Chapter 3
THREE
Lark
The diner is straight out of a Hallmark movie—red vinyl booths, hand-written pie specials on a chalkboard, and a server who calls everyone “hon.”
I study Harris as he sits across from me. He’s intense, like he’s memorizing every detail of my face. And okay—he’s hot . Tall and broad with strong hands, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of honey warmed in sunlight. I try not to let his incredible smelldistract me. It’s not cologne. It’s him. Warm, woodsy, a little smoky. Like sunshine and forests and safety all rolled into one.
The server delivers our food, and I smile, popping a fry in my mouth. When she’s gone, I glance out the window. People move slowly here. No one’s rushing, no one’s honking. It’s a far cry from New York.
“So,” Harris says, “what made you pick Twisted Oak for your vacation?”
I smile a little, still watching the street. “Honestly? It was late, and I was overworked and overwhelmed. I searched for remote cabins and stumbled across a blog post about this place. It looked like something out of a snow globe. Peaceful. Quiet.”
“You wanted to escape.”
I look at him, surprised by how easily he reads between the lines. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
He nods slowly like he understands more than he’s letting on.
“What about you?” I ask. “You from here?”
“Born and raised.” He leans back in the booth, his arm resting on the top of the seat. “Left for a few years—did some training, saw a bit of the world—but this place always called me back.”
“Why?”
His gaze holds mine. “It’s home.”
Something in his voice gives me pause. He says the word “home” like it’s sacred.
The server returns with a refill on our drinks, sets them down, and disappears again.
I wrap my hands around the warm mug and take a sip. Harris hasn’t looked away.
“Do you usually rescue stranded tourists?” I ask lightly, trying to ease the weight in the air.
He smiles, slow and crooked. “No. This is a first.”
“Lucky me.”
“You have no idea,” he murmurs.
I glance down at my coke, pretending not to hear the way his voice drops or how my stomach flutters in response. I came here to relax. To reset. Not to fall into some small-town fairy tale with a man who looks like he belongs on a calendar.
But I can’t deny the pull—the gravity of him.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I ask before I can stop myself.
His expression shifts slightly, something softer passing over his face. “Because I want to be.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he agrees. “But it’s the truth.”
I should be wary. I should be planning my exit strategy, checking motel reviews, and calling my assistant to reroute me to a hotel in Asheville. But instead, I’m sitting in a booth across from a stranger who feels like anything but.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Let’s go see this cabin.”
His smile is quiet but pleased. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Lead the way, fireman.”
He tosses some bills on the table for our food, and we step back out into the sunlight. The heat is thick and golden, the kind that makes your clothes stick to your skin.
I pause beside my car. “I’ll follow you?”
He tilts his head. “You don’t want to ride with me?”
“I’ve seen enough horror movies to know how that ends. Besides, I’ll need my car.”
His smile deepens, and he gives me a mock salute. “Fair enough. I’ll drive slow.”
I climb into my car, watching him walk to his truck in my rearview mirror. My heart is thudding again, and I don’t know if it’s nerves, excitement, or sheer insanity.
But for some reason, I follow him.
And for the first time since I got here, it doesn’t feel like a mistake.
The drive isn’t long. We wind up a quiet road lined with pine trees until the forest opens to a small clearing. A tidy A-frame cabin sits at the center, shaded by tall trees. There’s a porch swing, fresh-cut wood stacked beside the steps, and flower boxes under the windows. It looks like something out of a vacation brochure.
I park and step out, turning in a slow circle.
“This is… stunning.”
Harris smiles as he walks over. “Randy owns the land. He rents it out occasionally, but it’s empty this week.”
“Why hasn’t anyone snatched this place up?”
“It’s off the beaten path. No cell signal. No cable.”
I raise a brow. “Sounds perfect.”
He hands me the key. “It’s yours for the week.”
I blink at him. “Wait—how much does it cost?”
“I’ll cover it.”
“No, you won’t. I’m paying.”
He shrugs. “Then we’ll fight about it later.”
I shake my head, speechless. No one does this. No one… helps like this.
“You don’t even know me,” I whisper.
He meets my eyes. “I’d like to.”
For a moment, all I can hear is the chirp of birds in the trees and the rush of wind through the leaves. And my heart beating faster than it should.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
He nods. “Dinner tonight?”
I glance toward the cabin, then back at him. “Are you asking me on a date?”
He grins. “Maybe.”
I think for a beat, then smile. “Pick me up at six.”
He heads back to his truck, but before climbing in, he looks at me again. Like he’s memorizing something. Like he already knows that this week will change everything.
And as I step into the cool, quiet cabin, I wonder if he’s right.
So much for a quiet vacation.