Page 36 of Forbidden to Fall

“Can we make more?” Zoey asked.

“No,” I said.

Technically, we could. Maple glaze didn’t take long, but it required a few ingredients. Maple, for instance.

I pulled out my phone and tapped the call button for Maple Farm. I drummed my fingers on the counter nervously as it rang.

“My bad,” Ethan said. He really did sound apologetic, for what it was worth.

“Sadie?” James’s voice came through.

“James! Thank heaven you answered!”

“Are you okay?” His voice was tight. Urgent.

“Yes. I mean, no. But yes. I’m at the mayor’s birthday party, and we’ve had”—my gaze flicked to Ethan—“an incident. Is there any way you could bring a couple of jars of maple syrup and some butter to Town Hall?”

One bottle was plenty, but with Ethan hanging around, I wasn’t about to take any chances.

It was quiet.

“James?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Um…”

Then it hit me. James had taken pains to ensure no one in Autumn Ridge knew he was home. Coming to a building where most of the town was hanging around was unlikely to be an appetizing prospect.

“You can just pull into the parking lot, and I’ll grab it from you,” I said. “You can even wear a ski mask if you want. It’ll be like a drug drop.” My eyes flicked to the teenagers, all of whom were watching me like they might need to interrupt Officer Roy’s dinner—or get in on the illicit action themselves.

“My specialty,” James said.

I turned my face from my audience and smiled. There was something special about being witness to a playful moment with James Carver.

“I’ll be there in five,” he said.

“Meet me at the drop point.”

I heard a light chuckle before the line clicked off.

“Who was that?” Ethan asked.

“The person saving our behinds,” I said. “We’re going to need a pot on the stove. Medium-low heat. Time will be…tight.”

We plated the rest of the cheesecake while Zoey got a pot on the stove. The dinner catering team was running in and out of the room, making the kitchen a place of pure chaos. Mrs. Keller would have fainted to see the mess.

When things were well in hand, I slipped out through the side door to the parking lot just as a pair of headlights flashed and the Carvers’ truck pulled in.

I let out a rushing breath of relief.

The truck pulled into one of two free parking places, and I shuffled over in my heels as quickly as my dress-bound legs would allow.

The door opened, and James got out, wearing jeans and a Carhartt jacket.

“You don’t need to get out,” I said.

His head whipped toward me in surprise, like he hadn’t realized I was there.

I put my hands up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”