Ready to Fall by Daisy Prescott Read Free Book Online

years ago, but didn’t brag about. For one thing, I didn’t want word getting out we were a source for free wood, cause firewood isn’t our business. Second, people tend to take advantage of generosity. Messed up, but true.
    The storm let up in the afternoon, but I still dropped off a few loads of firewood at the end of the day. Left them on the porches or filled empty wood holders on my usual route. No thanks needed or expected.
    Arriving home, I could see the power was back on at Diane’s. The early evening darkness highlighted the glow from lamps in her living room flowing out onto the lawn. I debated for about a minute before deciding to check on her.
    The chords of classic rock sounded through the front door when I knocked.
    Diane clearly hadn’t expected company. The baggy gray sweater had been replaced by a tight long sleeve T-shirt and what Maggie always called yoga pants. The curves I suspected where hidden under the oversize sweater were on display. And what curves they were.
    A cough brought my eyes up to hers. “Um, hi.”
    I knew I’d been busted. Meeting her eyes, I could see the delight in them.
    “Hey.”
    “Um, hey. Just checking to make sure you’re okay. Power came back on about five this morning.”
    “Hey, thanks. Come on in. Unless you’re a vampire.” She raised an eyebrow and waited, her lips twitching to fight back a smile.
    “Nope, not a vampire.” I smiled and her own smile broke free.
    “Good, come on in. I’m making dinner.”
    “Doesn’t smell like anything’s burning.” I walked down the hall into the airy living room, sniffing the air. Some kind of stew simmered on the stove in the open kitchen, and I could smell something baking in the oven.
    She padded over to stir the stew. “That’s a relief. I was afraid it would smell of smoke in here forever. Lesson learned, though,” she said, pointing at the fire in the wood stove.
    “Fire going, dinner cooking, and whatever smells amazing in the oven, looks like you’ve settled in to living here.”
    “I have. I can’t believe it’s only been a few weeks, but this place feels more like home than my co-op ever did. Want to stay and eat? I made stew and there are biscuits in the oven.”
    “Stew and biscuits sound amazing. Are you sure you’re a snooty city girl? This is simple fare.”
    She laughed at my teasing. “I’m a simple girl at heart. Guess I forgot along the way.”
    “I need to let Babe out. He’s been cooped up all day.”
    “Bring him over. I’m sure he knows the run of the house over here.”
    After letting Babe out, we walked back to the house. Diane had set the dining table. I guess old patterns died hard.
    “I brought a bottle of Pinot.” I set the bottle down on the counter.
    “Thanks, but I love beer with stew. You can have either.”
    I liked this stew and beer Diane and smiled. “Beer’s fine.”
    Steam rose from the stew as we ate dinner. Conversation didn’t lag between us, but no great personal revelations either. We talked about storms and our dependence on modern conveniences. I teased her about winning me over through my stomach when she brought over an apple crisp from the counter.
    “I wasn’t expecting company. I’m embarrassed to admit all this would have been for me. There would’ve been leftovers all week. I don’t know how to cook for one,” she said.
    “I’m happy to help out any time. I was spoiled by your predecessor, who’s a food blogger. She was always trying out new recipes on me. I’ll never forget the tea brined chicken. It tasted, um, interesting.”
    “You don’t seem the fancy food type of guy.”
    “What was your first clue?” I asked.
    “Well, you appear pretty straightforward all around. Sturdy work clothes because you need them. A truck which functions more than impresses. Loyal dog. It’s all without pretense.”
    I glanced at my Carhartt jacket thrown on the stool and down at my jean covered legs. Flannel shirt, thermal underneath. “I’d