The Edge of Forever (Hope Creek #4)

Prologue

Ashlyn

My phone rings in my hand, and I answer with a smile as I lift it to my ear.

“Hey. I thought I was the one who was always late,” I tease with a laugh. “I’m outside. Are you almost here?”

“I’m sorry, Ash,” Ivy says, her voice tinged with frustration. “I’m stuck at an open house. The alarm won’t set, and I can’t leave until it’s sorted.”

“Oh,” I murmur, my smile slipping away.

“I’m trying to get there, I swear. I’m just waiting to hear back from the engineer.”

“So… there’s still a chance?” I ask hopefully.

“I’m doing everything I can, I promise. I feel awful. I know you were only doing this for me.”

She sounds genuinely upset that she’s not here, and I can’t help but feel bad for her.

“I’ll save you a spot. Just let me know how things go.”

“I will. And Ash? I really am sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. It’s not like this is your fault. If you can’t make it, I’ll just fill you in on everything I learn.”

She laughs. “Oh, no! Now I definitely hope I make it. I’d rather not risk food poisoning.”

“Hey!” I protest. “I’m not that bad!”

She laughs again. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I could argue, but honestly, she’s not wrong.

“I’ve got to go,” she says hurriedly. “I’m getting another call.”

“Okay. I’ll speak to you later.” I end the call, slipping my phone into my purse.

With a steadying breath, I turn and push open the door to Stonewood Kitchen, a culinary school in Prescott, a town about thirty minutes from Hope Creek, that offers cooking classes for beginners.

Ivy had been wanting to sign up for a session for ages.

And while I probably do need lessons, cooking has never exactly been my idea of fun.

Still, I caved after she pestered me non-stop. And now? It looks like I’m doing it alone.

“Hi there,” says the smiling woman behind the reception desk. “Can I help you?”

I return the smile. “Yes, I’m booked in for the 7:30 beginners class. Ashlyn Brookes. My friend’s running late. Actually, she might not make it at all.”

She glances at the screen in front of her and nods. “Ivy James, right?”

I nod. “That’s her.”

“No problem. If she turns up, I’ll send her in. The class is just through that door.” She gestures to the left.

“Thanks,” I say, heading in the direction she pointed.

As I step through the door, I pause to look around.

The space is bright and well arranged, with six double workstations set in a semi-circle facing a larger central station, likely where the instructor teaches.

Each station has two tabletop hobs, a shared sink, and a selection of high-end utensils neatly arranged on the counter.

A few people are already here, most of them paired up, and judging by the easy chatter and shared glances, I’m guessing this place is a popular date night spot. Not that I’d know. It's been so long since my last date, I think I’ve forgotten what to do.

I spot two empty stations and head toward one, tucking my purse beneath the counter. There’s a white apron folded on top, and I slip it over my head.

“Ashlyn?” a voice calls out.

I glance up and freeze.

It’s Ben Murphy. My boss. And the man I’ve had a hopeless crush on since he took on the role of principal at Hope Creek Elementary a few months ago. Not that he knows, of course. Why would he? It’s not like I’d ever actually tell him.

“Ben, hi,” I say, quickly shifting my focus to the apron straps as I fumble to tie them around my waist.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he says, glancing around the room. “Are you on your own?”

I nod. “My friend was supposed to come, but she got stuck at work.” I hesitate, then ask. “What about you?” I hope he’s not here on a date.

He shakes his head. “Just me. Want to share a station?”

I glance toward the empty station. I should say no in case Ivy shows up. The idea of spending the class next to him when we’ve only ever spent time together at faculty meetings and coffee breaks in the teachers' lounge is too tempting to pass up.

“Sure,” I say with a small smile. “But just a heads-up... I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

He chuckles, and the sound sends a flutter straight to my stomach.

“You mean like when you nearly burned down the teachers’ lounge with a microwave burrito?” he says, grinning. “Yeah, I kinda guessed.”

My cheeks flush with heat, and I quickly glance away. “Okay, in my defense, those smoke alarms are way too sensitive.”

“Oh, totally,” he says, amusement clear in his voice. “Could have happened to anyone.” He pauses, then adds with a wink, “Doesn’t mean it has, though.”

I groan and drop my head into my hands for a second before looking up. Ben just smirks, and hell if it doesn’t look good on him.

I let out a quiet laugh, brushing it off like it’s nothing, even as my face burns hotter than the burrito I nearly set on fire. “I can’t believe you’re dragging up the burrito incident. I was pretty sure we had a silent pact to never speak of that again.”

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Did we?”

I look away, partly because of the heat creeping up my neck, and partly because it’s impossible to hold that gaze for long without melting. “I mean... I thought we did. Clearly, I was wrong.”

He chuckles and lifts both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Truce. I promise to never mention it again.”

“Good,” I say, tossing him the spare apron. “Put this on.”

I watch as he slips it over his head and ties it around his waist, then steps in beside me at the station. He stands close, and a hint of his woodsy cologne drifts over to me. He smells incredible.

“I’m assuming your kitchen skills aren’t exactly fireproof either, considering you signed up for a beginners’ class,” I tease, giving him a playful side glance.

He pauses. “That’s fair. But at least I can handle a microwave.”

A slow, smug smile tugs at his lips, and I cross my arms, giving him a mock glare. “You just said you weren’t going to bring that up again.”

He bumps my shoulder gently with his. “Relax, Ash,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I’m just teasing you.”

His breath grazes the spot just beneath my ear, and it’s completely overwhelming.

A shiver ripples down my spine before I can stop it.

And now I’m struggling to remember how to breathe.

An hour later, nothing has caught fire. It’s a miracle, really. I concentrate on moving the vegetables around the pan, noticing that they’re golden and crisp; just how the instructor said they should be. I think I might actually be doing this right.

“You do know you’re cooking vegetables and not defusing a bomb?” Ben says from the side of me, amusement in his voice as he looks into the pan.

“What? I ask, turning to look at him, not realizing he was standing so close. The move leaves us millimeters apart, and my heart races at the closeness.

“You’re staring at that pan like it holds something precious,” he says with a grin.

“It is precious. If I burn these, the whole dish will be ruined.”

“There’s a fire extinguisher behind us, just in case.”

He chuckles, and I playfully glare at him before flicking my head to where his pan sizzles on the other hob. “Noted. How’s the sauce looking?”

“Pretty good, I think. Want to try?”

Before I can respond, he grabs a spoon from his pan and holds it out to me, his palm underneath.

I take the spoon, my lips brushing over it as I taste the sauce. My eyes widen. “You made this? It’s really good, Ben.”

He nods, clearly pleased. “Thanks. Now, let me try a vegetable.”

I wave him off. “I just sautéed them. Doesn’t quite count as making a sauce from scratch.”

He frowns. “Don’t put yourself down. You’re doing great.”

I stick out my tongue. “You’re doing better.”

He sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “Alright, confession time. This isn’t my first class.”

My mouth drops open. “How many have you been to?”

“A few,” he admits sheepishly. “My parents brought me the first as a gift, and I enjoyed it, so I kept enrolling in more.”

“So, you’re almost as much of a pro as the pro,” I tease.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Hardly. But I’ve definitely picked up a thing or two.” He pauses, then asks, “So, what made you sign up for the class?”

I laugh. “Wasn’t the burrito disaster enough?”

He grins. “Well, I know most of these classes have waiting lists, and the incident, which we definitely don’t talk about anymore, was only a couple of weeks ago. So, there must be another reason. What else have you managed to burn?”

I chuckle. “Nothing too crazy. Okay, maybe everything from toast to pasta. But it was my friend who booked it. I was just dragged along.”

“So, you didn’t want to come?”

“Not especially,” I admit, pausing. “But I’m glad I did. Turns out, cooking can actually be fun.”

Especially when I’m cooking with him.

“I’m glad too, Ash,” Ben says, his voice low and sincere.

The gentle sizzle of the pans interrupts the moment, and I shift my focus back to the vegetables, giving them a stir just to keep my hands busy.

“Hard to believe we’re just over a week out from Christmas break,” I say, glancing over at him.

He nods. “I know. This year’s flown by. Got anything planned?”

“Just some nights out in Eden, my brother’s bar in Hope Creek, and I’ll be heading to my parents’ place on Christmas Day. It’ll be a full house. Two of my brothers have partners now, so it’ll be loud and chaotic. Just the way I love it.”

His brows lift in surprise. “Two of your brothers? How many do you have?”

“Four,” I say with a grin. “All older. I’m the baby of the family.”

Ben laughs. “That must’ve been... fun growing up.”

I roll my eyes with a smile. “Oh, you have no idea. What about you?” I ask. “Any big plans?”

He nods slightly. “Yeah, I’ll be spending it with my parents too.”

“Back in Phoenix?” I ask, remembering that’s where he moved from before taking the principal job.

He shakes his head. “They’re actually in River Falls. That’s why I moved. My dad’s health hasn’t been great, and traveling back and forth from Phoenix was getting tough.”

“I’m sorry, Ben. That must be hard.”