The Cider Shop Rules

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  “You used me as bait,” I said, suddenly unsure how I felt about it.

  “Not really. I was coming for you regardless after that text. I just took advantage of the marshals and available deputies in case it was a two-for-one night. We could’ve all shown up just to take Wes in.”

  I looked in the direction Wes had run.

  “He’s in custody,” Colton said, pulling an earpiece from his right ear. “My men were waiting for him when he left the maze.”

  I leaned into Colton’s embrace, careful not to press against his surely bruised chest. “You were shot.”

  “I suspected I would be, so I came prepared,” he said. “Being shot tonight was a good thing. Keller just made it a lot more unlikely that he’ll find leniency in the eyes of the court.”

  “You can’t hold me,” Keller seethed, his arms wrenched behind him and locked in cuffs. “I’ll get off or out, and I’ll come for you.”

  Colton raised the dented vest. “You’re not going anywhere, Keller, and they’ll be prepared for you this time, when you’re being transferred to the maximum-security prison where you’ll spend the rest of your life. You can be sure about that.”

  The marshals yanked Keller’s arms, and he spun away with them to face whatever fate awaited him. Whatever it was, he’d earned it.

  “You okay?” Colton asked, wiping the pad of his thumb across my tearstained cheek and tucking wild, windblown hair behind my ear.

  “Thank you,” I said, winding my arms around his waist. “You saved my life again.”

  “You were in danger again,” he said, pressing me to his chest and tightening his protective arms around me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I know you must be sick of this.”

  “I will always come for you,” he whispered, lowering his cheek against the top of my head.

  And I believed he would.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Granny outdid herself for Thanksgiving. The house was covered in holiday cheer, the table and counters lined in food. She’d decided to serve the meal all day this year and do it buffet-style, then she’d invited everyone she’d seen, spoken to, or passed on the street these last few days. She didn’t even care whether they knew her. And the guests had arrived in droves. All day, stopping in before or after their own festivities, many with a dish to share. Some ate until they could burst. Others opted for coffee or dessert only, but all were welcome, and Granny made sure that every soul that passed through her door knew it.

  Colton had come early and stayed all day, helping haul in and clean up extra tables and chairs from storage.

  I sipped hot cider from my seat near the fire and enjoyed the tender moments of community and belonging all around me. I wished, stupidly, as I always did during the holidays that my long-lost mother would show her face and reveal that she was okay, but in keeping with her longest-running tradition, she did not.

  Colton made his way in my direction, having helped Granny refill some empty serving bowls, and put on a new pot of coffee. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good,” I said. “You?”

  “Good.” Colton smiled and tapped his mug to mine in cheers. “I’m feeling better than I have in a very long time. It’s nice.”

  “Looks good on you too,” I said.

  He’d worn a simple black V-neck over a gray T-shirt with jeans, but he looked a lot like a man who was fast stealing my heart. The semi-permanent scowl he’d worn since we’d met was gone today, replaced with a reluctant but brilliant smile. That alone made me happy to see Samuel Keller behind bars. I’d had no idea how much capturing the fugitive had weighed on Colton until that weight was finally lifted.

  “You think Keller will find a loophole and get off?” I asked. “Or escape again?”

  “Not a chance.” Colton said. “There’s not a lawman around him who will let their guard down again. After killing my partner, then his transport guards, and taking that shot at me in the corn maze, he’s pretty well sealed his fate.”

  I sipped my cider, content with that outcome, but concerned about another. “Were you able to see Wes?” I asked. “Any chance they’ll go easy on him?”

  “He was with the court-appointed attorney when I got there, but I’ll do what I can for him,” Colton said. “He had a lifetime of extenuating circumstances, but he killed a man. Two if you count his dad, and he had every intention of killing you.”

  “The old sheriff should have helped him,” I said. “It’s not right.”

  Colton nodded. “It’s not substantiated either. It’s hearsay from an emotionally wrecked kid, but it’s being looked into. Meanwhile, I have some related, but better news. I found Wes’s mom a place where she can get help. I know a guy at the detox and wellness center in Clarksburg who’ll treat her and keep her pro bono. If she sticks it out, she can start over.”

  “Do you think she will?” I asked, a bubble of hope in my chest.

  “The way I see it, she’s got nothing to lose, but it’ll be hard work, and it’ll have to be her choice.”

  “Thank you,” I said, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Wes will be glad. I know he wants to be a good man for her.”

  “A boy and his mother,” Colton said.

  “Do you try that hard to please yours?” I asked.

  He smiled. “Not quite, but my mom has always given her unconditional love, so I’ve had plenty of room to be myself. She loves all of us right where we are. Good or bad. You know?”

  I raised my eyes to Granny, refilling cups and plates inside the fullest kitchen in town and smiling with pure, selfless joy. “I do.”

  Colton watched the crowd, eyes busily surveying the scene. I supposed you couldn’t take the cop out of him, whatever the occasion. He chuckled at the sight of another guest bringing a pumpkin roll.

  “We love our pumpkin rolls,” I said as Granny stacked it with three others on the dessert table. “Wait till next month. They’ll all be ho-ho cakes, though I think I prefer pumpkin.”

  “Did I tell you I saw Mrs. Potter yesterday?” Colton asked. “She was at the post office. She had a moving truck and was going to stay with her family until the farm sells.”

  “Thank goodness for family.” My phone buzzed, and I dug it free from my pocket to check the message. “I’m hoping this is Dot. I have something I want to do in a bit, but I don’t want to miss her when she gets here.”

  “Where is she?” he asked. “Working late?”

  “She’s at Doc Austin’s. The truffle hog took a turn for the worse. I left another voice mail with the mushroom hunters’ group today because they hadn’t called me back after my last message. This time I gave a long, detailed explanation of what’s been going on and Dot’s number instead of mine. Hopefully she has good news. Either about the hog’s progress or about finding his family.”

  I swiped the screen to read the message. My heart sank with each word.

  “Was that her?” Colton asked. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s okay, but she’s not coming.” I put my phone away and counted silently to ten, reining in my temper before speaking. “She says it’s been touch and go with the hog, and the mushroom hunters finally reached out to her. They told her to put him down. They’d assumed he was permanently lost or dead and weren’t interested in accruing medical expenses for him.”

  Colton cringed. “Ouch.”

  I rolled heartbroken eyes up to meet his. “What’s wrong with people?”

  Colton squinted, thinking, it seemed. “You want to get out of here? Maybe take Dot a plate? I’ve got my phone if anyone needs me and a deck of cards in the cruiser. We can keep her company so she’s not alone and miserable on Thanksgiving.”

  “Yes.” I smiled. “She’d like that.” And so would I.

  I sent a return text to Dot, who responded with a series of crying emoticons. “She’s happy,” I reported. “But first, we have something else to do.”

  Colton hiked a brow. “Yeah?”

  I rose from my chair
with a smile.

  Hank’s laughter turned my head, and I laughed along with it. “He’s such a nut,” I said. “And that laugh is obnoxious.” Completely over the top. Carefree and contagious. “He’s feeling like a champ right now because his company loved his suggestion to launch a Support the National Parks campaign.”

  Hank took notice of us staring and headed our way.

  “I’m calling it a night,” he said, shaking Colton’s hand, then hugging me tight. “Dad’s picking me up before dawn tomorrow for a little deer hunting with my uncles, so it’s probably time I head home.”

  “You’re going hunting?” I asked. “Your dad must be thrilled.” Hank’s family was full of hunters and outdoorsmen, but Hank had never quite fit that mold. It would mean the world to his dad to have him along.

  “I’d rather sleep until sunup and then go for a run, but Dad doesn’t do either of those things,” Hank said. “I don’t know how many more deer seasons I’ll have with him, so I figured it’s time I start making the memories I should’ve been working on years ago. I missed out on hunting with my grandpa. I don’t want to have that same regret with Dad.”

  “Smart man,” I said. It didn’t matter how people passed the time spent with loved ones. It only mattered that they took the time to be there.

  Hank kissed my cheek, then went to say good-bye to Granny.

  “He’s growing up so much,” I told Colton. “Feel like going for a walk?”

  Colton furrowed his brow. “Is it a walk to the thing you need to do before taking your best friend dinner?”

  “It is.” I took his hand casually and led him toward the door. I jumped back when it swung open and Harper bustled inside.

  “I’m here,” she said brightly. “I can only stay a moment, but I’m here. Happy Thanksgiving!”

  I hugged her, then pointed her in Granny’s direction before slipping on my coat. “I love her,” I told Colton as I fastened my scarf and zipped my coat.

  “Where did you find her?” he asked, holding the door while I passed onto the porch.

  I gave the yard a careful scan for signs of Waddles or Boo. They’d both been put up for the night, but neither was great at doing what was expected of them. “I found Harper at school, why?”

  He looked away and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Because I ran her prints after you found that pocketknife in your cider shop table. She’s new and has access to your entire property, so I wanted to be sure she wasn’t here for nefarious reasons.”

  I imagined Harper, the human equivalent of sunshine, as a harbinger of evil and laughed. “Harper is wonderful,” I assured him. “And she has a clean record. I looked her up myself on the public database before I hired her.”

  “You’re right. Harper Mason doesn’t have a record,” he said, “but that’s not your orchard manager’s real name.”

  I paused at the bottom of the porch steps. “What? Why not?” I looked back at the house, confused. “Why would she lie about her name?”

  He lifted his shoulders, then let them down slowly. “Hard to say without asking. My best guess is that she’s hiding from something. Or someone.”

  I grabbed his sleeve and towed him away from the house. “Who is she really?” I asked.

  “Amber Houston. She doesn’t have a record either.”

  “I guess that’s something.”

  Colton nodded. “You might want to talk to her about it sometime. See if she’ll talk to you. Tell her I’m here to help, but go easy. Something tells me that if she finds out her cover’s blown, she’ll run.”

  I hooked my arm in the crook of his and contemplated the number of secrets kept by the people around me. How complicated we all were and how little most people ever knew about one another. “I hope she’s okay,” I said.

  Colton covered my hand with his, curving warm fingers against mine on his arm. “With a friend like you, she will be.”

  We walked across the field between houses, then on past a number of outbuildings and rows of trees in sweet silence. Behind us, Granny’s home glowed warm with light and laughter. Above us, the stars lit the way.

  “Where are we going?” Colton asked.

  “You’ll see. It’s not far now.”

  Several minutes later, we arrived at the top of a small hill over a winding creek a few dozen yards below. “It’s no cliff, but it’ll do,” I said. Bending to reach a pair of preselected sticks at my feet, I handed one to Colton. “Now put a mudball on it.”

  He laughed. “Seriously?”

  I released his arm and pushed a completed ball onto the tip of my spear. “Yep. It’s more like damp dirt, but it’s ballable,” I said.

  Colton crouched to pinch the ground and gather his medium. “‘Ballable?’”

  “Ready? Watch closely, because I’m a professional.” I pulled the stick back and whipped it forward, dislodging its spherical cargo. The ball vanished into the night, leaving an audible trail as it knocked into limbs and leaves and branches on its way to the water below. “Now you.”

  Colton mashed a too-large blob onto his stick and swung. The hunk landed about six feet in front of us.

  “Too big,” I said, then I flung another little sphere into the night.

  Colton did better the second time, and we continued, catapulting dirt and laughing for a long while. Mudballs in the moonlight. A moment I wouldn’t soon forget.

  Eventually, he passed me a handkerchief, and I rubbed the dirt from my fingers.

  “Thanks for this,” he said. “You’re right. It’s fun.”

  “Told you.” I slid my hand into his as we made our way back through the chilly night, to fix a plate for Dot and let her know she was loved.

  “Can I make you dinner sometime?” Colton asked, twining his fingers with mine.

  “Sure. Why?” I slowed for a better look at his face in the night. “What’s up?”

  He barked a sharp laugh, then went back to walking, tugging me along at his side. “Blake’s right. I’m really bad at this.” He glanced sideways at me, not losing step. “I’m asking you out. Officially. I’d like to make you dinner and serve it to you at my house. Anything you’d like, as long as it’s available for carryout somewhere in town.”

  “Okay.” I laughed, my heart full and my thoughts aflutter. “I’d like that.”

  Colton dipped his chin, a broad and genuine smile on his truly handsome face. “Well then, it’s a date.”

  It certainly was.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you so much, dear reader, for joining Winnie and Granny on another Blossom Valley adventure. These books bring me so much joy to write, and I couldn’t do that without you. You make my dreams possible, and for that, there simply aren’t words. Additionally, I want to thank Norma, my blessed editor, who makes me feel like I can conquer the world, one story at a time; Kensington Books, for allowing me to be part of their amazing team; my literary agent and biggest cheerleader, Jill Marsal; and my critique partners, Danielle Haas and Jennifer Anderson. And thanks to my family, who tolerate a pajama-wearing, sleep-deprived, daydreaming, silly heart of a wife, mother, and friend, thank you for loving me exactly as I am.