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Page 3 of Falling Like Leaves (Bramble Falls #1)

We’ll be back home soon enough. This is only temporary, I remind myself. Sloane comes panting up the steps, carrying the box with my sewing machine and materials.

“Sloane!” my mom chirps. “You didn’t need to bring that up. Ellis and I would have taken care of it!”

I let out an annoyed huff. Bringing it was her idea. There was no way I was hauling that thing up two flights of stairs.

“It’s no problem, Aunt Annie. Happy to help! Where would you like it?”

Before I can tell her it doesn’t matter because I don’t really sew anymore, Aunt Naomi chimes in.

“Oh yes, that’s right! Annie said you design clothes, Ellis, so I brought up a table for your machine.

” She points to our left at a dusty antique sewing table with a small stool.

Sloane waddles over to it and drops the box with a grunt.

“Now, I know you probably use all kinds of special city fabrics for your outfits, but we do have stacks of boxes up here with donations from last month’s clothing drive.

We had so many come in, the donation center said I’d have to bring the rest back in December.

So you’re welcome to whatever you find.”

I decide not to tell her that almost all my creations have been made from thrifted oxfords and instead opt for “Um, thanks. Sounds good.”

My aunt claps and beams at us. “Great! Well, I was thinking I’d make everyone breakfast. What do you think?”

“I’m starving,” Mom says. “Ellis?”

“I just want some coffee, honestly. I don’t suppose this place has entered the twenty-first century and gotten a Dunkin’? Or any coffee shop, for that matter?” I ask.

Mom sighs, exasperated, but Sloane laughs and says, “Still no Dunkin’. But we do now have the Caffeinated Cat.” I cock an eyebrow at her. “It’s a cat café. The coffee is to die for, and the cutest adoptable cats wander around inside. Trust me, you’ll love it. I’ll walk there with you.”

“Oh. You don’t have—”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not letting you walk around town by yourself on your very first day,” she says. “Come on.”

We all leave my dusty bedroom and file down the stairs.

“You two have fun,” Mom says, mouthing the words be nice at me as Sloane and I head out into the crisp morning air, a welcome reprieve from the hot attic and Mom’s suffocating presence.

For two blocks, Sloane talks incessantly about her best friend, Asher, her mom’s job, the theater camp she attended this summer, and how excited she is for school to start the day after tomorrow—a fact I’m choosing to ignore because it’s nausea-inducing.

Along the way, we walk by several houses where people are sitting on their porch, sipping coffee, and reading the newspaper. All of them seem to know Sloane. Closer to town, we pass the local bookstore and the Bramble Falls florist, where a handwritten sign is already advertising fall flowers.

Finally, we arrive at a teal-colored building located on the corner of Peach Street and Oak Avenue, almost directly across the road from the town square.

I don’t remember what was here the last time I was in Bramble Falls, but now a wooden sign with the words THE CAFFEINATED CAT hangs above its door.

Sloane holds the door open for me, and I step into the coffee shop, careful not to let any of the roaming felines out.

The blended scent of coffee and sugar rides the air, making my mouth water and perking me up before caffeine has even hit my tongue.

The line is six people deep, so I study the chalkboard menu behind the counter while we wait.

Not a pumpkin spice latte in sight.

“What are you getting?” Sloane asks as we step closer to the front of the line, a fat calico cat nuzzling her calf and making circles between her legs.

I sigh. “I have no idea. I don’t—” I’m about to turn to her when my eyes snag on the guy behind the counter. I squint as if it’ll make me believe what I’m seeing. “Sloane, is that…”

There’s no way.

Sloane follows my gaze and smirks. “Cooper Barnett? Yeah. You remember him?”

Of course I remember him.

I remember Sloane introducing us the last time I was here. He declared us best friends the second she left to spend the summer traveling with her dad before he passed away.

For those two short months, I remember us being inseparable.

I remember drinking Capri-Suns and eating Cool Ranch Doritos together at the lake on the outskirts of town, his noodly limbs stretched out on the dock while he rambled on excitedly about the history of confectioners’ sugar or the science behind using salt in bread dough.

I remember racing our bikes down Willow Creek Lane, our shoulders pink and our freckles popping, before he wiped out trying to dodge the only pothole in town.

I remember sneaking into the Bramble Falls drive-in theater on classic-movie night. He couldn’t stop crying at the end of Free Willy .

I remember eating entire boxes of Popsicles just to get to the jokes on the sticks while we swung in the hammock together in Aunt Naomi’s backyard.

And a girl always remembers her first kiss.

But…

“I don’t remember him looking like that ,” I say, unable to reconcile the cute, lanky boy I used to know with the specimen standing three people in front of me. “When did he get so…”

“Hot?” she asks with a giggle.

I shrug. “I mean, yeah.”

His once-short brown hair has now grown out in thick waves that curl at the tips of his ears and flop over his forehead, and a cream-colored apron is tied around a tall, fit body.

We inch closer, and I notice the smattering of light freckles across his nose that I never appreciated when we were younger.

He still has his full cheeks, punctuated by a single dimple, but now they’re accompanied by an angular jawline that adds a hotness to his boyish charm.

In the words of what I imagine might be on one of Aunt Naomi’s coffee mugs: Un-freaking-be-leaf-able.

“He hit a growth spurt sophomore year,” Sloane whispers, pulling me from my trance. “Then he ditched those nerdy round glasses he was always pushing up the bridge of his nose and, if I had to guess, probably started using the school’s weight room.”

The lady in front of us picks up a fluffy white kitten from the floor and moves to the end of the counter. We step forward, and my stomach does a weird little swoop.

Cooper Barnett is wildly beautiful.

“Hey, Sloane,” he says, grinning at her. He glances at me for a split second before opening his mouth to ask Sloane what she wants. But then he does a double take, his smile falling and his amber eyes widening as they fix on me.

How did I forget how stunning his eyes are?

“Hey, Coop,” I say, my lips curling upward into a grin I can’t contain. His jaw flexes, but he says nothing. It occurs to me that maybe he doesn’t remember me . “Ellis Mitchell… Sloane’s cousin.”

I glance at Sloane standing beside me, watching Cooper with a furrowed brow.

“I know who you are, Ellis,” he says, a sharp edge to his voice.

“Oh.” My smile wavers. “Good. It’s been a long time. How have you been?”

“Busy.” He turns back to Sloane. “What can I get for you?”

Um, okay, then.

“I’ll just have a green tea, please,” she says. Then she turns to me, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “What about you, Ellis?”

“Do you happen to have a secret pumpkin spice latte that’s not on the menu?” I offer him my warmest smile, trying to thaw his inexplicably frosty attitude toward me.

“No.” He looks at the line behind us and sighs, obviously wanting us to move along. “I’d recommend the harvest spice latte. It has pumpkin spice, hazelnut, and gingerbread. It’s the closest you’re going to get in Bramble Falls, and it’s a million times better.”

“I doubt that,” I tell him. “But okay, you’ve sold me. I’ll have the biggest harvest spice latte you’ve got.”

He nods, taps on the screen in front of him, and gives me the total, avoiding looking at me the whole time. I swipe my card, and Sloane and I move to the other end of the counter to wait for our drinks.

“What the hell was that about?” Sloane hisses.

“I was going to ask you the same thing. When did he become such an asshole?”

“He didn’t! Cooper’s basically the nicest person I know. What’d you do to him?”

“Nothing! I haven’t been here in years .

We were really good friends before I left.

” I don’t mention the kiss. She’d wonder why I never told her about it back then.

I doubt she’d believe the truth—that it wasn’t a big deal.

Plus, it’s irrelevant because it didn’t change things between Cooper and me.

“We even texted after I went back home.”

“You did?”

“For a little while, before we both got too busy with school. But nothing explains his attitude toward me. We didn’t get into a fight or anything.”

“I don’t know, girl. Cooper doesn’t dislike anyone. Whatever you did must have been pretty bad.”

“I didn’t do anything!” I yell, sending a cat skittering behind a trash can and capturing the attention of two women waiting for their drinks—and, of course, Cooper. My cheeks flare, and I look down at the square toes of my black leather Stuart Weitzman boots.

When our drinks are finally called, we grab them, but just before we leave, Sloane leans over the counter.

“Hey, Cooper,” she calls. “You still coming over later?”

He nods. “I’ll be there at six.”

She gives him a thumbs-up, and I follow her toward the door.

“What’s happening later?” I ask her, stepping over a tabby cat in a green sweater.

She flashes me a giant grin over her shoulder. “It’s September, which means it’s officially Falling Leaves Festival season.”

“Okay? And what’s that mean?”

Sloane stops walking, and I nearly spill my latte as I bump into her. She pivots to face me.

“It means we have a lot of work ahead of us,” she says.

“Bramble Falls is known for going all out in the fall. There are fall-themed activities every weekend throughout September and October. You know, apple picking, hayrides, corn mazes, pumpkin carving, a fall scavenger hunt, a double-feature horror-movie night at the drive-in, the Autumn Spice Sprint, the Boots and Blankets Bonfire, and the Pumpkin Prom.”

“The… Pumpkin Prom?”

“It’s a costume party with lots of dancing,” she says, practically shaking with excitement.

“All of it leads up to the big festival the first weekend of November to conclude the season. It’s pretty much a huge all-day party.

In New York you have the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Here we have the Bramble Falls Parade around the square! ”

I stare at her, dumbfounded by how giddy she is about these events.

“People come from all over for the Bramble Falls experience,” she continues.

“It’s a ton of fun, but it also generates lots of money for the town.

And since my mom is the mayor and the head of the tourism board, it’s our job to plan, set up, and participate in the events.

And since Cooper’s mom is on the board too, he helps out a lot.

He’s coming over later to carry the heavier boxes down from the attic because it’s finally time to turn this town into an autumn oasis! ”

“Got it….” I clear my throat, my curiosity getting the best of me. “So, are you and Cooper, like, together?”

“Definitely not,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s hot, and he’s super sweet. But I’m not interested. Why do you ask?”

She gives me a knowing smile, and I roll my eyes.

“I was just wondering,” I say. “Now walk. Let’s get out of here.”

Sloane obeys, sipping her tea and turning around. The bells above the door jingle as she steps outside.

Before leaving, I glance back at Cooper and find him watching us. Our eyes lock for what feels like both only a moment and a thousand years before he looks away.

I don’t want to care about the fact that Cooper seems to hate me—the same way I don’t care about anything else in this town. I wish I could forget about him the same way I’ve forgotten about him the last three years.

But now that I’m back here and I’ve seen him again, I can’t shake the nostalgia.

Memories of the best summer I ever had with the sweet boy from Bramble Falls wrap around me like a blanket.

And as I catch up with Sloane outside, the promise of a new season filling the air, I can’t help but wonder who Cooper Barnett is now—and what spending a fall with him would be like.

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