Page 13 of The Apple Cider Orchard

‘Yep, that’s a Honeycrisp – sweeter, crisper.’ He was beside her now, close enough that she could smell apples and rain and something warmer on him, like cedar. ‘Show-offs, these. Always trying to stand out from the crowd.’

‘You seem to know a lot about apple … personalities,’ she teased.

He took the fruit from her, his fingers lingering against hers a moment longer than necessary. ‘I read apples like some read tea leaves. People too, by the kind of apples they favor,’ he added mischievously.

Molly’s smile reappeared – he was unashamedly flirting now. ‘So what does this one say about me?’ she challenged, nodding at the fruit in her hand.

He studied it with exaggerated seriousness. ‘Well, now, this one tells me that you’re a woman of great character. Even though you’re tired and soaked to the bone, you’re the kind who still helps a stranger when you could’ve just apologized and hurried away.’

‘All that from a piece of fruit,’ Molly said, suddenly aware of how close they were standing, how the rain had plastered her clothes to her skin, how his eyes crinkled so attractively when he smiled. ‘You must be very good at your job.’

He winked. ‘Very good.’

Molly swallowed, suddenly finding it difficult to remember that she was drenched, jet-lagged and completely out of her element.

They continued their apple-gathering, but something had shifted. Molly found herself increasingly aware of his physicality – the breadth of his shoulders beneath the battered leather jacket, the graceful economy of his movements, the way raindrops clung to his dark eyelashes.

‘So what brings you to our neck of the woods?’ he asked then. ‘Business or pleasure?’

‘Neither, exactly,’ she replied, focusing on corralling two apples that seemed determined to roll down the slight incline of the street. ‘More … obligation.’

His eyes widened. ‘Bit ominous.’

She laughed. ‘Not really. Just long overdue.’

He nodded, accepting her vague answer without pressing further. ‘These parts have a way of making people keep their promises.’

Something in his tone made her look up then. For an instant, she glimpsed something deeper behind his easy manner – a shadow of something else. Then it was gone, his expression open once more as he straightened up.

‘You’re good at this yourself,’ he said, nodding toward the three meandering apples she’d managed to trap against a wall with her foot. ‘Ever considered a career in fruit wrangling?’

‘I missed my calling,’ Molly replied, scooping them up. ‘Currently stuck in the corporate treadmill, but I’ll add it to my resume for emergencies.’

His laugh was unexpected and genuine, transforming his face completely. The dimple reappeared, deeper this time, and she found herself wishing she could capture the sound somehow, bottle it.

‘Let me guess – big city, corner office with a view?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘You psychic too, or just showing off?’

‘Neither. You just have that look.’

‘There’s a look?’

‘Absolutely. Efficient, precise, probably terrifying in a meeting.’ His eyes traveled over her with open appreciation that should have felt inappropriate but somehow didn’t. ‘Though at the moment, more “drowned efficiency” than “corporate terror”. ’

Molly glanced down at herself – soaked, stained blouse, rain-drenched pants and sodden suede boots – with a rueful smile. ‘Not exactly the look I was going for.’

‘Working for you all the same,’ he said, his voice dropping slightly, the words landing with obvious weight.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks despite the chill air. Molly couldn’t remember the last time she’d openly flirted with a stranger – or indeed when any flirting had felt this natural, this effortless. Her previous relationships (what few there were) had been brief sparks that usually fizzled out in no time.

This … this was a goddamn bonfire.

They were down to the last few apples now. Molly spotted another nestled against the base of the fountain and moved toward it, aware of him doing the same.

‘I think this is the last one,’ she said, her voice softer than intended.

Neither moved to pick it up though. Rain pattered around them, a sound that seemed to create a private space in the otherwise empty square.