Page 18 of The Autumn Leaf Bookshop (Everly Hollow #1)

Within Reason

Raene

“ S o how old are you?” I ask, turning my body towards Ash. Nim is out cold in the backseat, his entire body stretched dramatically across the three seats.

Ash chuckles, eyes still on the road. “By the Seven. Do you really want to know? He gives me a lopsided smile.

By the Seven? Oh, I get it now.

He’s pretty relaxed in the driver’s seat, like this endless string of questions is a welcome distraction instead of an annoyance. I’ve lost track of how many questions we’ve asked now as we drive to Brookeridge. His birthday is in October. Shocker.

Nim is a breed of dragon created by the Goddess of Fall, hence his coloring. Glow-moths are like fireflies, a little bigger. They come in the late summer, stay during the fall, then leave again until next year. We’re definitely past twenty-one. We’re just…talking. And it’s oddly easy.

His hand rests on the gear shift, the other loosely at the top of the wheel .

My eyes catch the hand gripping the wheel, his thumb at the side tapping lightly on the leather to the soft and steady beat of the music that hums low in the background. I love how big his hands are.

Someone give me strength.

The hair tie around his wrist catches my eye. His sleeves are pushed up to show his forearms. It’s the sexiest thing about his outfit. His suspenders are a nice touch. His ass looks good, too.

“Guess.” His voice lulls me from the fantasy of the bathroom scene, moving to the bedroom.

“It’s not nice to guess one's age,” I say, opening my water bottle and taking a few sips. Stopping by that little convenience store just out of Everly Hollow was a great idea.

“How old do I look, in your puny human terms?”

“Puny human?” I narrow my eyes on him.

“I’m a fae male. Emphasis on the male. We’re not created like human men. We’re very different.”

My eyes glance to the tips of his ears, to his forearms, and to the lap of his pants.

“Did you hear yourself, like human men ?” I giggle after trying to lower my voice in a mocking tone to his.

He smirks and shoots me a side eye.

“Alright, alright,” I say. “Well, to me, you look like you’d be maybe a little bit older than me. I’d guess thirty-five.

“A long time ago I once was,” he says.

“Three-hundred and twelve.”

“No, lower, but you’re not that far off. ”

My water bottle halts mid-air, and I lower it slowly. “Wait. You’re seriously in the hundreds?”

“Yeah.”

“How old?”

“You’ll have to keep guessing,” he says, turning us into a parking lot. We’re the only car here, along with a truck. He puts the car into park, turns off the engine, and smiles at me. My eyes glare at him for turning his age into a guessing game.

“Two-hundred and seven,” I say.

“Nope.”

“Thanks for meeting with us,” Ash says, shaking the hand of Gabriel, the owner of World of Whimsy. We’re in an office, a small building on the property beside a few large warehouses.

He’s a little bit taller than me, though not as tall as Ash.

Mid-fifties, maybe, with thick black hair streaked through with silver.

At the top of his head, horns curl like a ram’s and rounded glasses frame light grey eyes.

He smiles brightly, extending his hand. We shake, and his warm, calloused hand engulfs mine.

“Feel free to walk around, look, and see what games and rides you want us to haul out and set up for the two days we discussed on the phone.” Gabriel hands me a tablet. “Whatever catches your eye, select it on this tablet, and it will be added to your list. ”

We say our thanks and part ways, Gabriel turning to head in the other direction. I look up ahead at one of the large warehouses in front of us.

He steps beside me as we head to the doors. “So, any idea of what you think would be good for two carnival days?” he asks, pulling the door open.

Why does it smell like cotton candy in here, and how?

“Well, definitely a cotton candy machine, game booths with fabulous prizes, and a Ferris wheel,” I say, mentally checking off my list. “Maybe spinning acorns and oh!”

I stop, turn to him, a grin spreading on my face. “Bumper cars, but what if they were pumpkins and we could call them Smashing Pumpkins .”

“See, I told you that you were enjoying this,” he says, chuckling.

“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p’ for emphasis. “But you know it would be fun.”

I turn back to walk ahead of me, gently bumping my shoulder against him, because my shoulder can’t reach his, unless my legs are wrapped around his...

“How about two hundred and two?” I ask, walking up to a game booth.

I feel like I’m going to be guessing his age for a while. In the hundreds? I need whatever he is having.

“Close,” he says with a smile, accepting the tablet I hand out to him. “But no.”

That smile of his makes my knees weak, the kind of weak that is going to cause my collapse into embarrassment by face planting on this floor. And he knows it. I know he knows it. That’s why he looks and smells the way he does, why he’s standing there with that wicked, cocky grin.

“What about this game?” I ask over my shoulder, as I stand in front of it.

He steps closer, and I catch his shadow stretching over mine. His gaze flicks to the name of the game before he glances down at the tablet in his hand.

The screen’s glow lights his face in a soft glow, making the freckles across his nose look like constellations in a night sky. His hair brushes the sides of his face. He scrolls with a quick swipe of his thumb. “A-ha! Here it is, Pumpkin Pitch.”

“This will be fun for kids and adults,” I say, tapping the corner of the booth.

I point at the pumpkin-shaped beanbags stacked neatly beside numbered cutouts. “Nothing like a little competition to win a lot of tickets.”

“Sounds like you’re already planning to beat everyone,” he teases, clicking the option on the tablet. The name shifts to our master list.

“Okay.” He glances up at me with that slow, deliberate smile that makes my stomach feel like I’ve stepped off a ride. “Where to next?”

We’ve been here for a little over an hour now. So far, we have added eight rides, including a Ferris wheel, spinning apples, and a carousel with woodland creatures instead of horses. We have a good amount of games on our list, too.

“What are we doing with game prizes?” I ask as we approach a game called Luna Glow Hoops.

He leans against the game, crossing his ankles and arms, his muscles tightening a bit in his shirt.

I glance back at the game because he’s a whole distraction.

Our eyes meet when we hear a low humming noise.

The ring toss game I’m standing in front of, Ash is leaning against, starts to shimmer in iridescent colors of blue, pink, and lavender.

Suddenly, silver rings begin to hover in front of us to grab and toss.

“This is pretty bad ass,” Ash says, smirking and giving me a look. “These games are powered with faerie magic. So we don’t have to worry about prizes at all.”

“You think it still works?" I ask, giving him a puzzled look, about to ask him what he means.

He just grabs a ring and hands it to me. “Only one way to find out.”

Did his eyes just get darker?

“You ready, Raene?” He sets the tablet down on the game edge.

I gently take the ring and toss it. The ring bounces off a pearl colored glass bottle, landing between the bottles in a plink.

Ash takes a ring and loops it perfectly over the neck of a glowing bottle. A little jingle plays, and the bottle gives off a cheery chime .

I roll my shoulders, my crossbody bag shifting lightly against my hip as I adjust my stance.

I grab a ring and toss it. Once again, it wobbles through the air, clips the side of the bottle, and slips into the darkness in between.

But on the rebound, it bends, curves upwards, and locks into a bottle with quiet precision.

A pulsing glow flickers as the jingle plays, followed by another excited chime.

I blink, eyes wide. “That…should not have counted.”

Ash steps closer. “I think it likes you,” he whispers. I laugh. That’s not possible. It would be adorable and pretty cool.

We toss more rings for a couple more minutes, and a floating scoreboard appears. It has glowing glyphs that change from our names— how the fuck did it know that— to the score.

Ash tosses his final ring. It swings perfectly around the final glowing bottle. The whole game lights up in its colors, and the scoreboard reads SYLAS. He throws his hands in the air, slowly spinning in a circle.

Laughing, I say, “Let’s not let it all go to your head, there, big guy.”

He laughs and grabs the tablet.

“So, how will the prizes work?” I ask, looking at the fading glow of the game.

“Oh yeah.” He hands me the tablet, and I take it. He closes his eyes, holds his hands out in front of him, and a plush appears.

When he holds it up and turns it side to side, I burst out laughing. “Is that…a pumpkin spice latte?”

A literal PSL plush that’s about fifteen inches tall, orange, and wrapped in a brown fabric band. On the band are cartoonish eyeballs, rosy cheeks, and a mouth. The top is finished with a swirl of white plush fur, a tiny sewn-on pumpkin, and two miniature cinnamon sticks.

“It’s perfect,” I say, unable to stop the curve of my lips. “So it grants your deepest, darkest desires…within reason?”

His golden eyes catch mine, and he smirks.

“You couldn’t handle my deepest desires, Raene…so I settled within reason.”

Well, that went to level one-hundred real quick.

My pulse stumbles. That was a line. A very good line.

“But yes,” his voice pulls me from my thoughts. “To answer your question, human or magical being, you can conjure up your ideal carnival dream prize when you win.”

I clear my throat. “Let’s add this one to the list, and then I think we’re done here.”

He nods, and we trade. I hand him the tablet, taking the plush, and clutching it tighter than necessary.

What does he even mean by that? Is he teasing, or…nope, we’re not going to overthink this, Raene. Absolutely not. I’ll find myself down a rabbit hole. Still, I can’t stop myself from wondering. Who even says something like that and makes it sound more like a promise, instead of a joke?

We finished our selection of games and rides, and Ash put down the deposit. Saying our goodbyes, we begin our walk back to the car, Nim swooping in from the back window, making himself comfortable for the ride back home .

“Are you hungry?” he asks, quickly reaching the door handle before me, opening the door for me.

“Sure, I could eat.”

He rounds the front of the 4Runner and slides into the driver’s seat. “I know the perfect place.”

Settling ourselves into the booth at a cute diner named The Sugar Maple Bistro , we’re pretty lucky we were able to snag one of the last booths available. Vintage photographs hang on the walls, and a jukebox sits in the corner, singing a tune.

The counter is full of magical patrons and humans, with glass domes covering pies and cakes.

A teen walks over with a bubblegum pink pixie cut, light shimmery blue skin, and grey antlers.

She’s in light blue, high-waisted, baggy jeans, and a long-sleeved purple bodysuit with an apron.

Her deep yellow-green eyes go bright as she smiles with her braces.

"Hi, I'm Sage! I’m your server here today! First timers?”

We both smile and nod our heads to her.

“Well, welcome! Here are our menus,” she sits one in front of us, “my favorite is the club sandwich with fries and our homemade ranch.”

She winks. “What would you like to drink?”

I ask for sweet tea, and Ash asks for lemonade.

“Let me get your drinks, and when I come back, I’ll take your order. ”

We both eye our menu, sitting a table's width away from one another. I shift to cross my legs, and my foot brushes his leg.

“Sorry,” I murmur, barely peeking above the menu.

“It’s okay,” he says, making direct eye contact over the menu.

“Have you made your decision?” Sage asks with enthusiasm as she approaches our table, setting straws and our cold drinks in front of us, breaking the tension of whatever the hell this is.

Sitting my menu down, I order a club sandwich with fries and the ranch with a side of ketchup as well. Ash orders the same. We hand her our menus and begin to sip our drinks.

Why is it so fucking awkward right now?

“So,” I say, crossing my arms in front of me. “How are you feeling about the planning so far?”

He takes a drink, taking a quick sip from the straw. “I think we’re off to a good start. I’m glad about that. I’m happy for the help.”

A hand reaches back to rub his neck. “I really think these changes are going to bring even more people from all over to celebrate. It was a great idea.”

I do a mock bow in the limited space of the booth, and he lets out a laugh that rumbles through his chest.

“So will we still have prizes at the game booths—the kind that the winner can conjure?”

“Sure, it’s easy to do and we can have prizes for them to choose,” he replies. I think back to the smiley PSL sitting on my seat in the car.

I nod my head as Sage walks over with our plates in hand. She sits them down and gives us another beaming smile, “Enjoy! ”

Ash doesn’t hesitate to pick up half of his sandwich, stacked high with toasted bread, bacon, lettuce, sliced avocado, turkey, and tomato, and lifts it in the air like a glass.

I can’t hold back the laugh that escapes my lips.

This male is something else. I raise half of my club sandwich in return, meeting him with a mock toast.