Page 2 of Falling for Felix
"Fall how?" I ask, against my better judgment.
Her grin widens. "Oh, you know. Fall hard. Fall fast. Fall completely head over heels in love with the first pretty thing that wanders into their orbit."
"That's ridiculous."
"Is it?" She tilts her head, studying me like I'm a puzzle she's working on. "Because it's officially leaf-falling season, Mr. Grumpy Carpenter. And you're looking awfully susceptible."
I raise an eyebrow. “Mr. Grumpy Carpenter?”
Joy grins. "Fine. Mr. Grumpy Furniture Artist Extraordinaire. Is that better?”
I sigh.Carpenter wasn’t the objectionable part of the sentence.
“The point is,” Joy continues, “you're about to get swept off your feet whether you like it or not."
I shake my head, backing toward the door. The bell jingles overhead as I reach it. "Thanks for the cinnamon twist, Joy. And the warning."
"Don't fight it, Felix," she calls after me, her voice carrying that sing-song quality that means she's enjoying this way too much. "Fate has a way of finding you, even when you're hiding in the corn."
“I don’t hide in the corn,” I grumble, even as I stroll in the direction of the maze. Ever since I was old enough to walk, I couldn’t resist navigating through the corn, and Joy knows it. I’ve always preferred solitude to people, and the corn maze offered the perfect escape.
The morning air feels cooler after the warmth of the store, and I'm halfway through the cinnamon twist—damn Joy and her perfect baking—when I round the building and reach the old wooden sign that reads "Maple Ridge Corn Maze. Get Lost and Find Yourself!"
The maze rises ahead of me, eight-foot-tall stalks creating a living labyrinth that stretches across nearly two acres. I can hear the rustle of dried leaves and the whisper of wind through the rows.The corn closes around me as I follow the packed dirt path, and for a moment, I let myself disappear into the rustling quiet. The scent of drying husks and rich earth surrounds me, grounding me in the present moment. This is why I retreated deeper into the mountains, after all. For the peace. The solitude.
The certainty that I can walk through my days without anyone expecting more from me than I'm ready to give.
Alone.
Just the way I like it.
Chapter 2
Harper
"Pickles,no!Notthecorn again!"
But I'm already talking to empty air.
My dog—who is part gremlin, part mystery mutt, and entirely too smart for his own good—has launched himself nose-first into the towering corn stalks behind the Maple Ridge General Store like he's on a mission to destroy rural America one ear of corn at a time.
One second he was curled up on the passenger seat of my RV, snoring like an old man with a deviated septum. The next? Full sprint toward agricultural chaos. Zero warning. Zero consideration for my sanity.
Zero chill.
With a sigh, I hitch my oversized canvas tote higher on my shoulder. It's stuffed with tomorrow's booth supplies and weighs approximately as much as a small planet. Then I take off after him. My boots thud against the hard-packed earth, and I nearly trip over a corn husk.
"Pickles!" I hiss, trying to keep my voice low because drawing attention to my escaped dog feels like the kind of thing that might get me banned from the festival before I even set up my booth. "You are completely ruining our wholesome small-town experience."
The corn maze opens around me like something from a dream.Or maybe a nightmare.
If there are creepy scarecrows in here, I’m going to lose my shit.
Golden morning sunlight filters through the gaps between stalks, casting everything in warm, honey-colored light. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the gentle tinkling of windchimes and the sounds of early festival prep.
But my dog has completely vanished.
Typical.
