10. Harlow
Harlow
God, this town could do with some social media.
I tried to google the farmers’ market and no opening hours showed up.
It almost pushed me to knock on Jude’s door to ask what time we were supposed to meet.
But I didn’t want to press our boundaries any further when we were barely getting along.
I would have ended up sleeping in if I hadn’t seen the framed poster propped up on Kasey’s coffee bar yesterday morning.
Because, of course, this market started bright and early.
And I was awake, worrying about spending the morning with my co-worker who didn’t even seem to like me.
We grinded together like gears in a broken machine. However, this was research for work, I could set aside my animosity to make things move without friction. Focusing on my career always seemed to make my life smoother anyway.
As I stepped out onto the porch, I let my mind run wild with ideas. Maybe I could help some of the local businesses with social media or marketing after the festival ended. But I wouldn’t be around long enough to do that. My stomach sank.
Autumn Creek was beautiful, but I didn’t fit in. This town wasn’t going to be some magical cure to discovering where I belonged. It was a nice place, but I was an outsider. I was suited for the city. And I knew from many past experiences that I’d just stick out like a sore thumb.
After my contract was done I’d be out of here.
I sighed into the cold morning air. Maybe I could just put all my ideas in a list for whoever took the job after me. That was, if Autumn Creek earned enough money to keep the marketing position open.
I locked the door to my place. It felt a little weird to call it mine.
It wasn’t like anywhere I’d lived before.
The space was slightly bigger than my dorm had been at University College London, but still not as big as the studio flat I’d left behind in Hackney.
Throughout my childhood, as I trailed along with my parents’ travels, I’d also lived in high rises in Vancouver, villas in Spain, and tropical houses in Malaysia.
But this little workers’ apartment was different.
It was cozy, homey even. But I shrugged off my brainstorming as I walked to my car, finding it sitting alone. Did it even matter what I thought of this place? It was all just temporary.
I immediately picked Jude out of the crowd of people.
He was taller than most, which helped, but they also seemed to orbit around him.
He was like the sun, as he carried boxes and helped set up other people’s stalls.
Everyone was clearly big Jude Bramley fans.
I watched him be nothing but happy and polite back to them all.
He was charming with his easy smiles and golden eyes.
For some reason, he seemed to save his glares just for me.
What have I done to piss him off?
He was chatting with a young teenage boy who was manning a stall covered in a mountain of apples as I walked over. He didn’t spot me as I closed the distance between us, busy leaning over to ruffle the kid’s short, coily hair.
“Morning,” I said, announcing myself.
“Hey, Harlow.” Jude stepped back. “This is Nash, Dawn’s grandson, he helps us out with the market.”
The table had a red gingham cloth spread over it, and baskets of apples, takeout cups with scarlet red lids, and bottles of cider covered the surface.
From behind the table, Nash shrugged with a sheepish grin. “This counts as community service credits for school, so…”
“Try not to be too enthusiastic.” Jude rolled his eyes.
“Nice to meet you.” I smiled at the boy, and then met Jude’s eyes. They looked gilded and bright, even in the mornings. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“It’s the weekend, Harlow. Relax.”
I pulled my cardigan tighter around myself and frowned back at him. “We are working.”
He nodded to Nash then turned to me. “Let’s walk then.”
I followed him through the crowd and market stalls. The smells of freshly baked goods and earthy soil from fresh produce surrounded us, perking me up a bit.
“I had some ideas on the way here, actually,” I said, trying to stay positive as I attempted to keep up with his long strides. “I was thinking, the market could benefit from some social media.”
Jude nodded as we passed by a stall selling corn and jams. “A lot of the businesses around here could.”
“We’ll have to start somewhere. We should set up an account for Autumn Creek.”
Jude paused his steps. His arm brushed against mine as he looked down and cocked his head. “What is a town going to post about?”
“Everything! Events, local businesses, notices for the community, pictures of the forest, Main Street—all of it. I mean, you told me about how pretty this would be.” I turned to look at the market, and from where we stood at the top of the street you could see it all passing by like a movie.
Wooden stalls lined both sides of Main Street with brick buildings behind them, framing the picturesque scene.
A guitarist was set up underneath one of the turning trees, in the middle of the market.
Fall produce, artisanal goods, and handmade decorations were stacked high at each table.
The market had only just started, but the Autumn Creek community was steadily rolling in wrapped in early fall sweaters and flannel, filling the street with chatter and warmth.
Jude dragged hand through his brown hair and he seemed to be lost in thought for a second before nodding. “It sounds good, Harlow. But some people aren’t going to like…” He hesitated and I watched his hand trace a trail along his face. “Commercializing the town, I guess.”
Okay, we were actually being constructive now. That got my creativity flowing through my veins. I thrived on that feeling.
“I get that. But just because it’s social media doesn’t mean we have to sell out.
As a brand…” His eyebrows shot up a bit at the word but I continued.
“The town can have its own goals. Like, we don’t have to try to turn Autumn Creek into some kind of small-town theme park.
But we could make it more accessible for people to find out what’s going on.
Maybe showcase some local businesses, some photography.
You said the town needs to raise some money with the festival, right? ”
“Right.”
“Well, it’s a balance. We don’t want to overrun the town with visitors or make it cheesy, but we could do with drawing in some more people. There’s a lot to love here.” I peered down the street again. “But I get you don’t want to ruin it.”
“I don’t think you’ll ruin it,” he said softly. “There’s just a lot of history there.”
I nodded, waiting for him to say more but he stayed silent. So I quietly replied, “I won’t.”
“Let’s do that social media stuff on Monday.”
I grinned up at him. “Great!” I almost wanted to jump forward, closing the gap between us, and wrap him in a hug.
Maybe I was touch starved, or maybe it was just that this job was the only thing I had going for me right now.
It felt so good for things to be moving smoothly.
This was exactly what I needed. What we needed.
He grabbed my hand for the briefest moment and pulled me back into the crowd.
My heart sputtered in my chest as his skin touched mine.
I’d been isolated for so long, it must have been months since someone had held my hand.
Not that you could call this hand holding.
It was practical, nothing more. Just a brush of contact.
My mind snapped back to the moment, and Jude who was pulling me forward. “Get some pictures if you want, we can post them this week.”
I followed him closely behind him through the stream of people, smiling to myself at his enthusiasm. A moment later, we stopped in front of a stall selling nothing but cookies. They looked warm, gooey, and delicious, and they filled the air with a sugary vanilla scent.
“How are you doing, Brie?” Jude asked.
Behind the layers and layers of wooden trays, covered in baked goods, sat a woman with long copper hair and eyes the colour of light brown sugar.
“Not bad, you?” she replied softly.
“Always a good day when the market’s on. This is Harlow, by the way.” He turned that dazzling smile of his to me. “You have to try Brie’s cookies.”
I gave Brie a quick greeting, but I was lost in all the baked goods surrounding me. Pumpkin spice snickerdoodles, peanut chocolate chunk, orange and oat, chai sugar cookies—so many flavours. My mouth was watering, but I managed to pull out my phone and snap a few photos in the midst of it all.
Until I felt a hand meet the small of my back, and it sent a delicious shiver down my spine. “Any preference?”
I thought I’d been almost drooling a second ago but somehow my mouth was suddenly so dry as I met Jude’s gaze. I gulped. “Nope.”
He picked out some cookies for us both, and I barely caught which ones he chose before Brie was already placing them in a craft paper box.
Unfortunately, I was still too stuck on the feeling that his large hand had left on my back to focus.
My skin buzzed at the sliver of skin he’d accidentally brushed where my cropped cardigan had ridden up.
I’d definitely been by myself for too long. One friendly nudge, and I was losing it.
Unlike Marcus, I’d been nothing but faithful, which meant I hadn’t had sex in close to a year.
On top of that, I’d also neglected to even try to make friends in London; my focus had been purely on work.
Any spare time I had was spent reading and then decorating the pages of my favourite books with drawings that couldn’t really be called artwork, but fed my creativity.
The last time I even had a hug was when I had tea with the only London woman I could really call my friend—my grandma. That was weeks ago.
I shouldn’t be thinking about Jude like this.
His deep, clear voice broke through my thoughts. “Have a good one, Brie.”
I smiled at the baker too, then trailed after him.