Page 33 of Forbidden to Fall

He had me there. I had no good response, and trying to come up with one was bound to end badly.

“Now who’s holding back?”

I grimaced, but he was right. I’d asked for his honesty, but I wasn’t offering him the same. “I just…find it difficult to navigate things with you.” My heart thumped at my own words.

James nodded. “Does Ryan know you’re working at the farm?”

“He does.”

Even in the dark, I could see the surprise in his gaze. Not just surprise, though. Hope.

“He doesn’t know about you yet.”

The hope went out like a dead lightbulb. “Right.”

It was quiet for a few seconds.

“I’ll be back at the sugar shack tomorrow to work on the boring cookies,” I said.

James’s eyes narrowed. “You asked for honesty and now you’re punishing me with it.”

“It’s not punishing,” I said as I got out of the car and faced him. “It’s teasing. Tomorrow’s cookies are going to knock your socks off, James Carver.”

He smiled. A genuine, unrestrained smile. No teeth, but still…it was more than I’d seen in…well, years. “Maple pickle cookies it is.”

I laughed, shut the door, then waved.

He waited until I’d gotten into my car before making a U-turn in the lot and heading out.

James was a thoughtful guy. So much about him confused me, not least of which was the hope in his eyes for those few seconds when he’d thought Ryan knew I was working with him—when he’d thought maybe Ryan didn’t hate him anymore.

But Ryan’s anger at James had reached cruising altitude eight years ago and had never deviated since.

“What about this one?” Mom pulled a deep blue dress out of her closet and held up the hanger. It was a one-shoulder piece with a flutter cap that matched a swath of draped fabric at one hip. When she shifted it, it sparkled subtly.

Preparing the dessert for the mayor’s party had been a more intense process than I’d expected, which meant I’d had no time to stop at the thrift store for other options. I hadn’t even had time to tweak my cookie recipe at the sugar shack like I’d planned to do.

I’d already taken everything to Town Hall, and now I had an hour and a half before the party started.

“When’d you get that?” I asked. I’d never seen the dress before.

“Oh, about…thirty years ago?” Smiling, Mom brought it over, pulling it from the hanger. “Thankfully, the ‘90s are cool again, right? This will look great with your hair. Archer will love it.” She winked as she handed it to me.

I shot her a look and stepped into the closet to try on the dress. “We’ve been over this. So many times. Archer and I have no interest in each other.”

“And yet, you’re going on a date.”

I pulled off my jeans. “I’m forcing him to socialize—and there’s someone he’s interested in that’ll be there.”

Mom made a disappointed noise. So far, Ryan was the only one of her kids who’d successfully fled the coop and given her a grandchild.

I stepped out of the closet, tugging at the tight fabric around my hips. “You were a lot skinnier than I am.”

She didn’t even respond. She just smiled and looked me up and down. “It’s perfect.”

I wouldn’t go quite that far. Nineties fashion might have made a comeback—I wasn’t really the one to ask about fashion—but this dress had a distinctively vintage vibe to it. The sparkle detail wasn’t totally intact, and the elastic-y fabric was a bit too elastic-y in places where it had started to break down. Mom must’ve worn it a lot. Like, a lot.

But short of wearing Levis or my bakery apron, it was all I had.