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“ThisisThreeBrothers,” he said, her steps slowing on the gravel path as she took in the building before them.Itlooked like a miniature version of a mountain lodge, with its peaked roofs, wood plank walls, and intricately scalloped sign.Afirepit surrounded byAdirondackchairs sat dormant tonight, and off to the side was a pergola decked out in fall mums.Tothe left was a building that housed the brewing equipment and storage areas, and to the right was a large room reserved for tastings.Largewindows looked out onto the garden from one side, and into the adjacent forest on the other.
“Verycozy,” she said.Atleast, he was pretty sure that was what she’d said.Hewas finding it hard to concentrate on anything besides her hand in his.
Heled her to the front doors, and then, once they were inside, to the right, their steps echoing against the stone floors and soaring ceilings.Afew other patrons sat at tables in the tasting room, flights of beer or cider in front of them.
“Adam!”Colecame out from behind the bar, a towel slung over his shoulder. “Gladyou could make it!”Hisgaze drifted toHazel, and he cocked a subtle eyebrow.Thenhe extended his hand. “ColeMiller, one of the three brothers ofThreeBrothers.”
“HazelWoodward,” she said, shaking his hand while still holdingAdam’s.
“She’sstaying at the inn,” saidAdam, unsure if that semi-clarification would make things less awkward or more.
“Wellthen, welcome toGossamerFalls,” saidColesmoothly.Ofthe threeMillerbrothers, he was the one with the best people skills, which was why he was in charge of tastings, tours, and relationships with vendors and restaurants.Cameronwas quieter and ran the more administrative side of the business.AndEastonwas a grumpy bastard who wanted to be left alone with his hops and his kegs.Hewas also an award-winning brewmaster. “Letme show you to a table, andI’llbring the first flight out.Ithink you’re going to be impressed,” he added toAdam, who nodded.Hewas picky about what he brought into the inn, only wanting the best of the best.Buthe had a feelingThreeBrotherswasn’t going to disappoint.Theynever did.
Thetable he showed them to was nestled in the corner, adjacent to the fireplace and beside a window looking out on to the forest behind the property.Stringsof lights hung from the trees, glowing orange in the night.Adamswallowed, watching the way the firelight bounced off ofHazel’sskin.Herhair.Herluminous brown eyes he wanted to lose himself in.
Heheld out her chair for her, fighting down the urge to dip his head and inhale deeply.Herperfume was light, but intoxicating, smelling of oranges and flowers and something warmer, something almost woodsy.
Hemoved around the table and sat down, wondering what the everloving fuck was going on with him.Hewasn’t looking for a relationship, especially not one with a hotel guest who was on her way back to the city in less than two weeks.Hedidn’t normally get moony over women he barely knew.Womenhe’d just met.Hewas more of a slow burn kind of guy, taking the time to get to know someone and building up to physical intimacy.
ButwithHazel…he couldn’t explain it.Everythingfelt different.Asthough someone had pressed the fast forward button on his brain.Onhis heart.Mostdefinitely on his dick.Everytime he looked at her, he felt like he was sliding slowly down a cliff towards an inevitable ending.
Andhe was powerless to do anything but go along for the ride.
“Youasked me about writing,” he said, rolling up his sleeves and bracing his elbows on the table.Hewatched her eyes dip to his forearms, trace from his elbows to his wrists and back down again.Goosebumpstrailed in the wake of her gaze.
“Right,” she said, licking her lips and giving her head a small shake.Thelight caught her hair again, making it flicker and glow in the firelight.Itwas both fascinating and thrilling that he seemed to have the same effect on her as she did on him.
She’sleaving.Don’tget attached.
Thevoice seemed to whisper from somewhere in the back of his mind, but for once in his life, he wasn’t paying it any heed.
TWELVE
“WhatAutumntoldyou is true.Iused to write.Ithad always been a dream of mine to write a book, and whenIturned thirty,Idecided it was time to get serious about it,”Adamsaid.
Hazelsmiled, the corner of her lush mouth pulling up. “Thatsounds familiar.”
“Iwrote a couple of books, and they were both terrible.We’retalkingGod-awful, never see the light of day, let’s pretend they don’t exist books.”
Shelaughed. “Metoo.Ihave this horrendous historical fiction aboutJackieKennedythat was just…it was a mess.”
Henodded, something loosening in his chest. “ButthenIfigured out whatIwanted to write, and whereI’dgone wrong in the other manuscripts andIwroteTheWickedSeason.”
“What’sit about?” she asked, leaning forward, her fingers laced together, her eyes dancing with interest.
“It’sa mystery novel that takes place in a small town inNewYorksimilar toGossamerFalls.Themain character is a detective who works for the state police, and he’s dispatched to solve a murder.Thetown is full of quirky characters and hidden secrets.”
“CanIread it?” she asked, and it was like sunshine had just socked him in the chest.Justthen,Colereturned, balancing a plate of appetizers on one hand, and two cider flights on the other.Heset everything down carefully and then wiped his hands on the dish towel still over his shoulder.
“Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Ibrought you something to nibble on,” he said, indicating the large plate he’d placed at the end of the table. “Miniquiches, bacon-wrapped chicken skewers, cheddar with apple slices, and roasted cauliflower bites.”
Hazelinhaled and then bit her lip. “Itsmells amazing,” she said, andAdamrealized that the way she was looking at the food, ravenous and excited, was exactly how he wanted her looking at him.
Whatthe fuck was wrong with him?Hewas going to killAutumnfor weaseling into his head like this.
“Andthe ciders.Fromleft to right we have our pumpkin cider, our fall craft cider, which is made with pears and raspberries, our sour apple cider, our vintner’s cider, which is made with apples and pears and then aged in wine barrels, and finally, our honey cider, which is made with honey crisp apples, blueberries, and honey.Enjoy, and let me know if you have any questions.”Henodded and then returned back to the bar.
“Shouldwe go left to right?”
