Page 35 of The Autumn Leaf Bookshop (Everly Hollow #1)

It’s a sight to see. Mugs with tendrils of steam sit on trays, bubbles and fizz pop in tall glasses, and bottles clinking as pixies pour samples with grace. The combination of the smells in the air makes my mouth water. I can smell coffee, honey, and sugar.

“Time to be adventurous.” Raene winks.

“I’m down to try anything,” I say, following behind to the next booth. “I’m hoping they have something special, maybe pumpkin spiced, just for you.”

My mouth curves at her frown. “Otherwise, you’ll fail your quest for a fully stamped passport.”

She turns to face me. “That’s why it’s a sip passport, Ash.

Just a tiny sip,” she holds up two fingers, barely inching apart, to demonstrate the tiniest sip imaginable.

“It’s barely a swallow,” she says, maintaining eye contact, yet slightly elevating her chin as we continue our walk to a booth of her choosing.

“Barely a swallow,” I echo, walking beside her, letting my voice dip low. “Sounds…disappointing.”

Her head jerks toward me, eyes widening for a beat before narrowing in a playful warning. “You’re naughty,” she mutters, though there’s a smile pulling at her lips as she looks ahead .

“I’m not,” I shrug, “just wanting to make sure that you enjoy every…sip.”

She gasps with laughter, shaking her head.

The first booth greets us with the scent of coffee beans, cinnamon, and honey.

“Honey Cinnamon Latte,” the man says warmly, holding out a tray of small cups. “We have a decaf option as well.”

Raene reaches out, taking a small cup before sending a soft, cool blow across the top to cool it. Her lashes flutter as her eyes drift closed, as she slowly sips.

“Is it good?” The words come out rough, betraying me.

She hums in approval, gently lifting the cup towards my lips.

“Try it.” When I take it, her fingers brush mine, and even though I’ve felt that tiny touch before, it feels like it still has the magic to sink into me.

I take a few sips, the sweet honey melting on my tongue with a warm bite of cinnamon.

“Not bad,” I say, licking my lips for another taste, just to watch her eyes drop for just a second.

She quickly thanks him, as he stamps our passports with an image of cinnamon sticks.

“On to the next,” she says, tugging me toward a booth where glass bottles of orange fizz sit in large bins of ice.

“Ginger-orange sparkling soda,” the vendor explains, handing each of us a cup. I take my time with this one; it’s refreshing, with the tang on the tongue. Raene takes a delicate sip, then scrunches her nose as she laughs.

“Not feeling it?” I ask, fighting a grin .

“These bubbles are fierce, but I do love the taste. The citrus with the ginger is a great combo.

I want her to drink, just to see the bubbles make her laugh again.

Booth after booth, we make our way around, enjoying our drinks and getting our stamps along the way. They include a faerie wine that Raene asked for two cups of, a berry cider, a soft floral tea, and even a pumpkin-spiced hot chocolate that surprisingly earns her approval.

She loved the creamy chocolate but not the pumpkin aftertaste. She only winced slightly and plugged her nose ever so gently. No, that didn’t happen. In all seriousness, she fucking hated it and won’t be converting to Team Pumpkin in this lifetime.

We tease, we laugh, and somewhere between the fizz and the warmth of the drinks, I pull her close, sneaking touches…

kisses. The fact I can kiss her under a streetlight, her back pressed against it—don’t worry, her back has been perfectly fine—gives me an excuse to slip a hand beneath her sweater.

I glide it along the smooth, silky skin of her ribs, tracing the lace under her breast, until I brush against a nipple.

When she whimpers, fuck , I want to bite her lower lip, and I do, before deepening the kiss.

This. Fucking. Mouth.

By the time the last stamp hits her passport, the market has thinned out. The lanterns above us sway like captured stars or glow moths picked right from the sky, and music drifts soft and low near the fountain at the square.

Raene leans against the stone edge, the passport clutched in her hand, her chest heavy with laughter. I step closer, close enough that the gold flecks in the iris of her honey-brown eyes brighten.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” I ask, voice low.

She hums and gives me a soft smile. “Told you I’d keep you safe.”

I free my hand from my pocket, catching her chin between my thumb and finger, the hold gentle yet firm. My gaze dips from her eyes to her parted lips, and without thought, my thumb traces a slow path along her jawline.

“I don’t think I am safe with you,” I whisper. The truth is heavy on my chest. “Not even close.”

She tilts her head, a question sparking to life in her eyes, but I don’t give her a chance to speak.

Instead, I close the distance, pressing my mouth to hers.

The kiss is slow at first, soft and warm.

Her breath catches when I pull back, and by the goddess, that sound itself, that light and airy gasp, it takes my breath too.

Even in this moment, things may seem perfect. When I know it can’t be.