Jace
By having you for dessert.
Willow
Tonight?
Jace
I guess you’ll have to wait to find out.
Willow
You don’t play fair, Miller.
Jace
Neither do you, baby.
I’ll come by later this evening.
Willow
This isn’t up for debate, is it?
Jace
Nope. See you then.
Ignoring the fluttering in my stomach, I lock my screen and drop it into the center console, knowing I’m flirting with disaster here. I can’t let my feelings get involved. This can only ever be physical with her. Willow will be leaving again to finish her degree and I won’t be the one who holds her back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
WILLOW
Taking a step back from the wall, I spin around, my eyes slowly taking in the current appearance of the shop. Everything looks exactly how I envisioned it. After I get all the merchandise on this wall, I just need to meet with Miss Maggie about making some different baked goods, then just some small finishing touches and we’re ready to go for Harvest Fest.
This area isn’t as well known for maple farms, but it’s been a tradition that was started years ago when there were more sugar makers. The festival is always held before the new year, before the farms start to get ready for tapping season. As of right now, we’re the biggest seller of syrups in Sugar Hill Hollow, although there’s one other farm that remains our main competitor.
Prescott’s Sugar House.
I haven’t heard what their plans are for Harvest Fest and I can only hope that our store out shines the one they have on their property. They never opened one in town and tend to draw in more people who want to see the process of how syrup is made.
Regardless of what they’re doing, I know this has to be successful.
Otherwise, I might as well just pack my bags and get the hell out of this town.
The boxes I bring over to the wall have shirts and mugs packed inside. There was a company I found from the next town over that was able to get the order filled within two days. I pull a few out and find a home for each of them on the new shelves. There’s only one box left when the bell above the front door dings.
I know exactly who it is without even having to look.
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I didn’t get a chance to make dinner.”
My heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice and I take a second to silently scold the betraying organ inside my chest.
Lifting my gaze away from the final box of shirts, I look over my shoulder at Jace. “Hey,” I say, offering him a smile. “That’s okay. I told you that you didn’t have to worry about dinner.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “If someone doesn’t worry about feeding you, you’ll starve.”
