Page 32 of Forbidden to Fall

1. Walk through the woods in the dark—alone—to the stables.

2. Let James drive me home and find a way back to my car tomorrow so I didn’t have to admit my car was at Horseshoe Holler.

3. Swallow my pride and have James drive me to my car.

“Would you actually be able to drive me back to the stables?” I asked.

A beat of confusion flashed through his eyes. “Sure.”

I probably should’ve answered his unasked question, but he was too polite to ask, and I was too happy not to admit why I was making the request to offer the answer.

He helped me finish up the last bits of cleaning, then I insisted he take half of the cookies to his mom. The rest I’d pawn off on Wade. Or Ryan’s family.

The thought of Ryan made my stomach flip uncomfortably, but I ignored it. A girl had to get home.

The Carvers had a couple of older trucks and one less-old truck. James took the cookies inside and grabbed the keys to the newer one.

In the confined space of the truck cab, James’s cologne took center stage.

I spent my days inhaling warm bakery smells, so I wasn’t exactly hurting for pleasant aromas in my life. Or so I’d thought.

Suffocating in the key of James, I rolled down my window and let my arm sit over it. “So, how are you able to stay in Autumn Ridge so long? What about your job?” I didn’t even know what his job was. He could be a nomad, for all I knew.

“I’ve got a lot of time-off saved up,” he said. “And this is a season when it’s a lot of desk work anyway.”

“What do you do?” I couldn’t help myself.

“Forestry services,” he said. “Reforestation and consulting stuff.”

I frowned. “I have no idea what that means. I mean, I kind of know what reforestation is, but…what do you do?”

“Spend a lot of time with trees.”

I laughed a bit, letting my hand ride on the chill wind. “Some things never change. So, what, you plant trees?”

“For part of the year, yeah.”

I shot him a flat look.

It took him a second to glance over at me to notice it. “What?”

“You’re doing it again. Try for 2 or 3% out loud this time.”

He gave a laugh. “I’m out doing forest surveys a lot—measuring trees, sampling soil, recording data. It’s a lot of camp stoves and GPS.”

I let that sink in for a minute. It sounded half-magical, half-lonely.

“You can just drop me here,” I said as we pulled into the long drive leading to the stables.

James shot me a funny look and kept driving.

Soon, the truck headlights illuminated my car on the side of the stables.

James pressed the brakes, his brow furrowed. “Your car’s here?”

“Yep,” I said brightly as I pulled on the handle.

“Why’d you walk to the farm if you had a car?”