Chapter 1
One
“Some doors open with a smile. Others with a stare that unravels everything you thought you wanted.”—Aria Boschett.
Lively chatter swirls around me, aligning with the setting sun that paints Crescent Bay gold.
The small-town ambiance is charming, I can’t help myself scanning the booths, the banners, the crowd—then remembering Hayden is with me.
He strolls beside me, his slim frame and confident stride drawing admiring glances from passersby.
He thrives on it, flashing a practiced, easy smile, a Boston city boy to his core.
“When are you heading back to Boston?” I ask.
“Hey, Hayden!” A woman passing by practically purrs his name, her eyes sparkling. Hayden flashes his signature grin, his gaze flickering to her.
As they talk, the scent of popcorn and candied apples fills the crisp autumn air, mixing with the hum of a live band.
Vibrant pumpkin streamers dance overhead, the wind tugging at them like playful fingers.
Despite my weeks here, Crescent Bay still feels surreal, so different from the electric rush of Chicago.
A quaint charm wraps around the town, pulling me into its world.
Hayden’s tug on my hand snaps my attention as he pulls me toward a booth displaying local arts and crafts. “Come, Aria, check this out.”
My eyes lock on a hand-carved wooden dove, the intricate details calling to me. I reach out, tracing my fingers over its lifelike feather wings. “Hayden, look, isn’t it unique? So lifelike.”
He barely spares the dove a glance while adjusting his hair in a nearby mirror.
“Nice, but nowhere near as captivating as you.” Why the hell did he pull me over here if he wasn’t interested in the carvings?
Even the mirror he’s using has outstanding craftsmanship.
The frame has an aged wood look, and the floral and swirling vines speak to the skill of the craftsman.
Before I can ask about the dove, he pulls me away again, guiding me deeper into the festival, where the music pulses louder.
“Hayden, you finally made it. Thought you chickened out,” Earl greets him with a slap on his arm. To my surprise, Hayden has accepted Earl’s challenge of a pie-eating contest.
With a quick peck on my cheek, he says, “be right back… babe watch me win this.” Hayden strides toward the makeshift stage, rolling up his sleeves.
“Ladies and gentlemen, prepare for the most delicious battle of the night! May the best pie-eater feast their way to glory, not just a food coma!” The announcer, a rotund man with a jolly grin, rubs his belly.
The crowd erupts in laughter and cheers.
The announcer moves around, asking each contestant how they plan to eat the win.
Hayden takes the mic. “This is going to be a piece of cake... or pie, in this case.” Groans and chuckles follow.
I must admit, the playful side of Hayden is endearing.
As the contest begins, Hayden’s focus sharpens, competitive instinct igniting with each enthusiastic forkful.
The thick crust crumbles as whipped cream splatters onto his cheekbones and the bib he wore to protect his clothing.
He shoots me a triumphant look mid-bite, and I laugh.
The contest ends with Hayden raising his fork in victory.
“You see? Even a businessman can dominate a pie-eating contest! Come, try your luck.” The announcer says as Hayden basks in his victory.
The aroma of maple candy drifts over from a nearby vendor, and nostalgia draws me over.
Buying a bag, I pop a piece of the maple taffy into my mouth, and the buttery sweetness transports me back to my grandmother’s kitchen.
Lazy Saturday mornings. Stacks of golden almond pancakes and warm maple syrup.
Her laughter curled around me like a lullaby.
The warmth of the memory twists into longing, leaving a guilty ache deep in my chest before a sharp laugh jolts me back.
I turn, spotting Hayden and Earl surrounded by a small group.
The woman from earlier stands right next to him.
This is Hayden; he always seems to draw everyone in.
Turning away from Hayden, I retrace my steps to the craft booth to buy the dove.
As I close in on the booth, I see it hasn’t been sold yet.
Thanking my lucky stars, I reach for it.
But out of nowhere, another much larger hand takes hold of it at the same time.
“I saw it first.” I blurt, then I look up, “—ah.” The most striking icy blue-green eyes I’ve ever seen lock onto mine.
I can’t look away. The man towers over me, all broad shoulders, arm muscles straining beneath his leather jacket.
I cannot help but eye him over, denim clinging to powerful legs.
I notice him doing the same; his gaze drags from my face to our hands, both still cradling the wooden dove.
His gaze is deliberate, unhurried, searing a path down my body.
It lingers just long enough to make my skin prickle, my pulse quicken.
A cold thrill cuts through me. Still, I don’t let go.
I don’t yield. I hold his gaze. “I touched the dove first. It’s mine. ”
“Miss...” The shopkeeper cuts in.
The handsome stranger lifts a hand, silencing him.
“Ah, it’s all good, Harry.” Holy Mary. The lilt and rhythm roll over me.
He’s Irish, straight out of Dublin, and it suits him.
His navy tweed paddy cap sits low on his forehead, only sharpening the hard lines of his face.
A neatly trimmed reddish-brown Van Dyke beard frames his mouth; the faint tug at one corner of his lips gives him an edge.
“I think we touched the dove at the same time, lass.” His eyes glint. “Maybe it’s a sign that luck is on your side… or destiny calling us?”
The way he asks it makes my skin prickle. “Maybe a little of both; I’ve always believed the universe nudges us when we least expect it.” Where the hell did those words come from?
His amused grin deepens. “Then how about a game? If Lady Luck’s backing us tonight, let’s see what else this wild night offers.”
I open my mouth to respond. “Aria!”
Hearing Hayden’s voice has me turning away, spotting him searching the crowd. When he locks eyes with me, he strides in my direction. Shit. I spin back to the stranger. But he’s gone. Only the dove remains in my hand.
Hayden reaches me, his arm resting at the center of my back. “Babe, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
I look up. “Huh… sorry,” and shove the wooden carving toward him and start digging in my purse. “I came back for this. How much?” I ask the vendor.
“Nothing. It’s already paid for. It’s a gift to you for the conversation.” Wait, what? The stranger must have... I almost hand it back, then stop myself.
Hayden takes my hand. “Great, let’s go,” Hayden says and pulls me away.
I trail after him, while awkwardly slipping the little dove into my shoulder bag.
The stranger’s unnerving blue-green eyes are still vivid in my mind as fate nudges me back to Hayden.
With a half-hearted glance over my shoulder, I can’t help but wonder, what was his name?
We stop at the dunking booth, and I keep looking around for the mysterious Irishman, but I don’t see the stranger anywhere.
“Did you see that?” I turn to Hayden, guilt creeping in. I should focus on my boyfriend, not some stranger I just met. I realize Hayden has dunked the guy into the tank of water.
“Good job hon. You seem to fit right in, so good at these games.”
“Aria, babe, once you’ve impressed stockbrokers in Boston, charming a small-town crowd is a walk in the park.”
As we walk along, another booth owner pulls his attention. “Step right up and win a prize!”
Hayden accepts the challenge without hesitation. With a flick of his wrist, he wins a large plush bear on his first try. He turns and hands it to me. “For you, my good-luck charm.”
I give him a quick peck on the lips. “You sure know how to win hearts! Any more tricks up your sleeve?”
Earl ambles up with his wife Lenora in tow, his beer sloshing in his hand.
I barely know him, Earl is just someone Hayden befriended here in Crescent Bay.
He’s boisterous and unfiltered, the opposite of Hayden’s charm.
“What’s the secret to your success, Hayden?
Come on, just a hint?” Earl slurs clearly, he had too much to drink.
Hayden chuckles and pulls me closer, planting a kiss on my lips. “Okay, just for you, Earl. A lot of it is thanks to my good luck charm here.”
Hayden’s words feel hollow, but I force a smile.
“Thanks, hon.” I press the stuffed bear to my chest, feeling the softness against my palm.
We walk along until we reach the area where the band is playing, couples are dancing and my eyes fall on pumpkin-shaped lanterns strung over the makeshift dance floor, casting a warm, amber light over couples twirling.
A festival banner flutters above the stage, with the name MacBrady stitched boldly across as the sponsor.
It’s a name I’ve seen often, scrawled on business signs in town, and marked on a lot of the accounting files at work.
When I asked my coworker Judith about it, she called the MacBrady men God’s gift to women, total eye candy.
Maybe the stranger from earlier was a MacBrady.
“What’s on your mind, Aria?” Hayden whispers in my ear, startling me from my thoughts as he hands me a full cup of apple cider.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just really enjoying the festival.” It’s not all a lie.
Hayden’s eyes linger on me, and a sly smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he steps closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re beautiful.”
Bringing the cup to my lips, taking a huge gulp of the sweet, crisp cider and summon a smile, willing myself to mean it. “You look…suave as ever, Hayden.”
“How about a dance, babe?”