Page 101 of Fall With Me (Sugarland Creek)

What can I say? I’m a sucker for a cowboy with a backward hat and six-pack abs.

“Earth to Landen?” Noah snaps her fingers in my face.

I look up at her and Magnolia staring at me.

“What now?”

“If we promise not to say anything, then will you tell us?”

Are they still talking about our first date?

Standing, I put my phone away and grab my empty plate. “Nope.”

They groan dramatically, and I smirk at their desperation to know my business.

“Bye!” I say after stacking my plate in the tub.

Every time I sit in my truck, I smile to myself at the memories Ellie and I’ve made in here. The way she moaned for me and came undone on my favorite cowboy hat.

Best moment ever.

When my phone rings and I see Warren’s name, I know it’s bad news.

Chapter Twenty-Three

ELLIE

“Thanks so much for stoppin'. Enjoy your cookies!” I say for about the hundredth time.

The farmer's market on a Saturday in downtown Sugarland Creek is prime gossip season, and I've been asked about my engagement approximately fifty million times. There's no point in denying it when there's an article coming out confirming it.

After the first hour, Gramma Grace handed me a ring.

“Wear this,” she demanded.

“Are you sure?” It looked too delicate and special to just wear it around casually.

When I slid it on my finger and it fit perfectly, she winked. “It was made for you.”

I nearly burst into tears right then.

I wasn't just falling hard for Landen, I was falling for his entire family.

We could set the record straight, but I don't need any more attention on me, especially the negative attention that'd come with speculations.

It's hard not to get emotional about the what-ifs when it comes to my career and wondering how I'll make a comebacknext year. I'm ready to get back on Ranger and work again. I'm grateful that Noah's continued to train him and has kept to his routine.

Twenty minutes from the market closing, a woman approaches and there's a familiarity there, but I can't place her. She listens as I explain what's left over—which isn't much—and then she holds up a recording device.

“I'm a journalist from The Creek Chronicles and?—”

“Oh, sorry. I'm not doing press right now. You can email me and we can set up a time if?—”

She shoves the recorder closer toward me, and I flinch. “Did you want to comment on the early release of?—”

“Respectfully, ma'am…” Gramma Grace interrupts with the most stern tone I've ever heard come from her. “Miss Donovan isn't doing interviews right now, but if you'd like to purchase something, I'd love to help you.”

She lowers the device and frowns. “Fine. I'll just sayno commentthen.”

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