Page 13 of Fall Into Love

I glare at him.

“Don’t give me the face.” He huffs. “The whole town knows you have the hots for Miss Emma Jones. Did you know she came through my lobby last week, in the middle of the night, absolutely devastated, and didn’t pick up her loaf of apple cinnamon bread? And now I hear you’ve been taking the long way past Marigold’s this week. Why is that?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Is it? Because I think it’s the least complicated thing in the world.” He gets to his feet, gathers his flyers, and tucks them under his arm. “You like her. She likes you—and yes, she does. Don’t argue with a man my age. And the only thing standing in the way is that you’d sooner sit in an empty office than let one person see the fella underneath who is just as deserving of love as the one this town already does. Take it from a man who’s been alone a long time. That empty house won’t get filled unless you do something about it.”

My throat goes tight. “I hurt her, Danny. Twice. Every time I open my mouth, I make it worse.”

“So quit talking and show up,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And hell, maybe it is. “You were never the fella who’s good with words. You’re the one who comes running.” He raps his knuckles on my desk. “So run.”

He’s at the door before I can answer. He pauses with one hand on the frame and delivers the last of it with the studied casualness of a man who’s been building to it the whole conversation. “Funny thing. I walked past Marigold’s on my way over. Her lights were still on. Working too late again, that one. All by her lonesome in there.” He hums. “Somebody ought to go keep her company.”

He leaves, and I’m left alone in my office with my heart running like a two-stroke engine as I risk a glance out the large window beside my desk. The sleeping town now sits between me and a lit-up shop where a woman I’m gone for is working all alone.

Eight days without her…

That’s eight days too many.

I move—keys in my fist, lamp snapping off behind me. It’s now or never, Foster.

And I’m choosing now.

After Hours

Caleb

The lights are still on at Marigold’s, just like Danny said they were.

I stand on the sidewalk for a second with my heart hammering and the October cold biting through my T-shirt. In my haste, I forgot my jacket, and now I’m stuck out here in one of my favorite gag shirts that has a picture of a seagull wearing sunglasses that says IMMA STEAL YO FRIES.

Meanwhile, Emma is moving around inside with her long, red hair loose and straight, wearing an emerald long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves shoved up, and tight jeans that make her ass pop. Wow, I am a fuckin’ peepin’ Tom right now. She has a clipboard in one hand, and there’s new, folded stock stacked on every surface surrounding her, alongside empty boxes scattered across the floor.

Beautiful and tired and alone.

For once in my life, I don’t stall. I don’t rehearse. I move.

You’re the one who comes running, Danny said. So run.

I knock on the front door.

She looks up, startled, and goes very still when she sees me through the glass. For a long moment, neither of us moves. Then she crosses to the door, I hear the new deadbolt turn, and she opens it just enough to stand in the gap, the warm light of the shop at her back.

“Caleb? Is everything all right?”

Here goes nothing.

“I know it’s late, and I know it’s been eight days, and I know I don’t get to just show up here and tell you how I feel.” My breath fogs between us. “But if I stand out here hunting for the right thing to say, I’ll talk myself out of this. So I’m going to say it plain, and you can throw me out after.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t shut the door, either.

“That night. When we kissed…” I drag a hand through my hair. “It was everything. And I let you believe I didn’t want you. But the thing is, I’ve wanted you since the moment I met you. Baby, I want you so much it scares the hell out of me. It was never that I felt too little. It’s that I felt too much, and I’d already said the wrong thing once that morning, and I got it in my thick head that if I let you feel the full weight of what I feel for you, I’d wreck it. So I took a step back.” My voice goes rough. “Danny sat me down in my own office tonight, and well…he was right. Everybody in this town knows Mayor Caleb. Not one of them knows me.” I make myself hold her eyes. “Except you.”

Her eyes are shining now. “That’s a lot,” she says quietly, “to say after eight days without a hello.”

“I know it is.”

“You kissed me and made me want things. You made me want you, and then you disappeared.” Her voice shakes. “So, no. You don’t get to show up and be forgiven just because you finally found the right words. I need to know you mean it. I need to know you’re not going to kiss me and vanish the next time it gets real.”