Page 69 of Manors & Mischief

Ember blushes some more, but I’m going to allow Mom to give her the full brunt of what every other townsperson will do as soon as we go public with our relationship. Not that everyone doesn’t already know. Chase, who works the counter at the hardware store, even mentioned it the last time I was there.

Mom shakes herself off though. Ever the mayor, she starts pelting us with questions about what we want to do with the well. Ember lets me take the lead, and I tell her everything we’d discussed when we were there.

Being at the well together solidified the fact that I’m not going to let Ember get away. If I have to pay the fine myself, I will. If I have to make Ember feel she can be safe with me in every possible way, I’ll figure it out.

My mom makes sounds of appreciation as I talk, and when I’m finished, she says, “I. Love. It. You two really do make such a good pair. Think of everything you’ve accomplished since Ember has been here. I hear the Children’s Haunted House is coming together.”

“It is,” Ember agrees. “I need to start making the curtains. I’m not much of a seamstress, but I’m sure I can do it. I just don’t have a sewing machine.”

Mom snaps her fingers. “I can help with that! There’s one in the attic, and you’re welcome to borrow it.”

“That would be fantastic,” Ember says, all smiles.

“I’ll load it in the truck when we leave.”

Mine and Ember’s gazes meet again. The rest of the dinner goes smoothly, and then Mom whisks us out the door so she can watch Jeopardy. It’s the only thing she never misses. I’ve even known her to black out her schedule so she won’t be interrupted. “Everyone needs their vices,” she’s always said to me.

My vice must be Ember. I place the sewing machine in the back of the truck and make the short drive back to the heart of Harvest Falls. Ember spots one of the historic landmark plaques just outside the square. “You know, if you want to attract visitors any other time of the year, you might want to think about renaming the town. Maybe even just for the season. Like Holiday Falls for Christmas, and something-I-can’t-think-of-now-but-it-revolves-around-love for Valentine’s Day.”

“My mom might have to watch out. It sounds like you’re coming for her job.”

“I would never, but I don’t mind passing out ideas.”

I pull up next to Sleepy Hollow Manor and park. This time, Ember waits for me as I help her out, and then I move to the back of the truck to grab the sewing machine.

“Where do you want it?” I ask as she opens the gate, and I follow her up to the porch.

“Let’s just put it in the dining room for now.”

When I enter, Ember turns on the lights as I move through the hall toward the dining room, placing the sewing machine on the grand table. Surprise flickers through me when I turn, and she’s right there. “I’m scared,” she says.

I tilt my head.

She shakes hers. “That’s why I’ve been avoiding anything super intimate. It’s not that I don’t want to because I do—I really do—but I’m just worried about what happens after. It will change things, and I don’t know how much more change I can go through. I’ve already upended my life. I’m here, trying to figure things out on my own.”

“That’s the problem,” I tell her, pulling her close. “You’re not alone. I don’t want to help you with just the house, I want to be right by your side for everything.”

“It’s scary,” she echoes again.

“Or you could look at it as an adventure. Like the tale of Devon and Ember. We can write our own story.”

“And it’ll have a happily ever after?”

“My version does.”

From day one, the pull has been a nagging obstacle. It was stupid to resist it, but it was easy when I knew why she was here. Over the weeks, we’ve only gotten closer, brought together by the house and the work we’ve done together, but we’ve slowly become intricate parts to the other’s story. I can’t imagine my life without her in it now.

“I have a confession to make,” she says, peering up at me through thick lashes. “I like it when you talk dirty.”

Relief floods through me. I’ve never been like that with anyone else, but my need for her came out like that, like a destructive torpedo, and I couldn’t take the words back once I said them.

I lift her and place her on the dining room table. “You really shouldn’t have told me that.” I part her legs and move between them. Earlier, her nipples were straining so hard, but she has a different bra on now, and it’s hard to tell what’s going on underneath it. “When’s the last time you orgasmed?” I ask, clamping her thighs around mine.

“I’m embarrassed to say.”

That answer could go two different ways, so I wait for her to tell me.

“A long time.”