Page 17 of Crazy Little Thing Called Love
Through the window, Faith could see Jake directing a crew unloading drywall, his movements confident and precise. She observed the easy camaraderie he shared with his workers, the respect evident in their interactions. In these few weeks, she’d witnessed countless small kindnesses—his patience with elderly Mrs. Larsen when she questioned the noise, his generosity when a worker’s child was ill, his gentle handling of the stray cat that had adopted the construction site as its home.
None of these actions aligned with the image of the callous womanizer she’d constructed who was too handsome for his own good. Steve had been too handsome for his own good too. Jake Murphy represented both her greatest desire and her deepest fear.
Faith sighed, turning away from the window. The house was beginning to feel like home, despite its incomplete state. The kitchen was taking shape, with new cabinets being installed and space for the vintage stove she’d found at an architectural salvage shop. The living room’s ornate fireplace had been uncovered and restored, and the staircase no longer threatened imminent collapse. Jake had even managed to locate period-appropriate light fixtures for the entryway.
She’d grown attached to their shared lunches in the trailer, to Ruth’s colorful stories about the neighborhood’s evolution, to the daily progress reports Jake provided, always framed with optimism. The thought of distancing herself from this unexpected routine left a hollow feeling in her chest.
Perhaps one community festival wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t a romantic date—Ruth would be there, along with half the town. She could maintain appropriate boundaries while still enjoying the evening. And maybe, just maybe, she could begin to reconcile the Jake she was coming to know with the cautionary tales her heart kept telling.
CHAPTERSEVEN
The Hollow Elmtown square had transformed into a Halloween wonderland. Strings of orange and purple lights crisscrossed overhead, casting an enchanted glow over the bustling crowd below. Vendors lined the cobblestone streets selling everything from caramel apples to handcrafted masks, while children darted between attractions in costumes ranging from classic ghosts to elaborate superheroes.
Faith hugged her red lamb’s wool coat tighter against the October chill, grateful she’d chosen practical boots over the heels she’d initially considered. She’d kept her outfit simple—dark jeans and a cream sweater beneath her coat—practical choices that still managed to draw an appreciative glance from Jake when he’d picked her up.
“I still can’t believe you talked me into this,” she said, accepting the steaming cup of apple cider Jake handed her. The spicy aroma of cinnamon and cloves wafted up, warming her face.
“Talked you into having fun? Such hardship,” Jake teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made her heart skip. He’d dressed casually as well—jeans and a blue button-down beneath a worn leather jacket that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. “Besides, this is the social event of the season in Hollow Elm. Gran would never forgive us if we missed her big judging debut.”
As if summoned by her name, Ruth appeared through the crowd, causing several festivalgoers to stop and stare. She was a vision in what could only be described as a flamboyant fortune teller costume. Layers of colorful scarves draped around her shoulders, a silk turban adorned with costume jewels perched on her head, and at least a dozen jangling bracelets covered her wrists.
“There you two are!” she exclaimed, the bracelets jingling with every emphatic gesture. “I’ve been looking everywhere! The costume contest starts in thirty minutes, and I need to get to my judging station.”
“Gran, you look…” Jake seemed at a loss for words.
“Magnificent? Mystical? Haunting?” Ruth supplied helpfully.
“I was going to say flamboyant, but those work too,” Jake said, shaking his head with fond exasperation.
“I’m Madame Ruth tonight, seer of all things and knower of many secrets.” She leaned closer to Faith, lowering her voice dramatically. “I’ve also got a flask of excellent bourbon in my bag, because fortune-telling is thirsty work.”
Faith laughed, the sound genuine and unguarded. Something about Ruth’s unapologetic zest for life was infectious.
“You two are looking disgustingly attractive but painfully underdressed,” Ruth continued, eyeing their casual attire with mock disappointment. “Though I suppose not everyone can carry off a costume with my panache.”
“We’re going for the normal humans enjoying a festival look,” Jake replied. “It’s very avant-garde.”
Ruth waved away his excuse. “Boring. But you’re both pretty enough that no one will notice.” She checked an ornate pocket watch that hung from a chain around her neck. “I must get to my station. The fate of Hollow Elm’s costume contest rests in these capable hands.”
“Do you need us to escort you?” Jake asked.
“Nonsense. Edward’s waiting by the judges’ platform, probably fretting that I’ve been gone too long.” Ruth’s expression softened in a way Jake rarely saw. “That man has been worrying about me for forty years. You’d think he’d have learned by now that I’m indestructible.”
“Maybe that’s exactly why he worries,” Faith observed quietly.
Ruth’s eyes sparkled with something deeper than mischief. “Perhaps you’re right, dear. Perhaps you’re right.”
She patted Jake’s cheek affectionately. “You two go enjoy yourselves. That’s an order from Madame Ruth. And Faith, dear—” she took Faith’s hands in hers, “—don’t overthink everything tonight. Sometimes the heart knows what it wants before the head catches up.”
Before Faith could respond, Ruth was gone, her colorful ensemble disappearing into the crowd with surprising speed for a woman of her age.
“She planned that,” Jake said, shaking his head.
“Your grandmother is a force of nature,” Faith agreed, still smiling.
“Runs in the family,” he replied with a wink that sent a flutter through her stomach. “So, what first? We’ve got games, rides, the famous Hollow Elm corn maze, or the haunted courthouse that the hospital volunteers set up.”
“Dealer’s choice,” Faith said, surprised by her own willingness to relinquish control.
