Page 4 of Knotting Autumn

The man beside him let out a cough, and I suspected he was the one who made the noise that startled me. My stomach turned a weird somersault. He had tan skin and reddish-brownhair a few shades lighter than mine and dark, stormy eyes. His gaze held me tight, so intense it took a moment for me to remember how to talk.

“Hey guys,” I said lamely, waving a hand only to realize I had chicken shit-smeared gloves on. Cringing, I tugged them off, moving to toss them in the trash by the register.

“Welcome to Cluckingham Palace, the place for all your farm supply needs. Can I help you with anything?”

When I looked up, the stranger was still in the same spot, like his feet had sprouted roots. His jaw ticked as he watched me, and my anxiety spiked, wondering if he was upset about something. It couldn’t be the spectacular view of my ass he’d gotten when they walked in. He should be thanking me for that.

“Um, we’re good,” he said, his voice a deep rumble that instantly had me thinking of how he’d sound moaning.

Damn. Too bad I’d never know.

“Okay, well I’ll be here if you need me, and I can check you out when you’re ready,” I said, using my best customer service voice. My cheeks flushed at my choice of words.

He strode forward, joining me at the counter, and I cocked my head. Those raincloud eyes caught mine again, and I deliberately looked down at the counter, unable to take the intensity of his attention.

“Bessie?” he asked.

Self-consciously, I fiddled with the nametag. “Oh, no, that’s not my name. It’s just a joke. Yesterday, I was Buttercup, and sometimes I’m Henifer.”

“Henifer?” he said, that mouth pulling up on one side.

“Yeah, like a chicken name,” I said. “The owners are pretty funny.”

Nodding, he raked a hand through his hair. “So what is your name?”

“Autumn,” I answered easily.

“Autumn,” he repeated, letting the name roll around his tongue. “I’m Thorne, and that’s Cole.”

His friend, Cole, reappeared at his side, and closer up, I could see dark smudges under his eyes. He handed a package of eggs to Thorne. “Here, get these.”

I frowned, wondering why he wasn’t handing the eggs directly to me. Thorne cradled the carton for an awkward moment.

“These are just normal eggs, right?”

“Um, yeah,” I said.

His throat worked. “They’re not, you know, fertilized or anything?”

The world’s most awkward few seconds passed before I blurted, “Um, no, just regular non-fertilized chicken eggs here!”

“Cool,” he said, his warm skin looking a bit ruddy. Swallowing, he held the carton out.

As I accepted it, my fingers brushed his.

A jolt shot up my arm like I’d been electrocuted. All the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end. My breathing stuttered, and I struggled to draw in more air.

Swaying on my feet, I let the carton fall so I could grasp the edge of the checkout counter to steady myself. The eggs rattled in their cups.

The man stood rigid, his eyes wide and glowing a pale blue. They were darker earlier, and now they looked like an animal caught in headlights.

I’m hallucinating. Fantastic.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, his outstretched hand flexing into a fist and then opening, like he wanted to reach for me.

That shock of electricity doubled back, flowing through my veins and concentrating in my core. I could feel my pulse beating everywhere, my blood rushing in my ears and throbbing between my legs.

What the fuck was happening to me?