Cider Grove Orchards gleams like a jewel under the autumn sun. The fields are golden, and the verdant trees are loaded with amber, green, and ruby red apples. There’s a chill in the air that holds the light scent of cinnamon and spices as we pass the cider press. The ground is peppered with maroon maple leaves that stamp against the hillside like hands. And the birch trees rise high into the sky around the periphery, shimmering golden in the crisp breeze.

“It’s beautiful here.” Noah scoops a basket out of the reserve as we head deep into the orchard, and I lead us toward a bumper crop of Pippins, Pink Ladies, and Honeycrisps.

“It is beautiful,” I say, tossing a Pink Lady into his basket. “That’s why I never want to leave again. Honey Hollow is home. There’s not another living soul I’d give the power to chase me out of here again.”

“Again?” He tips his head my way, amused. Noah has a charm about him, something disarming that makes you trust him far too soon. Maybe he is cut out for the PI business after all. “Ah, yes. New York. I thought you went for school?”

“I did, but I stayed for me, or so I thought. I never really belonged there, but a part of me never wanted to come back.”

He drops the basket between us and begins plucking the rose-colored apples clean from nearby limbs. “So what, or should I say who, chased you out?”

I give a wry smile as I toss an apple to him and he catches it close to his chest.

“You first. What happened in Cincinnati? Let me guess, you’re wanted in Ohio?”

He barks out a short-lived laugh. “Believe me, I’m not wanted in Ohio. I’m not sure I’m wanted anywhere at this point.”

“Is that where you’re originally from? Ohio?” I’m still curious how he seemed to know Everett. But then, Everett is a judge, and Noah is in a quasi-law enforcement field himself.

“Nope.” He tosses in another several apples, and our basket is already filled a good foot. “Vermont born and raised. Grew up in Hollyhock, moved to Fallbrook when I was in high school.” His affect hardens. Whatever happened in Fallbrook wasn’t a good thing.

“Wow, we we’re practically neighbors.” I toss another pink apple his way. This time far softer, more as a peace offering than a taunt. “So, did you move to Cincinnati for work? Or love?” A handsome man like Noah couldn’t possibly stay single for long. And that pained look in his eyes when he spoke of no one wanting him in Ohio was a glaring arrow toward a broken heart. A part of me hurts for him. I know that pain, and I wouldn’t wish that kind of agony on my worst enemy.

Noah blows a breath through his cheeks as we pick up the basket and move to the next tree over. “Both I guess. Honestly, it was just for love. I had a pretty great job in Vermont. Had a great one in Ohio until I didn’t.”

“Did they let you go?” I head over to a stepladder and hike up on the first rung before reaching for the highest fruit I can.

“If let go is the same as being fired, then yes.”

I turn my full attention to him once again and suck in a quick breath. “You were fired?” My mouth falls open with a smile.

“Does this please you in some twisted way?” His brows do a little dance before narrowing into a V, and something deep inside of me wholeheartedly approves of that vexingly handsome look.

“Only because you seem so perfect.” Now it’s me scowling at him. “But I’m sorry to hear it. Can I ask—what in the world did you do to deserve the chopping block?”

Noah purses his lips as he looks to the east, and the sunlight cuts through his eyes making them glow like emeralds on fire.

It occurs to me that Noah might not be up for sharing—that he might not have ever shared the dark circumstances that surround his time in Cincinnati. Whatever happened there was bad. I already know that.

“It’s okay”— I reach out and brush my fingers against his chest—“you don’t need to go there.”

“No, it’s fine. Really.” He winces into the sun a moment, and I can’t help but note that standing on this first rung puts us eye to eye. My gaze dips to his mouth a moment, and I admire how perfectly formed his lips are. “I was a homicide detective on the force. Found my wife with another man and my temper got away from me one night. I shot out the back tires of his car with my weapon, and that was that. Had my badge suspended indefinitely.”

“Oh, wow.” My heart thumps wild at the visual. Noah doesn’t strike me as the angry type, but under those circumstances, who could blame him? “I’m sorry to hear it. That must have been very hard for you.”

“Getting fired? Yes, it was.” He slaps the back of his neck and gives it a scratch. “The breakup was a little tough, too. Didn’t see it coming.”

I let go of a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I didn’t either.” The words string from my lips before I can stop them. It was never my intention to say it. I have no plans on extrapolating on what went on in New York. There are some wounds that feel raw long after they should have healed. Mine was one of them, and judging by that look in Noah’s eyes, so was his.

He takes up my hand and pulls me to him by my fingers. His eyes stay trained on mine, sincere and serious. “I’m sorry to hear that, Lottie. I would never want you to feel that.”

“It wasn’t fun.”

The two of us sway toward one another, and my eyes expand as he comes in close. Noah Fox has a way about him that is larger than life. For sure he’s far too handsome for me to comprehend that he’s standing here with me on purpose. There is not a planet in the solar system that I would think a man like Noah would be interested in someone like me.

A blustery wind picks up and sends me toppling onto his chest, and I freeze. Noah’s lips flicker with the faintest smile, and he ever so carefully bows his head toward mine.

We’re going to do it. It’s going to happen. Noah Fox is going to go for the gold and is about to grace my lips with his. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to stop him. What’s a simple kiss going to hurt? But I think we both know there’s nothing simple about a kiss.

A small crowd moves in and starts to liven up the vicinity, filling it thick with bodies.

I pull back as Noah and I share an uneasy glance.

“We should finish up—” I shrug.

“With the apples.” A slight dimple goes off in his left cheek, and my insides dissolve at the sight of it. So not fair.

Noah and I fill that basket to the brim and each grabs a handle to take back to the barn.

“Hey, Holland,” I say, breathless as we come upon my old friend. “Got a bushel of apples ready to go. How much do I owe?”

Holland cuts his hand through the air. “You just keep turning those apples into caramel gold. Those pies were a hit with both the staff and family.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.” I take a step toward the counter. Holland is a tall man with red curly hair and perpetually tanned skin. He’s a sweetheart and easy on the eyes. It’s exactly why Meg fell so hard for him.

“Sorry about Merilee.” He shakes his head while looking from me to Noah. “But it wasn’t your pie that killed her. Your pies are welcome at the Apple Festival, and I have no doubt they’re going to be a big hit.”

I glance to Noah for a moment, and he gives a subtle nod.

“Say”—I start slow—“you wouldn’t happen to know what Merilee was doing here that afternoon, do you?” I seem to vaguely recall something about a craft booth, but there’s a murderer on the loose and I’m hoping Holland might know something.

He tips his head back a moment while tossing his gaze in the direction of the spot we found Merilee. Correction—I found Merilee.

“She and Mora swung by to speak with my sister, Tara.”

“About a booth for the festival?” As soon as I give him the out, I regret it. There’s a look in his eyes that suggests it was a little more complicated than that.

“No, they’ve already paid their table fee.” He looks to Noah. “Tara’s an attorney. They said they wanted legal advice.”

“Legal advice? We had gone to court that morning. They lost the verdict. The judge said they didn’t have a case. I can’t imagine what they could have wanted to discuss with her.”

Holland shakes his head. “I can’t answer that. Tara’s in Ashford today. I can tell her to give you a call if you want.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Holland picks up the apples. “Is that your truck out there?” he calls out to Noah as he makes his way toward the parking lot.

“Sure is,” Noah shouts back, and soon enough Holland is out the door and setting them in the back of Noah’s flatbed.

Noah and I make our way to the side of the barn to the exact place where Merilee Simonson met her demise and gaze down at the earth covered with leaves and a small floral arrangement of mums and asters. It feels solemn, holy.

Noah places his hand over my shoulder and leans in. “What kind of legal advice do you think they were after?”

Their odd cousin, Cascade, comes to mind, and I relay it to Noah as best as I can recall. “She said all of her relatives were dead except for Mora. Cascade is the reason I was being evicted to begin with.”

“Do you know what she’s doing in town?”

“No clue.”

His face smooths out, and I can see the kernel of an idea brewing in his eyes. “Then that’s exactly what we need to find out.”