Page 6 of Fall is Brewing

“Oh no,” I squeak.

It’s my first night off of orchard duty early enough in weeks to eat dinner in public, and here I am, getting blindsided by Brooks Calder and his entire male model brew-master entourage.

He reaches us, stopping at the edge of the booth like he belongs there. Like he’s always belonged there even though he only just moved to town a little over a year ago.

“Willa Hartley,” he says, voice warm and annoyingly pleasant. “Didn’t expect to see you out.”

I arch a brow. “In my own town?”

“Well, you’re usually stuck in your orchard.”

Up close, he’s even worse. The kind of handsome that feels unfair when paired with that kind of ease.

His eyes do a quick sweep—boots to jacket to face—like he’s taking inventory. The awareness snaps tight between us, sharp and unexpected. The kind of attention that makes you hyperaware of your own body and how it’s positioned and whether your hair still smells like apples.

I don’t like that my pulse reacts.

Actually, I hate it. I hate that my pulse reacts at all.

“These are my friends,” I say, mostly because I can’t think of anything better and because I refuse to be the only one who feels off-kilter right now.

Brooks’s gaze flicks to Lena and June with an easy politeness that makes me want to throw something. “Brooks,” he says, offering his hand to June first. “Nice to meet you.”

June shakes it, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “June.”

“Lena,” Lena says, shaking his hand too.

Brooks’s brothers hang back, grinning like this is entertaining. One has lighter hair and a mischievous face. The other looks older, calmer—like he’s the one who breaks up fights and pays the bills.

June, traitor that she is, immediately goes friendly. “You’re the Calders. Like Calder Cider.”

Brooks nods. “Guilty.”

“And you’re entering the contest again this year?” Lena says. The words hit my spine like a cold splash.

I whip my head to her. “Lena.”

“What?” she says innocently. “It’s just a question.”

Brooks’s smile deepens. “That’s right. Planning to take that blue ribbon this year, if I do say so.” Then, he has the nerve to send me a cocky wink.

“If I do say so,” I murmur quietly, mocking his light southern drawl as I take a sip of my drink.

He tilts his head. “What’s that?” he asks even though I’m pretty sure he heard me.

“Good luck,” I manage instead.

One of his brothers snorts. Brooks glances back like he’s warning him to behave.

“Willa, I know you and I have met before, but have you met my brothers?” Brooks asks.

I shake my head and stick out my hand. “I don’t believe so.”

“This is Evan, my older brother,” he says, then shifts to point to his left. “And this is Jace… the baby of the family.”

“So you’re the Willa Hartley,” Jace says, like he’s just put together a puzzle he’s been enjoying far too much. “Ohhh. This makes sense now.”

I glare at him. “What makes sense?”