Page 91 of Fall is Brewing

His voice startles a laugh out of me. "You counted?"

"I estimated." He finally turns with a small smile. A careful smile. Like he's afraid too much happiness might scare me away. "What is it?" he asks.

I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

Because I'd planned to be witty. I'd planned to make a joke.

Instead… "Are we just... not going to talk about it?"

His expression softens instantly. "Our kiss?"

Heat rushes into my cheeks, but I force myself to nod. "Unless you kissed some other woman last night. In which case… we definitely need to talk about that.”

A quiet laugh escapes him and he shakes his head. "Just one woman. Though I was hoping there would be more where that came from with her.”

My heart does the most embarrassing little somersault.

He sets the clipboard down but neither of us moves. "We probably should talk about it," he says.

"We probably should."

Another beat passes. "So..." I fold my arms, more for something to do than because I'm cold. "Was it real?"

His forehead creases. "Willa..."

Heat burns in my cheeks. "I know how ridiculous that sounds."

He takes one slow step toward me. "It sounds like someone who's trying very hard not to get hurt."

The words steal every clever response I'd been clinging to. "I keep wondering if I imagined half of yesterday," I admit.

"You didn't."

"You didn't wake up this morning wishing it hadn't happened?"

He closes the remaining distance between us until only inches remain. "No." The answer is as certain as it is immediate. "I woke up wishing Marcy had shown up about five minutes later."

I laugh before I can stop myself. "So did I."

Silence settles around us again. His eyes hold mine with a steadiness that makes my chest ache. "I've spent weeks trying not to fall for you,” he says.

I don't realize I've reached for his hand until my fingers find his. They're warm. Familiar even though they shouldn’t be.

When his thumb brushes lightly across my knuckles, goosebumps lift on my arms, racing over my skin. "I don't know how this works," I confess. "We own competing orchards."

"I know."

"Our booths are literally across from each other."

"I noticed."

“We’re in a legal battle over land,” I sigh.

“I’m aware,” he says.

"My grandfather already thinks you're trying to steal our customers."

A grin tugs at his mouth. "I'm beginning to think your grandfather believes I steal everything."