Release Tour, Exclusive Excerpt & Giveaway:
Forbidden in the Falls by J.E. Birk
Devon Falls Series, Book 2
Universal Link
Amazon
Add to Goodreads
“What is this place? Where are we? I thought you said we were going to get something to eat.”
Malachai stares around him in awe as I wind the Rover up a dirt road we turned onto about a half mile or so back. The gravely surface crunches below our wheels and the colors of the changing trees seem to grow brighter and even more vivid as we climb higher into the foothills of the Vermont mountains.
“We are,” I answer him mildly as I guide the vehicle around a large pothole. “I’m taking you to the restaurant where Jack and Milo convinced me to come stay in Vermont.”
Malachai turns to me, his eyes wide. “Sir, I thought you meant we’d pick up hamburgers.”
I shrug. “They have excellent burgers, if that’s what you prefer to eat tonight. Steakburgers, really. I think they may be wagyu? Tom is always better than me at remembering those details.”
“I—sir, I—” Malachai’s eyes are wide, his face almost pale with fear, and immediately I rush to assuage his concerns. I place my hand on his knee and rub it gently. “Don’t worry about the money. Dinner tonight is on me. A thank you, if you will.”
“Thank you? But I should be the one thanking you! You let me live in your house rent-free. You just drove me all the way to Burlington, and I haven’t even given you gas money yet! You—”
“You do more for me than you can imagine,” I tell him firmly, determined to end this conversation. The place I’m taking Malachai is special, and I would hate for his worries over debts—monetary or otherwise—to ruin this experience. “The restaurant I’m taking you to is owned by Imbari Olsson, a Nigerian-Swedish chef who moved to Vermont shortly before I did. She’s Michelin-starred. Have you heard of her?” Malachai shakes his head.
“She says she got tired of the grind in New York City and wanted to start fresh. So she bought this property, not too far from Devon Falls, and she opened up a restaurant by the river here. She’s open very few days a week, and right now her clientele is largely Burlington tourists who’ve followed her career, but I suspect she’s about to have many, many more customers than that. She’s selling her spicy jollof meatballs at the leaf festival this year.” I guide the Rover up a driveway and park in front of a large barn with a sign that says River’s End Eating above the door.
“Oh, wow.” Malachai pushes his door open and steps out of the car, already entranced. I understand why: I, too, felt as though I’d stepped into the most magical part of Vermont when I first arrived at this place. Tables settled inside of long, tall tents line the edge of a rushing stream across the lawn from us. Twinkling fairy lights circle the barn and the top and sides of the tent covers, creating an ethereal, fairy-like vision in the falling twilight of the Vermont sky. The nearly-fallen sunset behind us only adds to the perfection of the moment, as though the world is falling into a trance of its own beauty and color.
“Dr. Evers.” Malachai breathes the words more than says them. He takes another step closer toward the edge of the lawn, and I let myself swim in the awe and delight of his expression.
If I do nothing else good or important in my life, at least I will be able to say that I helped to place that expression upon Malachai Flynn’s face.
I step up beside him and place a hand on the small of his back. “I was able to get us a table for two right there, right on the water,” I tell him, pointing out a set place for two with a candle of some kind lighting the space between the two seats. “Now, let’s go see about—”
I don’t even finish the words before Malachai turns and grabs me around the middle, pushing himself up on his toes to push his lips into mine and take me in a nearly crushing kiss. I don’t bother to pretend that I don’t want to engage with him in this, and I kiss him back with equal strength, exploring more and more of his mouth with my own as the night and moment swirl about us in this clear and presently perfect moment.
And I do something I rarely do: I close off all the voices in my head and let myself enjoy it.
Eventually we break apart. I take Malachai’s hand, letting the moment between us linger, and lead him to the host stand. We’re shown to our table, and so begins the most perfect dinner I’ve had in a very, very long time.
“This is where you decided to come live in Vermont temporarily?” Malachai asks me as we engage in a soup that somehow combines flavors of Nigeria and northern Europe with, incredibly, maple syrup. “Holy shit, that’s good.”
“I keep waiting for your eyes to roll back in your head,” I tell him, much more delighted than amused. “Yes, it is. I’d been hedging for quite some time, determined not to leave my apartment. My comfort zone, I suppose. Then, on one of my weekend trips here with Milo, Jack’s father insisted we all try this new spot together.”
Malachai nods as he slurps at his soup, his expression pure bliss. I know that expression. I understand it.
“I loved the food immediately, just as much as you are now. I loved the space, the sound of the rushing river, the feel of it all.” I smile at the memory as Malachai devours the agege bread on the table. “I spoke to the chef afterward. She told me she came here for a fresh start. She’d been burnt out by the restaurant industry, the speed of it all. She came here, and for the first time, she said, she felt alive again.” Malachai reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. “I felt that way too,” I tell him softly. “I knew I could only come here for a short time, and Jack and Milo convinced me to try. I rented the farmhouse the next week.”
Malachai frowns. “Why only a short time?” he asks. “You seem to like Devon Falls a lot, Sam. Why are you going to leave right after the wedding and the festival? I bet Jack and Marie would love to have you work at the office full time.”
I push my spoon around in circles in my soup bowl. “Because some mistakes don’t deserve to be forgiven that easily,” I finally say softly.
Malachai’s eyebrows go up.
“But I don’t want to talk about that right now,” I say quickly, determined not to ruin anything about the perfect evening I hope to give Malachai here. “Tell me what you like best about that bread.”
Malachai presses his lips together for a moment before he finally nods. “Well, I think it’s the texture I like best…”
The evening spirals from there in a spattering of so many tiny, perfect moments. Entrees that leave Malachai breathless with excitement; a dessert course which, he claims, is the best thing he’s ever eaten. A short, quiet walk by the lights next to the river on the way back to the car, where we hold hands again and say nothing but small words that feel so large under a clear and starry sky. The rest of the drive back to Devon Falls is filled with easy, comfortable small talk of state cows and difficult patients. And then we find our way to my house—or our house, as it’s certainly starting to feel like now—and Malachai laces his hand with mine as we walk up the driveway.
We step through the front door, and he says the words before I can: “Can we go to your bedroom together?”
After that, it’s as though we’re caught in a riptide of sensation and feeling and action. We trip up the stairs together, with him unbuttoning my shirt and me grabbing at the belt of his pants, until we’re at the edge of my large, king-size bed and Malachai’s gripping at the tails of my previously buttoned green collared shirt. “Sir.” He whispers the word into the cool air drifting through the window: one syllable that latches to the swirling energy around us.
“You’re mine tonight,” I tell him. “Until you tell me to stop, you’re mine.”
To celebrate the release of Forbidden At The Falls, J.E. Birk is giving away a $20 Amazon Voucher!
Enter the Rafflecopter giveaway for your chance to win!
About the Author:
J.E. Birk was raised in Vermont and is now adulting in Colorado with intermittent success. She is a long-time lover of stories, and she writes and reads in worlds where imperfect characters find their happily ever after. Snag free bonus content and stay up-to-date on J.E. Birk’s news and releases by signing up for her newsletter at www.jebirk.com.
Connect with J.E.:
Instagram: @jebirkwrites
TikTok: @jebirkwrites
Facebook: J.E. Birk
Newsletter: https://view.flodesk.com/pages/63ab229461b8cd734be0c630
