Ready or Not (Aspen Ridge Holiday Novellas)

4. Lily

Chapter Four

LILY

T he night of the harvest festival is finally here, and downtown Aspen Ridge has been transformed into a spooky, Gothic wonderland, ready for people to traipse through. I spent the entire day helping decorate with the volunteers my parents recruited, and the whole time I couldn’t shake that now-familiar uneasy sensation that prickled at the back of my neck and down my spine. The feeling that eyes were on me everywhere I went, that someone was lurking in the shadows, biding their time. It was a heady feeling, to be the center of someone’s attention but not be able to identify who. I tried to ignore the thrill that rushed through me when I gave it thought, willing them to show themselves. I threw myself into the busywork, helping where I was needed, but that inexplicable chill stayed with me, an ominous presence haunting me.

I get dressed in my favorite pair of denim jeans with cuffed bottoms and pair them with brown booties, a cream sweater, and my favorite black pleather jacket, knowing I’ll only get a few more wears out of it before winter arrives in AR. I feel confident. After having my hair pulled back all day, I washed and styled it in big loose waves, and put on a light layer of makeup. I warred with whether or not to rock my favorite red lipstick but decided to go for it. I feel as close to the real me as I dare get and ready for one of my favorite nights leading up to Halloween.

I stroll down the street by myself, the chilly autumn wind whispering over the cobblestone sidewalk, swirling fallen leaves and making them dance around like long-forgotten ghosts of the souls here before us. Flickering lanterns hang from posts along both sides of the street, casting twisted shadows that seem to reach out to every passerby.

I weave through the heavily decorated street, making my way through the maze of vendor stalls, taking my time to admire each. Now that the sun has set, Downtown Aspen Ridge truly feels like a fall fantasyland. The air is thick with the smell of cinnamon and bonfire, and I inhale it deeply into my lungs, following it like the call of a siren. An unsettling chill wraps around me, and I pull my jacket tighter around my body, adjusting my scarf as I walk in search of the origin of the most amazing, mouthwatering scent. The wind blows again, my heart skipping in my chest in anticipation of something ominous, goosebumps scattering across my covered arms.

Am I losing my mind to madness? The only thing keeping me from losing my grasp on reality is the rose. I’m not being haunted, I’m being hunted. Suddenly, that strange feeling of being watched is back in full force and I turn quickly, looking around to see who it could be. As soon as I spin on the heels of my boots, I run face-first into a hard chest.

“Oomph! I’m so sorry!”

Two large, tattooed hands jut out, grabbing me around both arms to hold me steady, but instead of pushing me away, I’m pulled in. The smell of fresh soap, cedar, and something warm and spicy fills my nose, calming my racing heart.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” The deep, sexy voice cascades over me like a warm, welcoming caress, waking my entire body.

“Mr. Draven. Sorry to bump into you again,” I say, trying to right myself from his arms.

“I didn’t say I was complaining, Lilith,” he whispers as his eyes roam over my body. Even though it’s hidden by my coat and clothes, it feels as though I’m standing exposed, naked in front of him, and based on his expression, he’s picturing just that. My cheeks redden, warming as my body heats from the inside out. It’s hard not to bask under his attention. He’s so gorgeous and looks at me like I’m the only one around.

“You here with anyone?” I ask, curious if he’s seeing anyone, not that I could act on these depraved fantasies. Since leaving Bean Haven the other day, I haven’t been able to shake him from my thoughts. Wes looks at me like he sees me. The real me, stripped bare in my rawest, most pure form, and there’s no judgment, only pride and what looks like desire. I know I feel it. Every time I’m around him my body purrs to life and I feel like I can’t get enough. It’s always been that way, from the moment I met him.

“All alone, I’m afraid. You?”

“I’m here with someone,” I stutter like an idiot. “My best friend, Emma. She’s around here. Somewhere,” I answer, as an excuse to look around for the person watching me.

“Ahh. In that case, care to join me for some spiced apple cider?” He points to the vendor stall in front of us selling the steaming, festive liquid that’s sure to warm my chilled body.

“Yeah, I think that would be okay. If it’s not weird for you.”

“Nothing has felt more natural,” he says in a whisper that’s carried off with the wind. I’m not sure I was even supposed to hear it. Even if the feeling of eyes on me has subsided, I look around once more for anyone off in the distance before following Wes to get in line for a drink. Mind firmly back in the present, I take in the man before me. He’s wearing a pair of denim jeans with black boots and a navy flannel button-up with a black puffy vest. The tattoos on his neck creep out above the top of his shirt, and it takes all of my self-control not to ask to see them, wondering if he’d let me trace my fingers along every line.

“How are you, Lilith? Enjoying yourself?”

The deep timbre of his voice pulls me from my fantasy and I shake my head lightly.

“Are you kidding? I live for this. I’m just trying to soak it all in before it’s over.”

“It’s my favorite, too. Something about everything around us slowly dying only to come back renewed in the spring.”

His response quiets me, stunned by the contemplative thought he gave it. He’s exactly right. There’s something so beautiful about everything being stripped bare, to survive the harsh winter, only to come back to life renewed. I stare up at him and admire his features, his chestnut hair, gorgeous brown eyes, and full beard that I want to feel against my sensitive skin. My mind spirals back into the fantasy, one I’ve replayed before, of his face between my legs, his tattooed hands holding me down while he brings me to orgasm with his mouth. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, thoughts of a potential ghost or stalker, or even Emma, long gone.

All that’s left is Wes.