12. Devon #2
She nearly takes my breath away. A forest green sweater boasting an oversized turtleneck paired with a pair of jeans and a brown boot.
Two simple rings grace her right hand, glinting when she walks.
Her hair lies in loose waves to her shoulders.
She’ll be better dressed than three quarters of the people there. Maybe all of the people there.
She waves and takes the steps down to meet me.
The eagerness wafting off her is something else.
It nearly makes me smile. Nearly. If it weren’t for the nagging feeling tugging at my belly, I could.
Something that says she’s different. Not another tourist, and yet, not another woman who grew up in this town alongside me, where we know each other’s business all the way back to grade school.
I peer down at my work jeans. At least these don’t have holes in them, but there are paint splotches and I’m pretty sure there’s a hole in my shirt somewhere. I snagged it on an errant nail on the porch.
“Are you taking me to this farmer’s market or what?” she asks, eyes gleaming, which I know has nothing to do with me and everything to do with cider.
She doesn’t give me a once-over. She just stares into my eyes expectantly. “Let’s do it,” I tell her. Screw what I’m wearing.
I start to walk away, but she stops me. “I’m warning you, though, Devon Lachey. If you turn on that attitude again, I’m out.”
“I’ll behave,” I tell her. “You just inspire the crabbier side of me.”
She narrows her gaze, but it isn’t judgmental like I expected. It’s something completely different.
We turn down the sidewalk. From here, we can just see the faint outlines of the booths I’d fixed set up in the square alongside the autumn decorations that have been going up.
Mom hasn’t been on my case about helping with setup, so either nothing needed done, or she’s perfectly okay with me spending time at Sleepy Hollow Manor. Probably the latter.
I push that thought aside and instead focus on getting Ember to the Harvest Falls Orchard booth because if she’s never had real cider before, this is going to blow her mind.
“So, what did you do before coming here?” I find myself asking. It’s as if the question just flows naturally, taking me by surprise.
It takes her by surprise, too. She peers over at me warily before looking away. At first, I don’t think she’s going to answer, but then she says, “I worked for my dad’s accounting company.”
“Accounting, really?” I picture her in business wear. A black pencil skirt maybe with mix-and-match button-up shirts. It doesn’t suit her. Not in my eyes.
But it does clear up one thing: How she was able to buy the manor.
“I see,” I say to no one in particular. Maybe just to me.
“See what?”
She’s got that tone in her voice again. The one that tells me she already knows she’s not going to like what I’m about to say. “Just things clicking together is all.”
“Things?” she asks, her voice peppered with attitude.
All of this is like foreplay, even when it shouldn’t be. “You know,” I answer, distracted.
She stops on the sidewalk. “I certainly don’t know.”
After walking a couple paces ahead, I turn back.
God, she’s a picture of perfection, like she’s walked straight out of my fantasies.
It’s getting hard to temper the voices in my head.
The ones that say us getting together is inevitable like everyone else thinks it is, even if it is just for a fun romp.
“Don’t just look at me like that,” she says, less certain. Her cheeks are going flush. “What did you mean by that?”
I take a step closer, and she mirrors me, taking a step further away. “I just meant that I’ve been wondering how you afforded the place. That’s all.”
“Oh, that’s all?”
I nod.
“And you think it’s because I worked for my dad?”
I shrug.
She shakes her head, and immediately starts walking, brushing past me. “The real story is better. It’s a shame you didn’t ask instead of assuming.”
She keeps walking. Every step she takes shocks me, even though I realize I shouldn’t be at this point. She keeps doing things I don’t expect. “So, what is the real story?” I call out.
She spins on her heel, taking in the distance between us with just the faintest of raised brows. I walk toward her, drawn like a moth to a flame. She turns up her chin, like normal. “I won the lottery, actually.”
“But you said—.”
“I won $250k on a scratch off. After taxes, I had just enough money to buy the house with a little left over.” She pulls her purse tight against her. “In case you’re wondering, yes, my dad is furious with me. He thinks I should have invested it. But I see the manor as my investment.”
Her words are like a kick in the gut. Everything I assumed about her is wrong.
Instead, she’s brave? Foolish, probably.
But strong, fearless. I’m proud of her, even though I have no right to be.
It’s the kind of shit I would do. Risk it all on that one thing, especially when that one thing is Sleepy Hollow Manor.
“Judging by your face, I can see you thought my daddy bought it for me.”
“Actually, I was thinking that all the manor needed was someone to take a chance on her. I’m glad you did.”
This stops her in her tracks. Her gaze roams down my body and back up, and I can’t help but wonder if she noticed the paint on my pants, or the rip in my shirt. Maybe it’s to keep her from seeing me, but I close the distance between us in quick strides. “I’m sorry.”
She blinks, disbelief flitting through her. “What for? I can think of a lot of things.”
“I’m sorry I misjudged you. Does that encompass everything?”
“Not really, but I’ll take it. For now.”
Damn my mom, Trav, and Bea for putting thoughts in my head. I already had my own attraction to her, but now I can’t stop thinking that maybe we are a good fit, if I could pull my head out of my ass.
“Are we okay?” I ask.
“We’re okay for now as long as you get me to the farmer’s market. I want that cider.”
The chilled air between us douses me in reality since I was thinking of wanting something completely different. “Cider, huh?”
“It would be perfectly refreshing right about now. It’ll really hit the spot.”
Her choice of words isn’t lost on me. Teasing. Baiting. She has me on the line, and she knows it. The question is, what am I going to do about it?
Before I can make a decision, she turns on her heel and starts walking toward town. “Are you coming?” she calls out over her shoulder.