Page 24 of Falling for Autumn Again

“I saw you through that window.” I point to the open pane in the small dining area just through an arched doorway. “I just came by to catch up.” Yep, that’s it.Catch up. “I didn’t realize you lived here, though.” I peer around the space again.

A small curse falls from under her breath. “I knew I needed a curtain.”

“So, what’s up?”What’s up?Not exactly my coolest line.

Abandoning her blanket altogether, Autumn drops it to the floor and sets both hands on my chest, her arms outstretched, keeping as much space between the two of us as possible while still touching me. “Get out. I’m not dressed! And we aren’t catching up!” She pushes until my back hits the slightly ajar screen door. “Go!”

I do. But I don’t go far. This is suddenly a game I don’t plan to lose. Meg told me to find out—and I plan to.

I take a seat on her porch step and wait. I have nowhere else to go.

Chapter Eleven

Autumn

“Ugh!”I groan once my door is nice and shut. I am sweaty and flushed and ready to kick something. Instead, I throw on a T-shirt and sit on my unmade bed. I breathe. I squash down any discomfort my body may be feeling and pull out my phone. I watch two videos of Harry singing to screaming girls—Harry can calm any pounding heart, even with screaming girls in the background.

I blow out another breath, shove my phone into my pocket, and head for the outdoors.

My little trees aren’t going to transplant themselves.

Whether Ezra is here or not, there are chores to be done.

He has plenty of work to do for my bistro, right? I shouldn’t have to see him—at least, not if I board up that dumb window in the dining room. Who needs sunlight anyway?

Only, Ezra’s lame russet-brown head, obnoxious broad shoulders, and stupid long legs are waiting right outside my house.

“Why are you still here?” I stomp my foot like a child not getting her way.

“I was waiting for you.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

“I do. I still need details from you on the actual building before I can begin my sketch. But I thought we could talk.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and sure, the man has grown up. That body and beard say the boy phase is over. But with his hands in his pockets like that, he reminds me of the teenage boy who made me believe that everything and anything was possible.

“Talk?” I say, eyes narrowed. Talking to Ezra Bennett sounds like a good way to bust up an already broken heart.

“Yeah. It’s been a long time. Like I said, we have a lot to catch up on.”

Is he crazy? We aren’t BFFs reunited. “No,” I say.

“No?” Ezra laughs—that’s changed too. His laughter was always so free and full of joy despite his difficult home life. But now, it’s short and clipped. “What do you mean,no?”

“I mean, I’m working and you’re here for a job. This isn’t a high school reunion. You missed that. It was in July.” I missed it too. No way would I have risked seeing him or bringing back all those memories.

I walk past him, toward the field where we have hundreds of trees lined up and planted, each row taller than the last.

“Maybe it wasn’t a planned one—but this is a reunion, that’s for sure.” He picks up his feet and follows after me.

I’m lurched to a halt as his warm hand slips into my own. Pins and needles prick through each of my fingers and up into my arm. So strange—I remember that touch well, and yet it’s as if I’m experiencing it for the first time all over again.

“You’ll have to talk to me eventually,” he says.

“Why?” I pull my hand from his and turn for the barn, my throat aching.

“I have questions about the restaurant. You can’t just—”

“Yes. Fine. We’ll talk. About the restaurant.” I drop my tense shoulders. “Leave the past in the past, Ezra. We’ve both moved on.”

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