Page 66 of Fall is Brewing

I ignore him.

The first drop of rain hits the back of my neck just as Willa climbs onto the flatbed to help stack the last crate. She turns her face toward the sky, and another drop lands on her cheek, then another. Her lashes flutter. Her mouth curves, not quite a smile, not quite surrender.

For a second she looks happy. Not polite. Not triumphant. Not guarded.

Happy.

Then the sky opens.

Rain spills over the orchard in a sudden silver sheet, soaking leaves and grass and us in seconds. Jace swears. Evan yells something about the tarps. I grab the last crate as Willa reaches for the edge of the flatbed, boots slipping on wet wood.

This time when I catch her, she lands against me.

Full contact.

Chest to chest.

Her hands clutch my shoulders, mine bracket her waist, and rain runs down her temple and along the line of her jaw. She’s laughing, breathless, startled… alive. The sound goes through me like heat.

“You keep falling into me.”

“Because your entire orchard is unsafe,” she retorts, blinking against the rain hitting her lashes.

“Occupational hazard.” My grip tightens without permission.

Her laughter fades as the rain beats around us, loud enough to turn the rest of the world distant. Water darkens her sweater, beads on her lower lip, and I am suddenly, painfully aware of how easy it would be to lean down. How little space there is between want and doing something reckless.

Her eyes hold mine. Wide, bright. Maybe even waiting.

“Brooks!” Evan shouts from somewhere behind us. “Equipment shed. Now.”

The spell snaps, but not cleanly.

Willa steps back, breathing fast. I let her go because I have to, not because I want to.

She tucks wet hair behind her ear and looks toward the shed, then back at me. “Guess the forecast wasn’t the only thing that lied.”

I swallow, still feeling the shape of her beneath my hands. “What else lied?”

Her eyes flick to my mouth. Then away. “My ability to stay out of trouble.”

She jumps down from the flatbed and runs toward the shed through the rain, boots splashing through mud, shoulders shaking with laughter.

I stand there half a second too long, rain soaking through my flannel, watching her go.

The storm rolls overhead, deep and sudden, turning the orchard wild around us.

And all I can think is that the real danger isn’t the weather.

It’s that I almost kissed Willa Hartley in the middle of it.

CHAPTER 14

Brooks

For one suspended heartbeat, neither of us moves.

Rain pours around us in shimmering silver sheets, bouncing off the flatbed, soaking through my flannel until it clings heavily to my shoulders. Water runs down the bridge of Willa's nose before slipping from the tip like a crystal bead, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the absurdity of wanting to brush it away.