Slamming the door in everyone’s face, I groan and glance at the mirror.
I might as well get cozy with the friend zone again, because, like hell am I breaking free looking like this.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Aulie Desfleurs
Play:Cupid by Sam Cooke
Moulton’s Apple Farm is a pillar in the Chawton Falls community. Established in the early 1700s, the original white barn and orchard is one of the oldest buildings left in our small town. The colonial structure expanded over time, with additional buildings added across its sprawling acreage to become what it is today.
A temple to all things fall.
Locals and tourists stuff their baskets with homemade bread, apple cider donuts, gourmet spreads, and fresh-cut flowers inside the year-round Farmer’s Market. While also collecting a fair amount of tea—and not just the herbal, green, or black kind.
Hushed whispers and side-eye stares angle in my direction as I slowly browse the produce aisles, waiting for Jack and his family to arrive. Apparently, I’m one of today’s hot topics.
Since my Memere passed, I’ve grown used to receiving sympathetic smiles and passing the few hushed, “Don’t you feel sorry for her? Those two were attached at the hip,” whispers. But these glances aren’t sympathetic. They’re conspiratorial, almost—they’re gleaming.
My cheeks heat from the continued attention. Whatever these people think they have on me, they’re keeping their whispers low enough that I haven’t been able to overhear anything.
Which is a first.
And annoying.
Amidst the chaos, my gaze settles on a crate overflowing with gourds, each one unique in shape, size, and texture. I have a particular weakness for the smallest of pumpkins, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I palm one in my hand, studying the orange skin from multiple angles.
“Yes, you would look cute with a tiny hat, I agree,” I muse. “Oh. How would you feel about wearing a bonnet and becoming Catherine Gourdland for Halloween?”
“Are you talking to a pumpkin…about bonnets?” An all too familiar, deep voice says with a teasing lilt.
I keep my gaze on my little pumpkin. Despite the hammering of my heart, I refuse to let Jack know that his sneak attack was successful.
“Don’t you have something better to do than sneak up on unsuspecting women in—” I look up, and my words fall short as I come face to face with a cream-colored, wool covered chest. With his cable-knit sweater, black-framed eyeglasses, and unsure look, if I hadn’t heard Jack’s voice first, I may not have recognized him.
His finger tugs on his sleeve as his attention roams in a nervous flutter over my face.
A smile slowly rakes across my face before a quick snort escapes me.
Jack’s lips press into a harsh line. “Don’t.”
“I’m sorry.” I lean in conspiratorially. “Did we—did I miss hitting my head on something, and now we’re in an alternate reality?” With a gasp, I place a hand on my heart. It should bother me I’m being silly, but flirting with him almost seems natural when he’s dressed like this. It’s like for the first time, Jack and I belong in the same world. “Wait, let me guess. I’m the city slicker girl who needs to learn a lesson about slowing down, and you’re the small-town guy who’s going to teach me about falling in love at an apple orchard?”
He crosses his arm and arches his eyebrow. A confident, challenging gleam settles in his eyes, eradicating all the nervous flitters. “Would you like me to teach you about love, Aurelie? You seem to create an awful lot of hypotheticals where we find ourselves in romantic situations. There wouldn’t be a reason for that, would there?” With his hands on either side of the crate, he leans in, his eyes fixated on my lips.
“Oh, just put the girl out of her misery and kiss her, for heaven’s sake,” a loud, shrill voice cries, reverberating off the wooden walls.
I turn my head and see thirty townspeople staring at us, their eyes curious.
Fire burns my cheeks, and I swallow down a ball of embarrassment in my throat. Jack, to his credit, seems unfazed with the heckling and attention. Although, I suppose, given his profession, he’s used to being heckled. “I’m uhm—I’m going to buy this pumpkin and grab the bags for apple picking. They’re kind of expensive, so do you want to just do one, or do you want to grab one for each kid?”
Jack’s eyes dip to my lips again, but he shakes his head. “Three sounds good, I’ll go with you to pay.”
“Where are the kids?”
“They’re over at the petting zoo. My mom is watching them.”
“Oh, your mom came?” I ask, standing in line and trying to hide my disappointment. A small part of me felt excited when Jack asked me to help with his niece and nephews, especially after the weekend we’d had. I thought it was a good sign that after all the tension on my end, he wasn’t freaked out and wanted to spend more time with me. But like most of my time with Jack, I’m just making something out of nothing. Coby and Grant are terrors, and Jack needs all hands on deck to get through the day. “That’s nice.”
