Page 97 of The Autumn We Fell in Love

“Autumn. And you definitely don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” she says firmly and shoves me into a folding chair, extricating the suitcase from my hand and stowing it against the wall.

I turn in my seat — and find myself face to face with a man who looks old enough to be my grandpa.

“Hi. I’m Jed,” he drawls, green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Now, don’t go getting any ideas, missy. No matter how attracted you are to me, I just don’t think it’s right for a youngin’ like you trying to get with a geezer like me.”

I stare at him for a long moment, not sure what to make of his words. Then he winks.

Jed’s joking. We’re on the same page.

I feel a smile unfurl across my face and my shoulders relax for the first time in — well, since I first set foot in New York City.

I might not walk away from this speed dating thing with a guy — that’s not exactly my priority right now, survival is. But I get the idea that I’m going to have fun.

I could use a fun night.

“I’m Autumn,” I return. Sizing up his worn jeans, cleanly buttoned plaid shirt, and leather boots, I lean my head to one side. “Are you a rancher?”

Jed nods, smile growing. “Cattle. Got a small place about thirty miles out of town.”

I lift a single eyebrow. “And are you here looking for love?”

He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, I suppose. Maybe something more like companionship, although I wouldn’t say no to passion either.”

There’s something in the hollow timbre of Jed’s voice that makes my heart lift — not in sympathy, although I feel that too, but in recognition.

Me too, it’s saying to my surprise.Me fucking too.

I drop my eyes to my lap, ordering the sudden tears welling there to retreat, and rolling Jed’s words over in my mind.

He’s lonely.

I was too, in New York. Who knew that the city that never sleeps could also feel like the loneliest place in the world? I’ve never felt so damn alone around so many people.

I suppose I still am. Lonely, I mean.

And afraid. After what happened in the city, I’m so scared — afraid to let anyone in, terrified to trust.

Because look where that got me — retreating to my parent’s basement, career in the toilet, utterly alone.

Jed leans in. “I said something wrong. I’m so sorry.”

“No,” I reply, shaking my head, swiping at the tears that refuse to go away. “You just sound —“ The words die on my lips. On a scale of one to definitely, how offended will Jed be when I call him sad and pathetic? “Never mind,” I snuffled. “I’m fine.”

“I sound lonely,” Jed says gently, ducking so he can look me in the eyes. “It’s okay to say it. I’m a lonely old man. My children are all grown, my late wife passed a few years back. A man can only find so much solace in the company of his cows.”

I snort with a giggle that catches me off-guard and, fearful that I’ve hurt Jed’s feelings, look up to see him smiling.

“I’m lonely too,” I tell him. “And I’m sorry about your wife.”

“It’s just the way of things,” he says. “I’m sorry to hear you’re lonely. Maybe you’ll meet someone tonight.” He winks again. “Besides me, that is.”

“I’m just doing Hannah a favor.” I point at the organizer as she travels the circle of chair pairs to answer questions from participants.

He shrugs. “You never know what might happen. I met my wife at a rodeo when I was barely eighteen, not looking for anything but trouble, and we married two months later. Best thing that ever happened to me, even though I wasn’t expecting to find a woman like her at a time like that.”

I’m not trying to stop the tears any longer. “I don’t think stuff like that happens anymore.”

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