Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
E lla balanced her shopping basket against her hip as she studied the tea selection at Barnes’ General Store. After last night’s storm and conversation with Tom, she hadn’t slept well. Maybe chamomile would help, though nothing seemed quite right. The store’s ancient ceiling fans whirred overhead, creating a drowsy afternoon atmosphere that matched her mood.
“The lavender blend is better for sleeping.”
She turned to find Tom himself reaching past her for coffee filters, close enough that she caught the scent of sawdust and something uniquely him. He looked as tired as she felt, though it somehow just made him more handsome.
“Speaking from experience?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light despite her suddenly racing heart.
“Let’s just say I’ve tried them all.” His smile was self-deprecating. “Tough guys has his sleepless nights too.”
“Ah yes, the famous Dalton stoicism.” She selected the lavender tea, her basket tipping precariously as she added it to her already overflowing collection. “How’s that working out for you?”
“About as well as your ‘I can handle everything myself’ act is working for you.”
She blinked, surprised by his candor. Then she noticed his barely concealed grin and felt warmth spread through her chest. This playful side of him was new, and she liked it more than she probably should.
“Touché,” she admitted. “Though I’ll have you know I’m getting better at accepting help.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at her overloaded basket, where various items threatened to make a break for freedom. “Is that why you’re attempting to carry half the store by yourself?”
“I like a challenge.”
“Clearly.” He took the basket from her before she could protest, his fingers brushing hers in a way that sent tingles up her arm. “Consider this practice in accepting assistance.”
They wandered the aisles together, Tom pointing out local specialties with surprising knowledge. He steered her away from Mrs. Henderson’s sister-in-law’s infamous jam (“Trust me, your taste buds will thank you”), recommended Old Joe’s honey for her tea (“His bees are partial to the wildflowers up by the creek”), and shared the store’s unofficial map of which floorboards to avoid (“That one’s been creaky since the Carter administration”).
“How do you know all this?” she asked, watching him navigate the narrow aisles with an ease she envied.
“Survival skills.” He caught her skeptical look. “Small towns have their own rules. Took me a while to learn them. Made every rookie mistake possible.”
“You? Mr. Security Expert? I find that hard to believe.”
“Asked for hot sauce at the diner my first week here.” He shuddered dramatically. “Old Mr. Parker still gives me disapproving looks.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. Nearly caused an international incident. Or at least a county-wide one.”
Her laugh echoed through the quiet store, drawing a smile from Cedar Barnes at the register. She noticed how Tom’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he really smiled, how his whole face softened when he wasn’t trying to maintain his serious image.
At the counter, Cedar rang them up with knowing looks that Ella studiously ignored, though she couldn’t help noticing how he slipped an extra cookie into her bag with a wink. The whole town seemed determined to... what? Match-make? Meddle? Make her feel welcome?
Tom insisted on carrying her bags to her car, their arms brushing occasionally as they walked through the late afternoon sunlight. The air was heavy with the scent of late summer flowers from Sage’s garden next door.
“Thank you,” she said as he loaded the groceries into her trunk with careful precision. “For the help and the local intel.”
“Anytime.” He hesitated, one hand still on her grocery bag. “Actually, if you’re not busy... there’s a good place for dinner just outside town. Nothing fancy, but they make decent burgers. If you’re interested.”
Ella’s heart stuttered. Was this...? Did he mean...?
“As friends,” he added quickly, then looked like he wished he hadn’t.
“Right,” she said, equally quickly. “Friends. That would be... nice.”
Their eyes met, and something electric passed between them that felt nothing like friendship. The late sun caught his eyes, making them impossibly blue.
“Unless...” Tom started.
“Unless?” Her voice came out breathier than intended.
A car horn blared nearby, making them both jump. The moment fractured, leaving them standing awkwardly by her open trunk while Mrs. Henderson’s ancient Buick wheezed past, its driver pretending not to watch them with avid interest.
“So,” Tom cleared his throat. “Dinner?”
“Dinner,” she agreed, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. “Lead the way, tough guy.”
His laugh was warm and genuine, making her wonder how many people got to hear it. Making her want to be one of them, more and more often.
Friends or something else, she realized she didn’t really care about the label. She just wanted more moments like this—quiet understanding, shared laughter, and the promise of something deeper neither of them was quite ready to name.
Even if that meant navigating small-town politics one jar of questionable jam at a time.
The River’s Edge Restaurant lived up to its name, perched on a bluff overlooking the water. Tom had chosen a corner table with a view of both the sunset and the entrance—old habits—but Ella found the combination of security and romance oddly endearing. Candlelight flickered between them, casting warm shadows across the table’s polished wood.
“This is lovely,” she said, taking in the exposed wooden beams and soft lighting. “I didn’t even know this place existed.”
“Local secret.” Tom seemed more relaxed here, away from the watchful eyes of Harmony Falls. His shoulders had lost their usual tension, and he’d rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms that Ella tried not to stare at. “Sometimes you need a break from...”
“The MacGregors?” she suggested with a smile.
His answering laugh was warm, transforming his whole face. “I was going to say ‘small-town attention,’ but yeah, them too. Though they’d probably find us even here.”
“They do have an uncanny knack for appearing at significant moments.”
“Speaking of which...” Tom nodded toward their server, who was heading their way with an extra spring in her step. “Vivian’s cousin. We’ll be town gossip by dessert.”
“Bold of you to assume we’re having dessert,” Ella teased, but her heart fluttered at the implication of staying, of stretching this evening out as long as possible.
After they ordered, Ella watched Tom scan the room automatically, checking exits and sightlines. The habit should have made her sad, knowing what caused it, but instead she felt a surge of affection for his protective instincts.
“You do that a lot,” she observed. “Look after people.”
He shifted, looking almost embarrassed. “Force of habit.”
“It’s nice. Even if the MacGregors drive you crazy with it.”
“They mean well.” His expression softened, and he toyed with his water glass. “They’ve been good to me, actually. When I first moved here, I wasn’t in a great place. They just... decided I was family. Didn’t give me much choice in the matter.”
“They’re good at that,” Ella agreed. “The adopting strays part.”
“Are we the strays in this scenario?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Their laughter mingled with the sound of the river below. The setting sun painted everything in gold, making Tom’s eyes impossibly blue. A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the distant murmur of other diners and the gentle clinking of silverware.
“What made you choose Harmony Falls?” she asked softly. “Really?”
He considered his answer carefully, and she appreciated that about him—how he never rushed his words, never said anything he didn’t mean.
“Needed somewhere quiet at first,” he said finally. “Somewhere to... rebuild, I guess. Found more than that. Found a place where people look out for each other, even if they’re nosy about it. Where everyone knows everyone else’s business, but they use that knowledge to help, not hurt.”
“Like when Mrs. Henderson’s arthritis acts up, and mysteriously, her walkway gets shoveled before she wakes up?”
“Or when someone’s car breaks down, and half the town shows up to help?” His eyes met hers meaningfully.
“The MacGregors’ influence?”
“The whole town, really. But yeah, them especially. They’re... persistent in their caring.”
“Like someone else I know,” she said softly.
Their eyes met across the table, and something shifted between them. This wasn’t a usual friendly dinner. This was...more.
Ella noticed how Tom’s hand had drifted closer to hers on the table, not quite touching but definitely intentional. The intimacy of the moment caught in her throat.
“I understand it now,” she said. “Why you stay. Why you let them meddle and fuss. It’s not just about the town being safe.”
“No?”
“It’s about belonging. Even when you’re not sure you deserve to.”
Tom’s fingers brushed hers, feather-light but deliberate. “You deserve to belong, Ella.”
The simple sincerity in his voice made her heart skip. Their food arrived—perfect timing or horrible timing, she wasn’t sure which. The aromas of herb-crusted salmon and grilled steak filled the air, but Ella barely noticed what she was eating.
They shared bites of each other’s dishes, talking about the town, their work, the way the MacGregors had somehow turned what should have been an ordinary movie night into a Highland cultural festival. Each small interaction felt charged with meaning—the brush of fingers as they passed the bread basket, the way Tom’s knee occasionally touched hers under the table, how they kept finding reasons to lean closer across the table.
“They’re ridiculous,” Tom said fondly, watching the sunset paint the river gold.
“But loyal,” Ella noted. “Like you.”
His eyes caught hers again, holding this time. “Getting awfully personal there, Ms. Kingsley.”
“Scared, Mr. Dalton?”
“Terrified,” he admitted, but he was smiling. “You?”
“Maybe a little.” She turned her hand palm up on the table, an invitation. “But maybe that’s okay.”
His fingers interlaced with hers, warm and steady. Outside, the sun set over the river, painting everything in shades of possibility. The candlelight caught the silver of her pendant, making it gleam like a promise.
Neither of them mentioned the word ‘date.’ Neither of them needed to.
Some things were understood in the spaces between words, in gentle touches and shared smiles, in the way they both knew this was just the beginning of something neither of them was quite ready to name.
But they were ready to try.