Page 93 of Fall for You
He lifted her over an old windowsill and she hopped out, stumbling in her heels before finding her balance.
His journey out was far more graceful, and she couldn’t help admiring the way he moved. If she was half wood sprite, he was half cheetah—sleek and calm, smooth, and the epitome of cool.
Without meaning to, her eyes lingered over him before he caught her staring. His head tipped, his lips rising into a slow smirk as he arched his brow.
She flushed and spun away, nearly breaking her ankle yet again.
Stupid heels. Where were her hiking boots when she needed them? Carefully walking to a nearby rock, she found a perch on the icy surface and failed to hide her shudder. It was freezing!
Striding over with a sigh, Eric shed his winter coat, then tugged on her arm, pulling her up before sacrificing his clothes as a blanket and wrapping the fabric around her when she sat back down. It would have been romantic if he wasn’t glaring at her while he did it.
She smiled up at him. “Ready?”
His lips twitched, and that glare…
She swallowed hard. Maybe it wasn’t so much anger as just…heat. A heat she wasn’t sure she could name.
She found her eyes dipping down, an uncharacteristic shyness stealing over her as he made himself comfortable beside her.
Her insides jittered, and she had no idea if it was because of the way Eric nestled his body so close that she could feel his heat through her coat…or if the tin box on her lap was causing her heightened levels of excitement.
It had to be the tin, right?
She let out a giddy little giggle as she wrestled the lid off.
And then the air in her lungs evaporated, stealing her laughter right along with it.
The letters.
She was right.
She’d found them.
Eric leaned over her shoulder and whispered against her cheek, “Wow.”
She nodded, her tone reverent as she touched the faded old paper that lay on top. “Charlie’s letters to Rose.”
He gently lifted the top letter, unfolding it with delicate care and holding it out for both of them to read. Only two sentences in, Willow gasped.
This was it. The first letter. The one that Rose had responded to.
To the sweetest Rose I’ve ever known,
I hope you don’t mind me writing to you. I know we’re not supposed to speak, but when I saw you between the tree trunks the other day, I was captured. I heard your voice before anything else. It was sweeter than a nightingale’s. It rose through the forest, carried by a soft breeze and straight into my heart.
I had to see who owned this voice, and so I crept through the forest, hiding behind the trees until I saw you. The smile on your face was beautiful. You looked so happy, so carefree. I’d never seen you that way before, Rosemary Spencer. I’ve always thought you beautiful—an untouchable porcelain doll. But that day in the woods, you were radiant beauty. Your arms stretched wide, your voice rising in the air.
“Someone to Watch Over Me”—you brought the tune to life.
I’ll be your watchman, sweet Rose.
I’ll watch over you for the rest of my life if you’ll let me.
I know I shouldn’t be writing words so bold. I know anything between us is forbidden. I can’t be seen liking a Spencer, now can I?
But you… you are something special. And I might just have to break every rule in the book for you.
Thank you for talking to me when you caught me watching you.
