a crack a few inches long in what I can only assume is the actual engine, like something blasted from the inside out.

I don’t know cars, but I do know sounds, and whatever shot out from beneath the Sunfire had to have been laid to rest a few yards back.

Sure enough, I find a rod on the side of the road and bring it back to the car, using my doubled-up jacket to hold the hot piece of metal.

I lean against the rusted paint of the smoking car and cross my feet at the ankles, staring down at the heavy, banana-sized hunk of steel.

After a quick picture and search online, I discover I’ve lost my piston.

“Not using oil can lead to catastrophic engine failure, which is what occurs when a piston exits through the side of the engine block.”

Welp, it’s official. My car of twenty-four-hours has been rendered even more useless than it was before. Shocking, considering the windshield wipers never turned off and I had to drive with the heat on full-blast to keep the engine from overheating—another thing my phone told me to do.

I only bought the worthless piece of junk to make it home, but apparently, the four-hour drive was too much for Little Miss Sunfire.

If Dad was here, he’d make some little joke about how I rush into everything without thinking.

“I don’t know who you get that from...” he’d tease.

I can’t wait to see him again. Six months is a long time being away from any dad, but six months without mine is an eternity. Everyone in town loves him for his charming, generous nature and handsome looks—hence why he’s mayor again.

But I love him because he helped me with my geometry homework and taught himself how to do my hair. Now, he encourages me to dream big and fly high while promising he’ll always be here for me. I’m lucky to have him—now I just need to find out how I’m going to get to him.

I peer down the long, bending road. The crisp, black highway curves over hills and through deep, green valleys, cutting through thickets of bright green trees hinting that fall is on its way.

I’ve missed the season for three years now. Boston is stunning, but nothing can compete with my hometown of Autumn Ridge.

Stupid school and the waste of time that it is, causing me to miss everything I’ve ever loved. Dad. My old friends, Luke Walker and Landrie Langford. The town. The Fall Festival.

Archer Kade.

My cheeks bloom with heat. I lower my phone, the piston completely forgotten about as the cowboy from Texas enters my mind like the Norman Conquest—quick, succinct, and fully invasive.

I haven’t seen him in a long time, but that kinda face never leaves a girl entirely. Sparkling white smile, facial features as sharp and straight as carved stone, brown hair that shines lighter in the sunshine.

He moved to Autumn Ridge six years ago, when I was a junior in high school. Pulling into town with his horse trailer and his good looks, he stole my attention and my seventeen-year-old heart.

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know me, though. He’s never even so much as lingered a glance in my direction—even though I rode his horses at Horseshoe Holler in a desperate attempt to capture his attention as a na?ve teen.

None of that matters now, though. I’m twenty-two and have had my fair share of boyfriends. Archer’s probably married by now anyway. No woman in town would let a guy like that remain single for long.

But I’m done dwelling on that old crush. I need to get this dumb car working again.

“No, a car is not drivable after the piston has been shot out.”

Dang it.

I turn off my phone and look down the road again. I could call Dad or someone else from the town, but I want my visit to stay a surprise. Looks like my only option is hoofing it to Autumn Ridge with my valuables and coming back for the rest.

I pull my backpack out of the front seat and stuff my laptop in it before hearing a faint rumbling. Straightening, I find a dark gray truck driving toward me.

This highway goes directly to Autumn Ridge. Maybe whoever is driving wouldn’t mind dropping me off at Town Hall.

I throw my backpack over my shoulder and close the car door behind me, moving quickly to the front of Miss Sunfire.

Holding out my right hand with a thumb up, I hoist it awkwardly in the air.

Is this what real hitchhikers do? I don’t want to wave my hands in the air like some desperado, but I don’t want to scare off the driver, either.

Keeping my thumb up, I wait as the truck slows, and relief fills me before Dad’s warning returns.

“Never trust a man.”

He always finished with a wink and a, “Unless it’s me.”

I brush aside his first warning. Maybe a girl is driving the truck. Or a nice, old grandpa. Anyway, Dad taught me self-defense growing up, so I’m fairly confident I can escape the clutches of a psycho if push comes to shove.

Not that psychos exist in the realm of Autumn Ridge.

I lower my thumb when I’m confident the truck is stopping, then look intently through the glass in an attempt to see who my rescuer—or attacker—is. Unfortunately, the sun’s glare shines off the windshield, and the tint of the front window is too dark to see anything beyond a shadow.

I don’t have to wait long as the window rolls down, but I do have to stand on the tips of my toes to see inside the tall truck. I put on my most approachable smile and peer through the open space.

Then I freeze.

“Hey, there,” greets the deep, smooth tone I would recognize anywhere. Dark eyes watch me from beneath a tan cowboy hat. “Need some help?”

Archer Kade.

I’m being rescued by Archer Kade.

My day just got a whole lot better.