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Second Chance for the Grump

Page 15

by Wanda Amard

“I want to believe you.”

“Maisey,” he said my name like it should be illegal as he leaned in closer.

A gust of cool October wind swept up my red hair, sending the scent of popcorn around us. His hand lifted, giving me every chance to stop him.

But I didn’t. Instead, I leaned into it.

His palm settled against my cheek, and then his lips found mine.

I didn’t back away. I pressed into him, making this kiss both ours. We started softly, for maybe half a second. Then the tension of the last two years snapped between us. My fingers tangled in his flannel as he deepened the kiss. I whimpered against his mouth as he wrapped his arm around my middle and pulled me to him.

Good Lord, I remembered this. The way he made me feel protected. Like I was the only person in the world.

Someone to our left clapped. “Get her, cowboy!”

We pulled apart, and my cheeks flamed red.

6

ROWAN

Amiddle-aged man, holding a mostly melted ice cream cone and pushing a stroller with his free hand, almost hit me as he walked by. “Sorry.”

I gave him a silent chin jerk in acceptance. I hated crowds. People. Noise.

Basically, everything that was the Maple Lane Falls’ fall festival.

People here were too friendly. It made me suspicious.

It’s like they gathered every person in the county into the town square at the same time. Then they added pumpkins, tractors, food, and games. It was a disaster waiting to happen.

And somehow, every single person in town seemed determined to stop and talk to Maisey.

While she chatted with everyone and their cousin, the leftover tried to sell me things. Kettle corn, homemade birdhouses, specialty bars of soap.

I stood beside her booth with my arms crossed and watched the crowd.

Not because I cared about pumpkins or soap, but because something felt wrong. I mean, something was wrong with the entire event, but in the last five minutes the mood changed, and it felt wrong for different reasons. Our kiss shifted something, and I’d never forgive the man who interrupted us.

But now something was off.

I couldn’t explain it.

But I noticed it.

That’s what years in the military did to my nervous system. And now, if I had a feeling, I trusted it.

The feeling grew until it prickled the back of my neck.

Maisey laughed as she grabbed an elderly woman’s arm after she must have said something funny. What could be funny about homemade candles?

Her laugh hit me right in the chest.

Fuck, I was in trouble with this woman. Our kiss changed everything.

I spent two years thinking about Maisey. While in bed, chopping wood, reading a book. It seemed like she was right there in Alaska with me, even when she wasn’t. Now that I was here again, with her, I swore it was my second chance. I couldn’t go back to Alaska without her this time.

But how did I talk her into leaving this?