Page 5 of Manors & Mischief

She sighs. “There’s nothing in this town like that. Except you, apparently.”

Trav slides a menu in front of her. She picks it up, her lips in a definite frown now. “It’s just that I’ve been waiting a whole week to see the place.” She gestures with her hands and the menu goes with it, nearly catching one of Trav’s servers, but Ember is oblivious.

My stomach knots tighter. “A whole week, huh?” Try years. Try fucking decades. I shake my head. She sounds pretentious.

“What’s wrong with your car?” Trav asks.

The server, picking up new drinks, butts in. “Oh, something wrong with your car? Good thing Devon’s right here.”

I smile at Laurel. She’s a sweet girl. Ember, though, looks like someone rammed a rod up her backside. I’m sure she really appreciates everyone recommending me when I’m the last person who will help her.

What can I say? A small town means I’m one-of-a-kind.

“I think I’ll take your pumpkin and sausage soup.”

“You got it,” Trav says.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those fall people. The ones who drink the pumpkin spiced lattes and consume everything pumpkin for the better part of three months.”

“I also watch Halloween movies like they’re going out of style.”

Trav puts a glass of water in front of her and she smiles before bringing it to her lips and drinking. She nearly finishes all of it, then looks sheepishly at the glass before placing it back on the bar top.

“My name’s Ember.” She gives me a look. “I’m basically named after the season. Sept-ember. Nov-ember. My birthday was even earlier this month.”

Millennials. Just like I thought. Which shouldn’t bother me because I’m technically a millennial. But I’m not that kind. If I’d had a kid, I would’ve named it something sensible, like Mary.

“September is the perfect time to have a birthday in Harvest Falls. Everyone will be celebrating with you,” Trav says, making conversation.

“If she lasts that long.”

“Well, almost everyone,” my friend clarifies as Ember shoots me daggers.

I actually like fall. I don’t get into the pumpkin lattes and festivities because this is my busiest time of year. Setting up corn mazes, fixing tractors for wagon rides, repairing booths for the Fall Spectacular. It all falls under my jurisdiction. By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, I’m in need of a year-long nap.

“I’ve always loved my birthday,” she says.

I nearly gag. Everyone loves their birthday.

One of Trav’s waitstaff brings out the bowl of soup for Ember, and her eyes light up. They’re a beautiful caramel brown with hints of gold. Intoxicated by her, I watch as she takes a spoonful of the soup. Her eyes flutter closed, and she licks her lips decadently. It’s enough to make me shift in my seat uncomfortably.

She peers at Trav. “Please tell the chef this is delicious.”

“Thank you,” he says. “You just did.”

Her eyes bug out. “You made this?”

“Family recipe.”

I’m definitely not liking the way these two are smiling at each other. Like Trav hung the moon because he can dump a bunch of ingredients into a saucepan and stir. Not to take away from my best friend’s talents, but—. “So, what’s wrong with your car?” I interject.

She peers over at me, then promptly looks away. I wonder for a split second if she’s even going to answer, but then finally, she says, “I ran out of gas.” She sticks her chin in the air like it’s akin to showing her claws. “I was running late for the meeting, plus, gas stations were few and far between on the way here.”

“Well, if that’s all, you can just walk to Sleepy Hollow,” Trav offers.

“Walk?”

“You can walk anywhere in Harvest Falls within ten minutes. It’s sort of our claim to fame. You’re already halfway there.” He points up Main Street. “Last house on the left. You can’t miss it. It’s the biggest in town.”