Page 55 of Once Upon a Fall

Then again, he wouldn’t need to. Most people would have just told him the truck was in the way.

But Rosie isn’t most people. She’d let that truck sit there until it became part of the foundation before admitting she needed the space.

I could tell Hal the truck needs to be moved. It would be easy, and I’m pretty sure he’d do it without an argument. But it’s not my garage. And this would be worse than unsolicited advice—it would be unsolicited fixing.

And she didn’t ask me to fix it.

Rosie

The castle, it seemed, was running out of room. This was entirely the princess’s doing.

“Edna B. has the dark hair?” I say, grabbing Dean by the arm and giving it a little shake, feeling way more elated by that piece of information than I probably should be.

He’s currently trying to hang a framed print of the tower Rapunzel lived in. The pastel colors go perfectly with the room.

I was very excited about it until Dean hit me with the Edna knowledge, and that was much more thrilling.

“That’s right,” Dean confirms, making a mark on the wall where the hole for the frame will go.

“Dean, you solved the great mystery of Autumn Ridge,” I say, sounding a little too giddy about this. “I could kiss you for this.”

The words pop out of my mouth without any forethought.

It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just a thing people say. Like about their plumbers. I didn’t say it to Kory, but I could have kissed him when he told me how much the leak cost, and it was significantly less than I was expecting.

Except . . . in this case, I have thought about kissing Dean. Many times. Too many.

This is becoming a problem. I’m thinking about him too much. And sharing too much.

Yesterday, I told him about the Suttons. And Jackson. And Rosaline. Things I don’t tell people.

I’m prone to oversharing, but not about that. I blame the paint fumes. Or Dean’s propensity to listen. Why does he have to be so good at it? He’s also good at picking up context. Maybe a little too good.

I feel like I should clarify that the Suttons were good to me, even if they broke my heart. And Jackson? I could have been meaner. So good job, me.

“Kiss me?” he says, one corner of his mouth tipping upward. I’ve decided it’s his smolder.

I like it way too much.

“It’s just a saying,” I tell him. “I could also . . . pinch your cheek.”

Which I do, like he’s a little kid.

I’m an idiot.

Dean apparently thinks so too, because he’s giving me the straight line of disapproval.

“Well, you’ve saved the day, once again,” I tell him, putting both hands in the back pockets of my black overalls, so I don’t do anything else regrettable with them.

“Hal asked about you,” Dean says, his focus now back on the wall.

“He did?”

“Yeah. He wanted to know if his truck was still in your garage.”

“Oh? Did you tell him it is?”

It’s an odd question for Hal to ask. Of course his truck is in my garage. What did he think I was going to do with it?