Page 120 of Fall Fake-Out

Too fast.

Too obvious.

Ari glances over her shoulder, confusion tinting her brow.

“I think you got it.” I move to get more apples, like that’s somehow going to help the massive feelings swirling around my body.

Festival week just got a lot more complicated.

Ari

I PROMISED Landrie that after Wade and I were done at the cider press, we’d go on a hayride to the pumpkin patch with her and Jaxon.

But that was when things between Wade and me seemed normal. Somewhere at the cider press, things took an odd turn. Wade couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to stand next to me or avoid me altogether.

One minute, he was behind me, helping crank the handle. The next thing, he was halfway across the booth, pretending to organize apples as if he didn’t care about the fake-dating charade at all.

At some point, I’ve stopped being able to tell when he’s acting for the bet and when he’s being real with me. And that’s terrifying because after Andy, I can’t really trust my own intuition.

I’m probably reading things all wrong.

I need to just stop thinking about it. About Wade.

The hay wagon creaks beneath us as Archer Kade guides his team of dapple-grey draft horses down Main Street. The ex-rodeo cowboy does his best to pretend like he’s not affected by the fact that Juliet Monroe is seated beside him on the driver’s bench, but I see the way he can’t stop looking at her.

I guess Landrie knew what she was doing when she suggested—more like forced—her friend to sit up front with the town cowboy. I didn’t know how much Landrie was like my mom until I witnessed, firsthand, her matchmaking skills.

She sits across from Wade and me in the back of the wagon, leaning into Jaxon while he plays absentmindedly with her hair.

Main Street and the fall festival activities disappear behind us as we turn the corner and head for the pumpkin patch.

The entire town looks like somebody dumped a bucket of paint across Autumn Ridge. Orange, gold, and crimson trees glow with signs of fall. It’s so breathtaking I can’t believe I stayed in Florida as long as I did.

The wagon ride is packed with people from town, making the space between Wade and me virtually non-existent. Every bump in the road sends our shoulders knocking together. My thigh presses against his and stays. Another bump sends his arm against my leg. His fingers flex as if he’s unsure. For a second, I think he’ll move his hand.

He doesn’t.

Which is strange because earlier at the cider press, he acted like getting too close to me crossed a line he didn’t want to cross.

Now, every touch is confusing.

Is it for the bet, the fake scheme, or because Wade wants to be close to me?

Tough to tell.

It’s a short ride to Bugelbach’s Pumpkin Farm, where Farmer Joe has an impressive number of pumpkins strewn about the area.

Wade hops down from the wagon first, turning back for me with an outstretched hand. My fingers slip into his, letting him help me to the ground. He looks down at our joined hands, almost like he’s waiting for me to let go. When I don’t, his grip tightens around mine

Warm.

Firm.

Comfortable in a way that I’ve grown to like.

“Would you do me the honor of going through the straw maze with me?” His lips curl into one of his dangerous smiles that has become a problem for my heart.

“Sure.”