Page 35 of Wishing for a Werewolf (Ferndale Falls Forever #2)

Autumn

Mrs. Greely arrives at the farm on Friday afternoon, an hour before the hay maze officially opens.

Rune helps her from her car, making sure she’s got a good grasp on her cane, since the ground is more uneven than town sidewalks.

She’s in full fall festival mode, wearing her pumpkin-orange velour tracksuit.

Rosie and a couple of the other women on the events committee pile out of the passenger and back seats.

A niggle of dread goes through me. They can’t take this year’s hay maze away from me—it’s far too late for that—but they can decide to never let me host it again.

Nope. Nichts. Not going to happen—I won’t let it. I lift my chin and plaster my biggest smile all over my worries.

I spent all morning with Skye and Kayla at the bookshop, practicing controlling my magic.

Some of it was unexpectedly fun, like when Skye wished for one of the lost library books, and it popped into her hands, snatched away from wherever it had been for years.

In quick succession, she asked for several more, beaming with joy to see the books returned.

It felt amazing to realize my magic might be good for something after all.

Then Kayla reminded us to get back on track, and the rest of the session didn’t end up being nearly as successful.

Time after time, Kayla wished for one of her wands, and I tried to stop the wish.

But no matter how much I effing strained, I couldn’t do it.

The last couple of times I seemed to… maybe slow the wish down a little?

It felt like I got a couple of seconds to inspect the wish and think about how to satisfy it instead of it happening automatically, but I’m not sure.

Then I ran out of time, needing to get back to the farm to finish setting up.

I harvested all of the pumpkins from the farm’s vegetable patch.

We don’t sell produce commercially, but we have a small garden full of easy-to-grow vegetables we can eat and use to supplement the goats’ food supplies.

Have a neighbor who constantly tries to foist extra zucchini onto you?

They clearly don’t have goats, is all I’m saying.

Now those pumpkins decorate the entrance and exit to the maze, along with cornstalk bundles and selections of colorful leaves I gathered from the forest and preserved.

“I like what I see so far.” Mrs. Greely smiles up at Rune. “This is a very auspicious start, young man.”

He gestures to me. “It’s all Autumn’s doing.”

But the wish swap spell—or maybe her fascination with his handsomeness—keeps her eyes glued to him.

I step forward anyway. “Do you need help navigating the maze, Mrs. Greely?”

“No, I want to experience it as the townspeople will. If I get lost, I’ll consult the map I have.” Now she does look at me, waving the binder she holds in her free hand. “You did follow the map I approved…” She lifts an eyebrow.

“We did.” I nod, but the skeptical look doesn’t fade from her face until Rune reassures her as well.

Effing hell, I may as well be silent and invisible, at this rate! It might be the wish swap spell causing it, but it’s still irritating.

The elderly women disappear into the maze, and I stalk around the outside, headed for the exit. Deep breaths, Autumn. Remember your calm.

At the exit, I triple-check that everything’s in place.

There are two prize tables, one with packets of candy corn and another with sample bars of goat-milk soap, so something for kids and adults.

And there’s a goat petting area, which holds Babybelle, Mozzarella, Cheddar, and Gouda.

A table set just out of their reach holds the butternut goat cookies I baked this morning, so the people have safe treats for the animals.

I rearrange the sample-soap trays, sliding them a couple of inches left before shoving them back over to where they originally sat.

In addition to the farm’s usual lavender and peppermint, I’ve also set out small slices of my fancy PSL soaps, wrapped in pumpkin-colored ribbons that hold tags with the address of my hidden webpage on them.

“Are you all right?” Rune leans close to rumble in my ear.

“Fine,” I whisper-hiss. “Just fine. In fact, I love being ignored. It’s my favorite thing ever.”

He snorts. “Now you sound like I always imagine Babybelle does.”

That startles a laugh from me, breaking some of my bad mood. “Nah, she’s not sarcastic. She’s just self-centered in that honest way animals have.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Rune’s big hand swallows my shoulder as he gets me to meet his eyes. “They’ll love the maze.”

“But if they don’t?”

“If they don’t, I’ll charm them into changing their minds.”

“You know what? A couple of weeks ago, I wouldn’t have believed you, but you were very charming with Mrs. Greely at the town meeting.”

He steps closer, his eyes flashing gold. “I mean it. I’d do anything for you, my fire.”

My heart skips at his words and the sweetness of the pet name, tears prickling the back of my eyes.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “I know the spell made you do it, but it really means a lot to me that you’ve helped me with all of this.

I… I’m not used to having that kind of support.

” My besties believe in me and give me tons of emotional support, which is amazing, but it’s not the same as having Rune here with me, helping on the farm, doing the physical work.

“I didn’t do it because of the spell, Autumn.” His eyes burn into mine. “I did it be—”

“Well, young man, you’ve really outdone yourself,” Mrs. Greely says, waving her binder, which is open to the map I submitted as part of my application. “The maze is complex enough to be fun without edging over into frustrating, and the little decorations in each dead end are a very nice touch.”

“It was all Autumn’s doing,” he repeats and is again ignored.

“And these are good.” She uses her cane to point at the prize tables before swinging it toward the corral. “But the goats?”

I lift my hand up over my head and give the signal.

Babybelle recognizes her cue and comes bounding toward the temporary fence of the petting area. “Me! Me! Me! Look at me! I’m adorable!”

It works exactly as we planned, and all of the women ooh and ah over my familiar, who hams it up, reveling in the attention.

Rune and I share a hopeful look while we wait, and it’s not long before Mrs. Greely makes her way back over to us. “Well done. Keep the quality up for the next three days, and you’ll be a strong contender for next year.”

As the other members of the events committee walk by, Rosie snags a sample of my PSL soap from the prize table. When she makes the other women smell it, they all turn and come back to get a sample of their own.

“Rune, this is lovely!”

He starts to point to me, and I laugh and shake my head. “Don’t bother,” I whisper, knowing his fae hearing will pick it up. “The wish swap, remember? They also think you’re responsible for the soap.”

“It’s not right.” He scowls as we follow them back around the maze to their car. “You deserve credit for your hard work.”

“It’ll come.” For the first time since we realized what the wish swap spell had done to us, I have hope. “We got your security business started and made it through the pumpkin carving contest. The hay maze will soon be a success as well.”

“That leaves just your soap shop to go,” he says.

“Yep, just the soap shop,” I lie, saying zip, zilch, zero about my heart wish for true love.

Everything goes smoothly that evening, with four trips of horse-drawn hayrides bringing people from the town green to the farm. As the last batch of people enters the maze, Maria climbs down from the wagon to check on the horses.

I take a quick break to jog over to her. “Hi, Maria. I wanted to say thanks for doing this.” I wave to take in the horse-drawn wagon, piled with yellow straw. “Our goats are great, but pulling a wagon is so not in their wheelhouse.”

Tiny and built like the jockey she is, Maria gives me an assessing look, her brown eyes sharp in her tan face. Then she shrugs, a ghost of a smile playing over her lips. “It worked out. We got a new thoroughbred who’s really high strung. He would have hated all the people and noise.”

“Still, thank you.”

“You did a good job.” Her eyes flick over the hay maze. “I assume you did something with soaps near the exit to remind people what your farm specializes in?”

“I did, and I set up a goat-petting area, too.”

“Good.” Maria gives me an approving nod, and coming from her, that really means something. She and her brother took over the Vasquez Horse Farm from their parents and made it one of the most successful businesses in Ferndale Falls.

I ask her for a favor and text Dad a quick question, to which he says yes. When I trot over to Rune at the maze’s exit, there’s a little skip in my step.

Once the last group of people choose their prizes and pet the goats, they head back to the hay wagon, and I pull Rune along in their wake.

“What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise.”

He frowns. “I hate surprises.”

“Well, if you hate this one, I’ll bake you a batch of homemade cookies to make it up to you.”

“Goat cookies?”

“No!” I sputter. “Not goat cookies.”

“Thank the goddess.”

“Wait.” I point at him. “You tried one?”

“You did call them cookies…”

I laugh, imagining him crunching through the unshelled seeds. “Oh, my god! They must have been so crunchy.”

“Extremely.” His tone sounds so serious it makes me laugh harder.

Then his lips twitch, and I realize he’s teasing me back, and I love it. I love that underneath all the gruff is someone happy to play and joke and laugh.

When we reach the hay wagon, Maria gives me a nod, and I grab the edge to climb on.

Two massive hands span my waist, picking me up and depositing me onto the wagon bed effortlessly.

Whew, that’s so effing hot.

Rune climbs on after me, so big he has to squish right up against me as we sit on the straw.

The wagon takes off, moving down the driveway at a sedate pace. The farm looks so pretty with the farmhouse and barn lit by the golden evening sunlight. I wave at Dad, who leads the goats from the little petting zoo area back over to the southern pasture.

The horses turn onto the main road, their hooves clopping against the pavement.

The other people use the opportunity to ask more about the goats and about making soap.

Rune directs them to me, and when I tell them they can watch me make soap by hand on my YouTube channel, my phone pings to let me know I have new subscribers.

A thrill goes through me—almost everyone today chose to take one of my handmade PSL soap samples instead of the regular lavender or peppermint.

This all feels like proof that if I can just find a way to show people my specialty soaps, they’ll sell.

We turn up Main Street, and all of the gingerbread-trimmed shops look cuter than ever at this sedate pace. When we stop beside the town green, everyone else climbs off, but I grip Rune’s forearm to stop him from getting up.

His delicious, delicious forearm. Yum. My hand lingers, stroking up and down the corded muscles.

His deep voice jolts me from my daze. “Do you like my forearms?”

“What? No!” I yelp. “I mean, I like them a normal amount. The amount you’re supposed to like a forearm.”

He chuckles, showing I haven’t fooled him.

Oh, god, my cheeks feel like fire. I wish the straw we’re sitting on would open up and swallow me whole. Thank god, I don’t mutter it out loud and actually make it happen. Small effing miracles.

The wagon takes off again, ambling back down Main Street with only the two of us in the back. Even though there’s now plenty of room, we stay exactly where we were, touching from shoulders to thighs. I let my body sink against his firm strength, relaxing fully for the first time today.

Once we’re away from downtown, the forest closes in around us, the trees looking more beautiful than ever, their leaves blazing in the falling light, the sky overhead streaked with a matching orange as the sun sets.

Rune and I remain quiet, but it’s a completely comfortable silence, one that feels amazingly special.

I’ve never been able to just be with someone like this before, enjoying their company without the pressure to talk, to entertain.

It feels like the kind of calm I occasionally reach toward the end of a good yoga session, when my body moves without conscious thought and I’m fully in the moment.

The sweet smell of straw mixes with the scent of fallen leaves and pine to make a blend that reminds me of those first cool autumn nights where you drink hot cocoa by the fire.

I haven’t done that in years. My cottage doesn’t have a fireplace. But Rune’s house does.

An ache fills my chest. I want that—I want more firsts with him. To be there when he tastes his first sip of hot cocoa, to snuggle up to him and share his first piece of late-night pumpkin pie.

I want a future with him, one not bound by the requirements of any spell.

One built on love.

Because as his shoulder presses into mine and he meets my gaze with a gorgeous, contented smile, I realize one crucial thing…

I love Rune, and I want all of this to be real.