Chapter 2
Chapter Two
T he October wind whipped Willow’s blonde curls around her face, and she stopped trekking up the mountainside long enough to scrape her hair back into a ponytail.
She took a moment to stand still and enjoy the sunshine. She’d almost crested the ridge that led to No Man’s Land, and from here she could already spot the breathtaking view of the valley below.
Tilting her head back, she grinned up at the sky.
At the very Big Sky.
A little laugh escaped. Every time she came up to No Man’s Land, she was reminded of why this state had earned the Big Sky nickname. Alone like this, it was impossible not to be swept up in the heady joy that came with this view.
Kinda like falling in love, she imagined.
Of course, Willow had no firsthand knowledge of love, but she suspected it came close to the swelling happiness she felt whenever she took this walk and experienced God’s work.
With another deep inhale, Willow let her smile linger as she put one foot in front of the other until she reached the telltale tree that marked the spot.
Her spot.
Her grin spread as she dropped to her knees. No, not her spot— their spot. Hers and Eric’s.
They were the only two people who even knew about the hidden treasure, so far as she was aware. Willow had been the one to find the stashed letters, trinkets, and recipe cards, but Eric had stumbled upon her and her loot while on a run.
It was a mini miracle Eric hadn’t done something shady with the treasure. At the time, she wouldn’t have put it past him.
They’d both known how valuable this treasure could be.
Not in terms of money—it wasn’t like they’d found gold or jewels.
But with the legal battle raging over who owned No Man’s Land, both their families would have killed to get their hands on something like this, which could have proven they’d had a claim to it first.
But the thing was…the more she and Eric dove into the box of goodies, the more obvious it became that both families could have made that claim. Because there were artifacts from the Spencers and the Kings.
Eventually they’d pieced it together that her ancestor, Charlie King, and his ancestor, Rose Spencer, had been leaving little trinkets for each other. It was obviously a way to communicate, and Willow was determined to believe it had something to do with love.
Eric—Mr. Skeptical—was not so willing to buy into the romance of it all.
But they’d formed a truce, of sorts, until they figured it out. Neither would move the treasure, meddle with it, or use it as a weapon in the ongoing war between their families.
At least, not until they figured out what it all meant.
Willow gingerly brushed aside fallen leaves and dirt to reveal the wooden slats that hid their treasure. Then she gently lifted the lid.
She tried her best not to get her hopes up. After all, Eric had been busier than ever at his lodge this fall, what with the part-time staff going back to school and all, and yet…
A full-on squeal burst out of her at the sight of a new note inside the partially buried treasure chest she shared with Eric Spencer.
It was ridiculous how much fun this was, exchanging notes with a guy she wasn’t even supposed to like.
And she didn’t. Not like that , at least.
“He’s just…not as bad as they think,” she whispered as she pulled out the sheet of paper.
If her sister or brothers had any idea she was befriending a Spencer, they’d lose it.
And the worst part was…she wouldn’t be able to blame them.
She settled with her back against the tree as she took in the forest around her. So beautiful. So peaceful. The only sound was the wind whipping through the treetops and the occasional rustle of branches overhead when a bird landed or a chipmunk scurried away.
No one would guess a beautiful, serene place like this could be the source of so much contention. But it was. Legend had it that there was some sort of written truce between the two families that this stretch of land would remain untouched by both sides.
But now the Spencers were getting greedy. They wanted the property that lined the south shore of the lake, but everyone knew that if they were granted the rights to the land, they’d tear down the trees and build condos for rich tourists.
That would ruin her family’s plan to make a real go of the inn—their grandparents’ old house. Not to mention ruin this pristine stretch of heaven they had here.
If it was just Eric, maybe she could convince him. Her family didn’t think so, but they didn’t know him.
The sad thing was, it wasn’t just him. His father and the rest of his family were obsessed.
Just like her family was so blinded by hatred toward the Spencers, it wouldn’t even occur to them to try and hold an actual conversation.
She let her head fall back. Everything in her was dying to open his note—to devour it. But some part of her wanted to savor it, too, because who knew how long it would be before she got another?
Eric was busy, and it wasn’t like she had all the time in the world to traipse up here either.
It was just so silly that they had to go to these lengths just to talk about their shared obsession—Charlie and Rose.
He’d tried to play it cool in the beginning, but these days he was just as invested as she was.
She let her eyes close, the orange rays of the late-afternoon sun bright against her eyelids and warm against her skin.
For a little while, she played a game, pretending she was back in time and coming up here to leave something special for the boy she loved.
Even back then, the families had been bitter rivals.
No one knew for certain how it started—though both families had their stories. All Willow knew was that by the time Charlie and Rose came along, the feud was well underway, and if they had been secret lovers, they were Paradise Springs’ own Romeo and Juliet.
“And now you’re spinning fairy tales again.”
Her eyes popped open at the clear and distinct sound of Eric’s voice in her head.
She straightened, perturbed at how clearly she’d heard his voice—low, gruff, and gently mocking. And how she’d just known exactly what he’d say.
She glanced down at the note still in her hands.
Huh.
It was possible she’d replayed their real-life run-ins once or twice.
Or…maybe more.
With a shake of her head, she unfolded the stationery. And it was stationery. Like the kind you buy a box of with your initials monogrammed on the envelopes or something.
He’d sprung for actual, thick notepad paper rather than the back of envelopes and scraps of paper she often used.
His handwriting was a manly scrawl—no cutesy swirls or crossed-out words. Like in real life, his letters were decisive, bold, and more than a little cocky.
Willow, Willow, Willow, it started.
She pressed her lips to smother a smile because she could absolutely hear his teasing drawl.
Why does it not surprise me that you are a hopeless romantic?
I’m telling you, though—we Spencers are a practical lot. There’s no way any great-aunt of mine would have thrown away her future. And definitely not for something so fleeting as romance.
No. Don’t even say it. I can see you now as I write this, widening those big blue eyes of yours and pleading the L-word.
Worse yet, I bet you’d use the words “true love.”
And then I’d have to walk away from you and this treasure once and for all. It’s a matter of male pride, mind you. Nothing personal.
Willow giggled before clapping a hand over her mouth. It was true, though. She’d read the word romance and had thought, But what if it was true love?
The note went on for a while. It even ventured into personal territory.
My sister has an opinion on that. She thinks Seattle would be a better place to expand.
You should know that my sister is much like yours.
Stubborn, terrifying, and—uh, uh, uh. Sit back down and put your fists away, little one.
I’m not insulting Bailey, merely stating that if this country were under attack and we badly needed two fierce generals at the helm, I’d offer up both our sisters and say a prayer for the other side.
Willow’s snicker turned into a laugh, and she paused to look around and make sure she was alone before reading the rest…and then the last line…
Until next time, little one.
She felt a warm flush rise within her, and it only grew with intensity when she spotted the little arrow pointing to the other side.
PS - Check the box again. Look for something white.
Willow dove headfirst toward the buried box and rustled through the contents until?—
She clasped her fingers around the small, shiny white object that stuck out from the faded, dingy antiques.
Her jaw fell open and her eyes went wide.
It was Luke Skywalker. Well, the Lego version.
On a whim, she’d left him a toy Darth Vader that Antony had gifted her. It had seemed a fitting joke, as the first time they’d run into each other this past summer, she’d made a quip about how he was like a villain in a superhero movie.
And now…
She clutched the little white figurine to her chest with a laugh that brought tears to her eyes.
He’d done it.
Eric Spencer had actually played along.
And it was freakin’ adorable.