Chapter 6
SIX
TAEGEN
We’ve looped back toward the start of the new trail, and the fairy lights flicker overhead in strings of gold.
A breeze stirs the moss at our feet, whispering through the branches the way it used to when we were kids pretending dragons lived here.
I stop in the middle of the path and turn. “You really did all this in two days?”
Dylan shrugs, half-smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t sleep much. Figured if I worked fast enough, I wouldn’t think too hard about why.”
I tilt my head. “And why is that?”
He looks at me, steady and sure, and the space between us disappears.
His hands find my waist. Mine slide up the front of his shirt until my palms meet the heat of his skin through the thin cotton. The kiss that follows is inevitable—slow at first, then deeper, hungrier.
The rest of the world blurs.
When he finally pulls back, both of us breathless, he rests his forehead against mine.
“I’d ask you on a date,” he says, voice rough, “but you’ve got that look that says you’ve got a deadline.”
I laugh, still dizzy. “Guilty. My editor’s expecting the piece tonight.”
“Then go write it,” he murmurs. “But when you turn it in, call me. We’ll make it official—dinner, not interviews.”
“I’d like that.”
He walks me to the edge of the trail where the trees open into light. Before I can climb into my car, he catches my hand, pulling me back for one last, searing kiss—one that promises a thousand things neither of us has figured out yet.
“Drive safe,” he says, grinning.
“I’ll see you soon.”
The second I’m back in my apartment, reality rushes in: half-written notes, a blinking cursor, the faint scent of pine still on my clothes.
I pour all of it—his words, the farm, the magic—onto the screen. The story almost writes itself.
It already has a headline, but I have the perfect subhead.
Homegrown Magic: Carver Family Pumpkin Patch Finds New Life in the Heart of Fall.
By the time I hit save, my cheeks hurt from smiling.
I send the file to Patti and stretch, limbs heavy and warm. Ten minutes later, her name flashes on my phone.
“This,” she says, no hello as usual, “is delightful. Sentimental without being sugary. It’ll be online and on the front page tomorrow morning. Great work, Miles.”
“Front page?” My heart kicks.
“Front page. People are going to eat this up. Go celebrate—preferably somewhere photogenic.”
When we hang up, I don’t even think. My fingers already know which number to dial.
He answers on the first ring. “Hey.”
“It’s official,” I say, laughing. “Front page tomorrow. You’re about to be famous.”
“Guess that means I owe you dinner.” There’s a smile in his voice. “Come over. I’ve got two steaks and a bottle of cider calling your name.”
“Give me twenty minutes.”
When Dylan opens the door, he’s still in jeans and flannel, sleeves rolled, hair a little messy. He looks relaxed, happy, and ridiculously sexy with that forearm showing.
“Congratulations, hot-shot reporter,” he says, and pulls me inside before I can answer.
The kiss at the door steals the rest of my words. It’s deep and tender and feels like every line I just wrote—homegrown, steady, real.
Inside, the table’s set: two plates, candles that probably came from Lanie’s stash. He grins when I look around.
“I promised dinner, didn’t I?”
“You really did,” I whisper.
But even while the scent wafting from the kitchen smells delicious, it’s not what I’m craving.
Narrowing the distance between us, I slide my hands up his shoulder. He wraps his around me, curving his hands around my behind. He gazes down at me as if I’m the most important person in the world.
At the moment, I feel like I am.
He presses his lips just below my ear. Softly. Gently. Like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. He trails down my neck, and I melt.
Heaven help me, I can’t fight him or this desire pulsing between us anymore.
“Will you stay the night?” he asks.
I nod, unable to form the words even as my lips find his.
Our next kiss is like an explosion. My hands slide up and around his neck. His hand moves down to cup my ass, pulling me to him again. My body melts against him.
He’s so hard. Rock hard. His need for me every bit as strong as mine.
He presses my back against the wall, and his other hand roves up my thigh leaving goosebumps in its wake. His thumb slides under the satin of my panties and finds me. I am already wet for him. I instinctively move against him, sighing.
He pulls back suddenly. My eyes fly open as I slide down his body.
I can’t wait any longer. I tear my mouth away from him
“I need you inside of me. Now.”
My hands move down, reaching for the button of his pants. I pull out his hard length, massaging him with my hand as he groans.
“Wait,” he says. “I need a condom.”
“I’m on birth control. And I’m clean and good to go.”
Our gazes lock. There’s a trust between us. One that wouldn’t happen if either of us was doing this with a stranger or even someone we’d only recently meant.
We have a lifetime of trust between us. And we trust each other now.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I nod. He nods. “Same here.”
With one swift yank, he rips my panties aside. I gasp in excitement, and he lifts me on top of the counter, and slams into me.
I cry out, wrapping my legs around him as my body molds around his thick cock. “Oh, God.”
“You feel fucking incredible” His breath tickles my neck, sending fresh shivers down my spine.
Then he moves, pumping in and out, faster and faster.
I tighten my legs around him, urging him to move faster. With one arm, he braces himself so he can hit my G-spot from the perfect angle.
The other cups my breast, pinching my nipple and sending dueling jolts of pleasure radiating throughout my body.
Just as I am not sure I can take it anymore, that building pleasure has no choice but to explode.
He pushes in once more, shouting my name as he fills me once more, releasing himself inside of me.
Somehow, somewhere between fairy lights and deadlines, I’ve fallen for my childhood best friend—the one who builds dreams out of wood and wire and believes in enchanted forests.
And for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like a story I’m writing.
I’m living it.