Page 21 of Penalties and Proposals

Noah grins. “Well, have you?”

I can’t help but to shoot him a look. “Why? Are you volunteering?”

“Just making conversation,” he says with a chuckle. “But seriously, why not answer? She might just want to chat.”

“Right, because nothing says ‘great time at a fall festival’ like a twenty-minute guilt trip about how I’m still single. Besides, she has this knack for calling at the worst times.”

Noah crosses his arms. “And being here with me qualifies as one of those ‘worst times’?”

“Well, let’s see …” I say, sighing dramatically. “I’ve got leaves and hay in my hair, I can’t see anything from the flashing of lights from the photo booth, and now I’m dealing with a nosy guy who thinks he’s funny. Yeah, pretty much.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not missing out on some important mother-daughter bonding.”

“Oh, we bond just fine. Like superglue and glitter. Which, by the way, is still stuck on my kitchen table from her last ‘crafting’ visit. That also turned into a ‘why are you single’ lecture.”

“All right, all right. I get it. No mom calls during festival fun. Message received.”

“Good,” I say, nudging him in the ribs with the pointy tip of my elbow. “Now, let’s go see if we can get a seat on that hayride before you start giving me life advice next.”

“Advice, like on your career? Wouldn’t dare. I’m in no position to give that kind of advice.”

“Good.” I chuckle. “Not with the run of luck you’ve had over the years, right?”

Beside me, I feel a wall of tension slam down between us. Like a gate over a castle moat. When I look at Noah, he looks taken aback. When I replay my words, I realize how callous they sound, considering the miles we’d crossed to this point.

Immediately apologetic, I say, “And … cue the moment I go too far.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets a second chance, right?”

After all of the playful banter and what I thought was headway made, have I really just screwed things up? I’m so good at being awkward. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

Noah forces a smile. “No, it’s fine. Really.”

I go to open my mouth, to say I’m sorry again, but another small herd of fans appears in front of us like ghosts in a paranormal show. As he turns his attention to them, my awkwardness and fragility over all of this gets the best of me. I want to go. Now.

“Maybe I should … um, go check out the cider booth. Give you some space.”

Noah stops long enough to glance my way, a look of confusion in his eyes as he searches mine. “Yeah, sure. Enjoy.”

Well, that’s gonna leave a mark. “Right. I’ll touch base later.”

“Talk to you then, Willa,” Noah says as he turns away, his jaw tense.

I walk off toward the cider booth, keeping my head held high but feeling the weight of my words and the awkwardness that now hangs between us. The lively sounds of the festival seem distant as I glance back, seeing him heading in the opposite direction.

At the cider booth, I wrap my hands around a warm cup, the fragrant steam curling up to meet my face. As I take a sip, the sweet, spicy flavor does little to distract me from the realization that hits me like a ton of bricks: I like him. I like Noah Beaumont.

It’s a startling thought, especially considering how just a fewdays ago I would not have considered us to be on speaking terms. Yet, it feels like my feelings have shifted. He’s not just the frustrating hockey player who messed up my photoshoot—and my life—anymore. He’s becoming someone I find interesting and attractive. Scratch attractive—he’shot.

Every laugh, every cheer from the crowd only seems to highlight the turmoil inside me. How is it I’ve arrived at this complicated mix of attraction and confusion? My heart races every time he looks at me, and I find myself wanting to be near him, even when everything feels so uncertain.

I glance back one more time, seeing Noah’s broad shoulders disappearing into the crowd, surrounded by adoring fans. He’s more than just a guy trying to make amends; he’s someone I might be falling for, and that realization is as thrilling as it is terrifying.

With a deep breath, I turn back to the festival, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The path ahead isn’t clear, but I can’t ignore what I’m feeling. Maybe, just maybe, it’s worth the risk to see where this could lead.

Because some things are worth fighting for, even if it means stepping out of my comfort zone and into the unknown.

CHAPTER 9

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