Page 32 of Love Story

“It’s a different world here,” he murmured.Something in his voice had shifted—quieter now.

“Different to Boston?”

He nodded.“Yeah.I don’t miss it.”

“What about your job there?Mom said something about computers?”

He winced.“Sort of.It’s… complicated.”He hesitated, his thumb tracing the edge of the tap.“Everything went to shit.I lost my job, not that I can talk about it—NDAs and all that.”

“‘NDA’?”

“Yeah, a Non-Disclosure Agreement.It’s a legal contract that means I can’t talk about—”

“I know what an NDA is.”I put on my best country drawl and poked him with one of the other spiles.

“Sorry, I’m… underestimating this town,” he said.

“I’m teasing you.”I nudged him on the shoulder and said, “You’re holding that spile like it’s going to bite you.”

That got a smile out of him—a real one, not forced or shy.“I’ve never exactly been outdoorsy,” he said, laughing.“I’m thrilled I’ve touched an actual tool!”He went scarlet and dipped his head to stare at his hands.

“Well, it’s a start,” I said, stepping back before I did something stupid, like reach for his hand again.“Next thing you know, you’ll be in the sugarbush helping me tap trees.”

He shook his head.“Let’s not get carried away.”

“You’ll have to come to the Tap the Year,” I blurted.

He blinked at me.“And that is?”

“A celebration for the start of the season, coffee, doughnuts, a ceremonial tap, this Saturday.”Everything spilled out of me.

He nodded.“Okay.I’d love to.What time?”

“We start around three, and then it goes on into the evening.It’s friends and family and potluck.”

“I could bring something,” he volunteered, then laughed.“Scratch that, I’ll ask Aunt Harriet to make something for me to bring.”

“She’s invited anyway—Mom invites the entire knitting circle—so instead of food, how about you bring your cute self?”

Fuck!What the fuck did I just say?

He slid off the stool, steadying himself, and handed me the spile, offering me the softest of smiles.

“I’ll see you Saturday at three.”

“Bye,” I said, returning to the table, hearing him leave and shutting the door behind him.God.I’m a fucking idiot.I wished I could keep him there longer, asking questions and flashing that shy smile.He had a way of getting under my skin without even trying.

“Haider and his fucking dibs,” I muttered under my breath as I leaned against the counter, my phone already in hand.This needed to be sorted out long before Saturday.Because if it wasn’t, there was a very real chance I’d smash the bro-code to bits by tugging Ben behind a tree and kissing him senseless.

I hit Haider’s contact and pressedcall.He answered on the third ring with a grumbled, “No one uses phones to call people, Sammy.”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Ever heard of messaging?Some of us are working!”

The tone caught me off guard.Haider was all warmth and energy, not this curt version.“Um… are you okay?”I asked.

“Yeah, why?”

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