Page 73 of A Wolfe in the Woods

Something in the air shifted. Her hand lingered for a moment. My own rose instinctively to her waist, steadying her as she leaned close. Our eyes locked, and this time neither of us looked away. We closed the distance between us slowly, silently. I stared at the flour dusted across her cheek and lashes, giving her the look of a stone angel left to weather, fragile but eternal. She was strangely beautiful at this moment, and we just stayed there. Then whatever space that had existed between us fell, until our mouths found each other—soft, unplanned, but charged. And we kissed.

Her mouth was softer than I’d imagined…warm, tasting faintly of sugar and spice from the berries we’d tried earlier. Since I met her, I’d told myself I was imagining it, the pull between us. But the instant our lips met, every denial fractured. The anticipation that had gnawed at me broke open into something hungrier, deeper. A rush hit my mind and blood—not just want butrecognition, like some part of me had been waiting for this without admitting it. It was a hunger that lived in both halves of me, starved for her and finally sated in that single sealed kiss. For a heartbeat, I let myself fall into it. Into her.

The moment barely had time to deepen before the pot hissed sharply behind us. The filling bubbled over, spitting and smoking where it hit the stove’s hot iron. Moonshade berries were volatile—too much heat, wrong timing, and they soured quickly. We broke apart, coughing, waving smoke out of our faces.

“Damn!” she muttered as I yanked the pot off. The smell was acrid and bitter.

The front door creaked open, and there was May, arms folded, frowning like she already knew. “My life is full of right timings for all the wrong moments,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose at the smoke.

Blanche groaned, burying her face in her hands. I carried the ruined mess outside, dumping it far past some hedges way off to a side. May called after us, “Maybe we ought to patent that concoction. Sell it as a deterrent—keep critters away for days.”

Blanche looked defeated with her pink-stung lips. “Now what?” she muttered.

May clucked her tongue. “Oh, toughen up, girl. That’s criticism of the filling, not of you personally. That’s the problem with folks nowadays—bruise too easy. Look at it this way: It can only get better from here. Unless”—she eyed the smoldering stove—“you burn the cabin down. That would be worse.”

Blanche finally cracked a smile, shoulders loosening. “Even with my grandma’s recipe book, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Perfect pie takes time,” May said, matter-of-fact. “Like all things.”

I leaned against the counter. “Problem is it’s not the season yet. Berries are tart right now. Won’t be ready for another few months.”

Blanche looked between us. “Well, is there anywhere else we can find berries? To practice baking with?”

Then an idea hit me, and I straightened. “Up for an adventure?”

Her lips curved. She looked shy in the aftermath of our kiss—her cheeks and lips, still flushed, were a quiet reminder of it. “What kind of adventure?”

“The fun kind. There’s a patch I haven’t picked since last season. A bit far, but there should be plenty.”

May grinned. “Sounds promisin’. Go t’morra. That’ll give me time to clean up this mess.”

CHAPTER 20

BLANCHETTE

We set out later than planned. Apparently inspectors from the forest service and a surveyor had shown up late that morning, all apologies and clipboards. Jonathan could’ve pushed it off, but there were details he said needed to be handled face to face. He mentioned that his father used to always say,You don’t know the kind of deal you’ve made until you’ve looked a man in the eyes.Somewhere along the way, I guess that trait stuck to him too.

By the time Jonathan circled back, May had me laughing over brunch. Later, I slipped into the lake again. Even though it wasn’t the Aurealian Sea, being in the water felt like something I’d lost, returned to me.

Still, I could tell Jonathan hurried through his morning tasks…permits, signatures, walking the property lines, because he didn’t want my time at the Hollow eaten alive by his daily obligations. Too much of that already filled his life. With luck, he was trying to keep it from spilling over into mine. At least for this weekend.

I’d asked him why I never saw anyone around. Since I’d been on the grounds, I hadn’t seen any other guests at the B&B. He’d admitted it was intentional, so that he could focus on me without distractions or responsibilities pulling him away, like so often happened. Hearing that confession, I had to admit that it made my belly flutter in delight…and maybe something that resembled fear. Fear because he was making it all too easy to catch feelings for him.

I’d caught sight of him while I’d been in the lake. He’d been speaking with one of the inspectors, stopped next to cabin number five…but I’d felt those sapphire eyes on me as awareness had lapped against my skin, like the ripples in the lake.

Our kiss last night was still fresh in my mind. When I closed my eyes, I could remember the soft heat of his lips, the unexpected swell of delight, surprise, and need that had coursed through my veins. I’d been shocked by the surge of hunger I’d felt for him, as if he’d unstoppered a vial of it within me. His kiss, his touch…it had felt like arelief.

Watching him with the inspector, I’d felt like a giddy teenager. Graymore couldn’t feel farther away than in that moment. Part of me mourned when I’d have to leave again, when I’d have to leave Jonathan.

Then the other part of me, the voice growing louder and louder since I’d returned to Everwick, asked,Why can’t you stay?

I’d been running from Everwick for so long, trying to avoid the familiar streets, the familiar faces, because they all proved to me what I hadn’t accepted yet: that I’d never see my grandmother again.

But Jonathan had showed me that there weren’t boogeymen hiding down the narrow alleys of Everwick, waiting to snatch me up in grief. Instead, the memories that rose were bittersweet, butthey felt comforting. And instead of running away, what if I came home?

That was the question I pondered until my fingers were pruned from the water as I tracked the sun across the sky.

Jonathan collected me from my cabin shortly after the inspectors left. Now, late afternoon, we were finally moving. But it was still summer and so the heat of the day was still settling, though the sun was beginning to lower. We’d have just enough time to reach the patch, fill our bags, and, if we kept pace, catch the sunset on the way back down.