Loving Carolina

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

I looked up at the Queen Anne style home I had just purchased, thanks to my obsession with the Cheap Old Houses Instagram account and HGTV and wondered if I had made a serious mistake. The house may have been affordable but looking at it now… actually I was afraid to look at it wrong in case that might cause it to fall over.

I was forty-three years old, and I loved challenges. Which is why I was standing in front of this rundown house in a small-town in North Carolina. I probably shouldn’t have made a decision to move across country because of my obsession with Dirty Dancing, but here I was rethinking my decision-making capability.

I rolled up my sleeves as I walked to the porch. “Well Sam, looks like you might be in over your head with this little adventure.”

The porch creaked ominously under my weight, and I froze. Great. Step one, don’t die on day one. I cautiously slid my foot forward, shifting my weight slowly as I listened for more signs of imminent collapse. The peeling yellow paint and sagging front door greeted me like an old friend—a friend who had been abandoned and left in the wilderness for the last half century.

Beside me, Luna, my rambunctious husky mix, leapt up the steps with her usual unbridled enthusiasm. Her icy blue eyes sparkled as she sniffed at the cracked floorboards, oblivious to the dilapidation surrounding us. She looked up at me with her signature raised eyebrows before her goofy grin took over, tongue hanging out to the side and everything, as if we’d just embarked on the most epic hike ever.

“Well, at least one of us is ready for adventure,” I muttered, giving her a pat on the head. “But don’t get too excited, Luna. Turning this place around is going to take a lot more than your enthusiasm.”

I juggled the keys in my hand, taking one last deep breath before pushing the front door open. “Okay, Sam, let’s see what kind of disaster you’ve signed up for this time.”

The door creaked open a few inches before grinding to a stop, sending my stomach plummeting to my feet. “Please don’t tell me I can’t even get into the house,” I muttered under my breath.

I glanced down to see Luna eagerly shoving her nose into the tiny crack, trying to squeeze through. "No, Luna, not yet," I said, tugging her back gently. "Wait until I know I can get in too."

She looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes, as if I was taking her on this grand adventure that started inside. I gave the door another shove, but it stubbornly held its ground.

"Of course," I grumbled. “The house doesn’t want us here; it won’t even let us inside. This bodes well for the next few months, don’t you think?” Luna huffed in response, unimpressed by my lack of progress.

I took a step back, sighed, and then gave the door a harder push with my shoulder. With a loud groan of protest, the hinges ripped away from the frame, the door fell to the floor, sending both me and Luna stumbling inside.

“Well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” I said as I looked up at the ceiling of my new, old foyer.

That’s when the smell hit me—hot, musty, with a hint of something far less pleasant. I couldn’t stop myself from gagging. “Oh my God.” I covered my nose with my sleeve and pushed myself off the floor with my other hand. The reality of the situation was finally sinking in, and I didn’t like it: I wasn’t going to be able to live here while I restored the place, at least not yet.

“Defeat,” I sighed. “I admit it. I need a hotel for tonight.”

But Luna had other ideas. Before I could even think about retreating, she was off, tearing through the main level, her paws clattering against the worn hardwood floors as she darted from room to room with the energy of a husky that was much more excited than me.

“At least you haven’t gone for the stairs yet,” I said, watching her tail disappear into another room. “And you seem to like the place.”

I could hear her nose working overtime as she sniffed around like she’d just discovered a new planet. How she could stand to have the smell in her nose I would never understand. She trotted back into the foyer and wagged her tail proudly; it was clear she’d already declared the house her domain.

“Well, I’m glad one of us is enthusiastic about the place,” I said, giving her a skeptical look, “but it smells like something died in here, and I’m not sleeping in this house as long as it smells like this. We’ll be back—when I’ve had a chance to deal with . . .” I gestured around at the house, wrinkling my nose. “All this.”

I looked up at the Mountain Lake Inn, another Queen Anne home, though this one was in much better shape—probably because someone had taken care of it for at least the last decade if not longer. The soft glow of its gas lit porch lights, and the meticulously trimmed hedges gave it the kind of warmth that screamed bed and breakfast , and I crossed my fingers it was dog-friendly.

I pushed open the welcoming yellow front door, and a bell tinkled overhead, the sound crisp and cheerful in contrast to the sagging groan of my own front door. I stepped inside to the lobby that was a mix of antique charm and modern comfort, with plush armchairs that begged to be curled up in and lace curtains framing the windows.

Luna sniffed the air beside me, her nose twitching. I patted her head, hoping we wouldn’t get kicked out before we even had a chance to check in. "Let's hope they like rambunctious dogs as much as you like all these new smells."

From behind the reception desk, a woman in her sixties appeared, her kind eyes surrounded by the wrinkles of someone that laughed a lot. She glanced between me and Luna. “Well, now, isn’t she a lovely pup,” she said with a smile. She glanced up at me and I saw her note my distress. “Don’t worry, we’re more than dog-friendly here.”

Relief flooded through me as I smiled back. “Thank God. We’ve had a quite a day.”

“You must be the new owner of Maple Leaf house,” the receptionist said casually as she flipped open the guest book.

I blinked, momentarily thrown. “How did you?—?”

She looked up with a knowing smile. “It’s a small town, honey. News travels faster than a greased pig. Especially when someone buys a house that’s been empty as long as that one.” She winked. “Besides, Mrs. Baker at the hardware store told me you stopped by earlier, buying supplies.”

I stared at her, unable to process the speed of small-town gossip. “Of course she did.”

“Well, don’t worry.” She jotted down my information. “Everyone’s excited to see someone finally fixing up that place. That house is a bit of a legend around here, you know. Some say it’s haunted.”

“Haunted?” I repeated, glancing down at Luna, who had already plopped down on the floor, making herself right at home on the lobby’s rug. “Great. That’s exactly what I need right now.”

The woman chuckled as she handed me my key. “Just a story, I’m sure. I’m Agnes if you need anything, anything at all. I can even point you in the direction of an excellent restoration specialist. If you’re interested, that is.”

I smiled, trying to hide just how much I might actually need that. “I’ll definitely consider it. But right now, I could really use a bath and a margarita.”

Agnes laughed, her eyes twinkling. “I can help with that too. There’s a tub big enough to soak away all your troubles in Room 3, and as for the margarita . . .” She leaned in conspiratorially. “We don’t exactly serve those here, but if you head down to Charlie’s Bar, you can ask for ‘Agnes’s Special’—trust me, it’ll hit the spot and it’s only two blocks from here. More than close enough to walk.”

“Sounds perfect.” I could feel the weight of the day lifting already.

“Go, get settled in, and if Luna needs anything, just let me know. I have an assortment of homemade dog treats around here for our furry guests.”

Luna perked up at the word ‘treats,’ and I gave her a pat. “I think she’ll be just fine, for now. But, Agnes, Luna will murder me if I don’t get her some of those treats soon.”

I headed upstairs with Luna in tow, already dreaming of that bath—and maybe an extra-large margarita.

In the distance I heard the bell tinkle and Agnes greet someone with the enthusiasm normally saved for a loved one.

I pushed the door open to Charlie’s, the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses greeted me as I stepped inside. The dim lighting and rustic decor made it feel like the kind of place where people came to unwind after a long day, and my day had been quite long. Desperately in need of a drink, I headed straight for the bar, grateful that Agnes had offered to keep an eye on Luna for a bit.

I slid onto a barstool, the tension from the day was lighter, but still weighed on me. A bartender with a friendly face and salt-and-pepper hair approached, wiping down the counter in front of me as he asked, “What’ll it be?”

“I was told you’ve got something called the Agnes’s Special.” I hoped it lived up to its name.

He chuckled. “Ah, so you’ve already met Agnes. The drink is a good choice.” He grabbed a shaker and set off to work, moving smoothly around the bar mixing alcohols like an artist, after a few shakes he set a perfectly salted margarita in front of me.

I took a sip, letting the tart taste work its magic. “This is exactly what I needed,” I said to myself as I felt the day start to melt away.

“Rough day?” the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s an understatement. Bought a house that might kill me before I even get started restoring it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Ah, so you’re the woman who bought the Maple Leaf house. That place has quite the reputation around here.”

I groaned. “So I’ve heard.” I pushed my card towards him.

“You should meet Nathan, he’s a restoration specialist, the only one around here, but he’s good.” He took my card, placing it in a glass by the register. “I’ll keep your tab open, don’t believe one is going to be enough today.”

“Thanks.” I took a sip as I contemplated what my next move should be.

The door creaked open and the bartender looked up. “Ah Nathan, I was just telling this young lady about you.”

I couldn’t help but scoff at the use of the word young to describe me. I might still be living the life of a twenty-year-old, as in single and childless, but there were way too many other things that reminded me I was in my forties, like how my back ached from sleeping on a mattress that I hadn’t broken in, or how it was going to hurt sleeping on an air mattress during renovations. I couldn’t afford to stay at the Mountain Lake Inn for very long.

I turned to see a tall man walking toward the bar, his blond hair slightly tousled. His blue eyes scanned the room until they landed on me. There was a rugged handsomeness about him, the kind that comes from years of working with your hands every day, and it was only made more striking by his beard. He smiled as he approached, and I felt an unexpected flutter in my stomach.

“Hey, I’m Nathan,” he said, extending a hand. “I hear you need a little help with that old house of yours.”

“Sam,” I replied, shaking his hand. “And yes, it seems I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. Although I don’t know how you could already know that.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “You’re not the first to try and tackle that project. Let me guess: you fell in love with the potential, right?”

“I guess that was part of it,” I sighed, taking another sip of my margarita. “I somehow got it in my head that this was my next calling—buying and restoring old houses. I even fantasized about starting a YouTube channel to showcase all my progress, and maybe it would become the next big thing.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ah, the dream of turning old homes into internet fame. It does work, but it usually involves a lot more than a cute dog and a vision.”

I laughed, feeling a little more at ease. “Yeah, I didn’t consider the whole ‘horrifying smells and potential structural collapse’ part of the plan, despite all the home shows I’ve watched. Seriously, I should have known.”

“Most people forget about that fun detail.” He leaned against the bar. “But it sounds like you have the enthusiasm for it. That’ll get you pretty far, even if the house has other ideas.”

“Enthusiasm is something I have, only reason I’ve managed to keep my influencer work going for so long, oh, and apparently a talent for getting myself into questionable situations.” I glanced down at my empty drink. I was going to need another one of those. “What about you? How did you become the go-to restoration guy in this town?”

He shrugged, but there was pride in his eyes. “Grew up in a family of builders. I fell in love with restoring old homes while helping my dad. It’s become a labor of love, but it can be rewarding—just like the YouTube channel idea.”

“Maybe you could be my first guest star.” I suggested, the thought suddenly sparking a bit of mischief in me. “If I can convince you to help me, of course.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow as his lips formed a mischievous smile. “Oh, so that’s how it works? You lure me in with the promise of internet fame and I just succumb to all the potential?”

“Absolutely,” I said, laughing. “You can even have a fun title. Something like ‘Nathan, the Magical Restoration Wizard.’”

“Now that’s enticing,” he chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to be a wizard. It could be a fun gig. But first, you’ve got to show me the Maple Leaf house. I’ve heard all about it, but never been inside.”

“Deal,” I said, there it was again, a flutter of excitement. “But just so you know, I might need a few margaritas before we go.”

By the end of the night, Nathan and I agreed to meet up at my new old house in the morning. Why eight in the morning was the time anyone suggested—or accepted—I will never know. By the time plans were made, I’d already had one too many margaritas, which explained my inability to make the suggestion to meet at a reasonable time.

That’s why I was now standing outside, staring at the yellow paint peeling off the rotting siding, while a high school drumline marched with enthusiasm inside my skull.

Luna, looking far too energetic for this ungodly hour, wagged her tail and trotted happily beside me. “Why do you look so happy about this?” I rubbed my temples, willing the pounding in my head to go away.

Nathan’s vintage Jeep truck rumbled up the drive, way too punctual for my taste. Actually, that’s not true I adored punctuality, but right now I just wanted to be in bed sleeping off my misery.

He hopped out, his hair damp from what I could only assume was a morning shower. His blue eyes sparkled in a way that only a morning person’s eyes could, making me question whether he really was the person I had met at the bar last night. My eyes ran over his body from the heather blue T-shirt that hugged his biceps and pecs before loosely falling over what I could only assume was a six-pack of abs. His worn-out jeans clung to his hips and probably showed off his ass to perfection. Yes, he was the young man I met last night standing beside his truck entirely too chipper, a travel mug of coffee in hand. “Morning!” he called out, flashing a grin as if he hadn’t just committed me to a day of painful responsibility.

I squinted at him through my hangover. “I regret everything.”

He laughed, walking over with the kind of energy that made me hate him just a little at that moment. “Margarita regrets, huh?”

“That, and agreeing to meet at this hour,” I groaned, gesturing weakly toward the house. “If you see me staring at it like I’m meditating or have entered into a vegetative state, just leave me be. I’ll rally later.”

Nathan chuckled. “Fair enough. But hey, at least we’re getting an early start. It’s not as bad as it looks . . . from this angle, anyway.”

I shot him a look. “Let’s see if you still say that after you’ve been inside.”

“Challenge accepted,” he said, laughing as he headed toward the front door, while I trudged after him, willing the headache to go away before I was forced to face the reality of just how much work this place needed.

I followed Nathan up the rickety porch steps, every footfall echoed louder in my head than was physically possible. The front door was where I’d left it after yesterday’s mishap—leaning pathetically in the frame, no longer attached to the hinges. Looking at it now, I should have attempted to fix it, but it didn’t seem worth it yesterday.

Nathan paused, inspecting the door with a raised eyebrow, then glanced back at me with an amused expression, barely suppressing a know-it-all grin.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I waved my hand dismissively. "It didn’t break until I tried to get into the house."

He chuckled, stepping up to the door and lifting it carefully. "Well, that’s one way to make an entrance."

"That’s exactly what I said when I fell through the doorway." I couldn’t help but laugh, even though laughing sent splintering pain through my head. I really hoped my headache would subside before I had to witness his reaction to the disaster beyond the threshold.

Nathan propped the door against the side of the house and gestured with a playful flourish. "After you."

I stepped into the house, Luna trotting happily at my heels. The musty air hit me like a wall, I tried to suppress my need to gag as Nathan followed, giving a low whistle. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Welcome to my fixer-upper nightmare.” I crossed my arms and stared at my boots.

He smiled, his eyes twinkled as he took in the peeling wallpaper, cracked floorboards, and general chaos. “It’s got potential.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s exactly what I said before the margaritas kicked in.”

Nathan walked through the house. “Then I guess you’re lucky I have some time. Let’s turn your ‘it has potential’ into something a little more . . . livable.”

“If we could get it livable and with a functioning art and recording studio, that would be ideal,” I said, glancing around hoping to see something that would give me a sign this place would work. “I need to work, to make sure I can actually pay for the renovation of this place.”

Nathan nodded, his expression shifting from amused to thoughtful. “That makes sense. Cash flow is always important, especially with a project like this. I take it you really are an influencer and artist.”

“Yeah,” I answered but was distracted as I looked around. I wanted the decay to vanish and one of the rooms to magically reveal itself as the perfect workspace. But no such luck. Instead, I was faced with cracked plaster, exposed beams, and floors that seemed to groan under the weight of my hopes and dreams.

“Any ideas on where to start?” I asked, more out of desperation than expectation of an actual plan being offered.

Nathan rubbed his chin, taking in the space with a critical eye. “Well, for an art studio, you’ll need good lighting, the recording studio needs good light and a cozy atmosphere, and probably the least amount of structural damage. Let’s see what we’re working with upstairs. Sometimes the second floor has a better layout for that kind of thing.”

I followed him up the stairs, which creaked ominously with every single step. Luna darted ahead, her nails tapping on the wooden floors. I couldn’t help but feel a small surge of optimism. Sure, the house was a mess, but maybe with Nathan’s help, this crazy dream would actually come true.

We reached the second floor, and Nathan pushed open the door to one of the rooms. “How about this?”

The space was larger than I expected, there was a nook with tall windows that let in an enormous amount of light, despite the grime. It was the perfect space to set up an easel and the room was large enough I could set it up as a cozy living room. It wasn’t perfect, but it had potential, the kind that might make my vision of an art and recording studio possible.

I smiled, imagining the transformation. “I think you just found my future workspace.”

Nathan’s hand brushed the small of my back sending tingles up my spine. “We should go out to dinner to celebrate. After we demo some of this place of course.”

“I heard demo went well today.” Agnes smiled warmly as I walked into the Mountain Lake Inn, her eyes twinkled mischievously.

I blinked, shaking my head. “How do you know that? Small town, I get it. But we were inside all day. How did anyone know how it went?”

Agnes laughed, the sound light. “Oh, it’s not town gossip . . . yet.” She paused, I assumed for dramatic effect. “I just got off the phone with my grandson. He told me it went quite well today.”

I froze. “Your . . . grandson?” My voice came out in a whisper, my heart skipping a beat.

Agnes nodded, her grin widening. “Nathan? Of course. He didn’t say anything?”

I gulped, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “He failed to mention it.”

Her chuckle filled the room, and I nervously laughed along with her. Of all the things Nathan had talked about while we worked together, he’d conveniently left out the part where Agnes, the friendly B her eyes filled with pride. "Absolutely. You’ve got yourself the best in town—maybe even the state—helping you with that house of yours. It’s true, even if I’m biased, just ask anyone."

"Well, I guess I found the right person to work with," I admitted with a smile, suddenly more appreciative of Nathan’s expertise. "Maybe this project won’t be such a disaster after all."

"With Nathan working with you, it won’t be," Agnes said confidently. "Just don’t be surprised if he takes his time. He’s a perfectionist, just like his daddy was."

Some of her words played over again in my head like toddler and twenty-seven years. “I have another question, if you don’t mind me asking.”

Agnes nodded.

I hesitated for a moment, but decided it was information I needed to know. “How old is Nathan?”

“ Not sure why that matters, hun. But he’s thirty.”

Thirty? My thoughts spiraled out of control. How was Nathan only thirty? He carried himself like someone with years more experience and confidence, and now I was grappling with the realization that he was thirteen years younger than me.

I forced a smile, but inside I was panicking. Thirty. The number bounced around in my head. I couldn’t have dinner with someone who was that much younger . . . could I?

Agnes gave me a questioning look, noticing the panic I was trying to suppress. "Are you okay, hun?"

I let out an awkward laugh that sounded weak to my ears. "Yeah, it’s just . . . He’s just so young."

Agnes chuckled softly. "He may be young, but why does that matter? Besides, age is just a number, right?"

I wasn’t so sure. But with the house restoration ahead of me, and Nathan’s help being more than essential, I was going to have to figure out how to handle this revelation, especially since I wanted to get to know him on a less than professional level.

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror, taking in the outfit I’d pieced together for the evening. The wide-leg jeans hugged my hips perfectly before flaring out dramatically, so wide that you could barely see the red boots peeking from underneath. My red top skimmed just above the waistline of the jeans, showing just the right amount of skin when I moved.

I shrugged on the black sequined bomber jacket, the sparkle catching the light. It was casual but with a little something extra— bejeweled , as I liked to think of it. I took one last look at my reflection, smoothing down the fabric of my jeans.

I had to admit, I was feeling good—really good. Maybe not quite ready for a date with someone thirteen years younger than me good, but still . . . good.

Luna nosed at my hand, her tail wagging as if she approved. I smiled as I petted her, then took a deep breath. "Alright, girl," I muttered. "Here goes nothing."

I walked down the staircase of the Mountain Lake Inn, the sequins on my bomber jacket catching the warm light of the chandelier above. As I passed the front desk, I waved at Agnes, who gave me an encouraging smile.

"You look fabulous, hun," she called after me.

"Thanks," I replied with a grin that didn’t quite reach my eyes.

Nathan and I were meeting at the local pizzeria—close enough to walk to, which seemed like a good idea at the time. But now, as I continued to put one foot in front of the other, each step bringing me closer to dinner with a guy thirteen years younger than me, I wasn’t so sure. I was on edge, nervous about dinner, and I couldn’t stop thinking about turning around and going back to the comfort of my room.

This is only dinner to talk about work, I reminded myself. It doesn’t have to be anything else.

When the soft glow of the pizzeria lights came into view, I knew there was no turning back.

"Sam! You made it," Nathan called out, his voice warm and inviting as he waved, shutting the door of his truck.

I glanced up and couldn’t help but take him in as he walked toward me. He looked just as good as before, maybe even better with the evening light casting a glow over his broad frame. The casual jacket he wore, along with the confident stride, made it clear he didn’t share my nerves about this little dinner meetup.

I smiled, trying to shake off the flurry of thoughts in my head. "Yeah, I made it. Figured it was too late to turn back now."

He grinned, catching the hint of humor in my voice. "Good thing. I was just about to call Agnes to see if she’d need to send out a search party."

I laughed, feeling a bit of my tension ease. "Well, no search party needed. Ready for pizza?"

"Always," he said, walking beside me as we headed toward the door of the pizzeria. "Hope you're hungry."

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

I walked past Nathan as he held the door open for me. It was such a gentlemanly thing to do, something I wasn’t used to, not being from the south. I was pretty sure I could get used to it though.

As we made our way through the pizza joint, his hand lightly brushed the small of my back, guiding me toward a quiet table in the corner, away from the chaos of the all-you-can-eat salad bar. It was subtle, but it sent a tingle up my spine that I tried to shake off.

We sat down, the scent of garlic and fresh-baked dough filled the air. My stomach rumbled, making me uncomfortably aware of just how hungry I was. Hunger was a stark contrast to the anxious knots that were currently residing in my stomach. I glanced at him, feeling my nerves settle into something more like anticipation. He leaned back in his chair, easygoing as ever, giving me that same look he had when we first met—like he was already enjoying himself, even though nothing was happening.

“Should we order?” I asked as I leaned forward on the table.

Nathan leaned forward in his chair. “Are you sure you want to risk it? This could make or break our relationship?”

My eyes jerked towards his. “Relationship?”

“Potentially, at least a friendship, for now.” He smiled.

My heart melted a little. “So how could ordering pizza, make or break what we have going on here?”

His smile grew, taking over his face before it shifted to something very serious. “What do you like on your pizza?”

I threw back my head, laughing. “You’re right, that is a serious question. My favorite is pepperoni, jalapeno and . . . I don’t know if I should say it . . . pineapple.”

He stared at me, not moving a muscle. “It looks like whatever you want to call this, is off to a very good start.”

The smile that took over his face would have made my knees go weak if I had been standing. Instead, my heart fluttered in a way I found quite foreign.

We finished our pizza while discussing everything and anything that came to mind. It amazed me how much we had in common. It shocked me even more that silence was as comfortable as the conversation.

Nathan pushed his chair back. The sound snapped me out of my revery. I watched him stand, curious as to what he was going to do next.

“Let’s dance.” He held his hand out, waiting for me to take it.

That was not what I expected. I looked at his hand, the empty dance floor, then back at him. My eyebrow shot up, questioning him without saying a word.

His smile grew. “Come on. The music is good, and I enjoy dancing.”

I hesitated. “Everyone will be watching.”

“Nah, they’re too busy eating dinner.” He offered me his hand again.

This time I took it, letting him lead me to the empty dance floor. A mix of pop music from different decades played over the speakers. Nathan spun me under his arm, pulling me close as I faced him. Our bodies brushed up against each other, his hands rested on my hips. Someone turned the music up, causing the beat to reverberate through my body. I felt Nathan’s hands move me, turning me so my back was toward him. Without thought, I leaned back as we swayed to the music flipping my hair to one side, exposing one my neck. That’s when I opened my eyes to see everyone in the pizzeria staring at us.

Nathan’s breath was on my neck, next to my ear. “They’re staring because they’re mesmerized by you, just like I am.”

He spun me around until we faced each other and leaned down until his lips brushed mine. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was just the two of us. When the kiss ended the world came crashing back, everyone was still watching us.

Luna sat at the edge of the bed, her multicolored eyes—one blue, one brown—fixed on me with her eager, playful look. The expression on her face was the one she had every morning when she knew it was time to get out of bed and go for a walk. Which is why she had gone from staring at me with enthusiasm to pushing my legs toward the edge of the bed with her snout.

I groaned pulling the covers over my head in an attempt to block out the day and Luna’s puppy-like exuberance. I wasn’t ready to start the day. My mind still swirled with thoughts of last night, the dinner with Nathan was easy. I had expected to struggle to converse, but we talked all night. We had a surprising amount in common. The night ended with him whispering in my ear that people were staring because I was gorgeous.

We were spending today restoring my house. My stomach was in knots just thinking about it. What if last night was a fluke, and today we struggled to work well together, to find the rhythm that was so easy last night. What if today was even easier than last night?

I sighed. There was no way I could avoid the day—my to-do list was long enough to keep me busy for days, and “unlocking” the house was at the top. I could already imagine Nathan waiting for me, tools in hand, ready to get started, all while I lazed around in bed. Luna jumped off the bed and let out a soft whine, nudging my arm with her cold nose.

"Fine," I muttered as I tossed the covers aside. "I’m up."

Luna ran in circles, her tail wagging furiously as I dragged myself out of bed, mentally preparing for another day of chaos—and, if I was lucky, actual progress.

I pulled on a bright pink shirt and a pair of overalls, the perfect combination for a day of dusty demolition and hopeful restoration. Tying my hair up in a messy top bun, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Not bad, I thought, giving a little nod of approval. I looked ready for whatever the day threw at me—or whatever the house decided to throw my way.

Luna was already at the door, pawing at it with excitement, ready to tackle the day. I grabbed my boots and headed out, mentally preparing myself for the long day ahead with Nathan.

It didn’t take long before everything was loaded in my Subaru, and we were on our way to the house. Excitement built inside me with every mile, a mix of anxiety, determination, and hope swirling inside me. I can do this, I told myself. I can save something, make it better, and find the right people to live in it when I’m done. The thought ran through my head over and over, gaining strength with each repetition.

But then I pulled up to the house.

There wasn’t a pep talk I could give myself that would convince me I knew what I was doing and had everything under control. It still looked awful, especially with the gaping hole where the front door should be. The overgrown yard, the peeling paint—nothing had magically improved overnight, wasn’t sure why I thought would. What was in front of me was a stark reminder of the mountain of work that lay ahead.

And yet when I got out of my car there was Nathan, sitting on the front steps, his broad frame relaxed as he looked at his phone, probably doom scrolling on some social media app. He glanced up as the gravel crunched under my feet, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and—wow. He looked good, too good, in fact. Mouth-watering good, and far too tempting for my own well-being. For a second our kiss from last night took over my thoughts.

I took a deep breath, shaking my head as if that would shake off the thoughts that had nothing to do with restoration. Focus on the house, I reminded myself. Not the man. Even though I really wanted to focus on the man.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” I asked, doing my best to sound casual. I didn’t want to sound like I was completely distracted by how ridiculously good Nathan looked. His blue eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I had the fleeting thought that Taylor Swift had a song about drowning in blue eyes. Was it ‘Style’? I couldn’t remember.

I quickly pushed the thought away. Not important, I reminded myself. But what Nathan was saying was definitely important. Too bad I hadn’t taken in a single word of it.

He raised an eyebrow, the quirk of his lips let me know he could tell my mind was elsewhere. “You with me, Sam?”

“Yep,” I said, a little too quickly. “Totally. Right here, ready to go.”

Nathan chuckled, crossing his arms. “I was just saying, we’re going to start with the front door—get that squared away so you don’t have to worry about anyone walking straight into the house. Sound good?”

“Right. Front door. Perfect.” I nodded enthusiastically, hoping it looked like I was totally in control.

All my worrying was for naught. Nathan and I fell into a rhythm immediately, working side by side to tackle the repairs. We would have gotten so much done, but as was typical with these projects, we ran out of the supplies we needed to finish the day. When Nathan casually suggested we head into town to grab more—and maybe lunch while we were at it—I didn’t think much of it.

That is until we walked into the diner and every pair of eyes in the room landed on us. The quiet murmur of conversation that had filled the diner dropped the moment we stepped through the door. All of a sudden, the end of last night came back to me and I wanted to leave.

Now I was second-guessing every decision I’d made in the past few hours. Looking around, I was hyper-aware of the fact we were probably the talk of the town, especially after the very public kiss.

Nathan wasn’t fazed. He smiled and waved as we made our way to an empty booth. I could feel the curious stares following us. I shifted in my seat, wondering if this was what life would be like if we continued to date. It wasn’t exactly a date, but now, sitting across from him with everyone watching, it sure felt like one.

“So,” Nathan said, breaking into my downward spiral of over-thinking. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Honestly? To crawl under this table and disappear,” I muttered, half-joking, half-serious.

He chuckled, leaning back in the booth with that easygoing grin of his. “Don’t worry about them. Small town, remember? You’re the new face around here, so naturally, people are curious.”

“Sure, that’s what it is, I’m new.” I looked around again and saw Agnes across the diner. She winked at me. Great. “ Despite my work as an influencer, I’m not a fan of being the center of attention. I created my account by showing off exciting places or Luna. I stayed behind the camera as much as possible.”

Nathan’s look was pensive. “That’s a shame. You shouldn’t hide yourself.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling defensive. “I never said I was hiding myself. Just . . . choosing to highlight other things.”

He gave me a thoughtful look. “Still, if you’re really going to do this YouTube channel, you have to be in front of the camera. People want to see the person behind the project. What your story is.”

I shrugged, I knew he was right. “Yeah, I know. If I really commit to the idea, I’ll have to get used to it. I probably should’ve been filming more this morning.” I laughed, the thought of filming the chaos that was the door debacle was almost appealing in its absurdity. “But at this point, it might be more of a ‘how not to’ channel.”

Nathan smiled. “That’s part of the charm. People don’t want perfect. They want real and they want drama. And that’s what you’re doing—restoring this place, step by step, mistakes and all.”

I looked at him for a moment, letting what he was saying settle into my brain. He was right, in a way. People didn’t like perfection, they wanted something they thought was real, even if it was a curated version of real. Maybe I didn’t need to be perfect for the camera, just authentic. And suddenly, the idea of sharing my journey—margaritas, mistakes, and all—didn’t seem so daunting.

“Thanks, I needed to hear that. I put a lot of pressure on myself to be perfect,” I admitted, my eyes meeting Nathan’s. His warm gaze softened, and I couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to be seen, flaws and all.

My thoughts were interrupted by the bell over the door to the diner jangling, diverting my attention away from our conversation. I looked up to see a beautiful young woman stroll in, her presence commanding the room. Once again, the inside of the diner went quiet. Some guests stared at her, others at me and Nathan. For a brief second, I wondered who she was—local, visitor? But as my gaze drifted back to Nathan, I noticed his head snap back, the smile I was used to seeing on his face gone, replaced with a tense expression.

Curiosity flickered through my mind, his was the reaction of someone who had a history. “Friend of yours?” I asked, keeping my voice light.

Nathan cleared his throat, his smile a touch sheepish. “Uh, not anymore. Just someone I thought I knew.”

The way he said it was like he was attempting to be nonchalant, but the words felt weighted. It was clear there was more to this woman than he was willing to share. It made me pause as I felt a flicker of curiosity to press for details. Not my business, I reminded myself. Nathan and I were still in the early stages of getting to know each other, and everyone has their past, right?

“Ah,” I said, nodding slowly. “One of those.”

He chuckled, though it lacked some of his usual easy charm. “Yeah, something like that.”

I took a sip of my drink, feeling the unwelcome tension at the table, something I hadn’t felt with him before. But before the awkwardness could settle in, Nathan leaned forward, his playful grin returning. “So, about this YouTube channel—if you’re serious about it, I’ve got some ideas for how to make the renovation stand out. We could start with that front door fiasco, make it a running gag. You did get some footage of it, didn’t you?”

I laughed, the tension breaking. “Oh, so now you want to be a comedian?”

“Hey, I’m a man of many talents.” He winked, and just like that, the moment passed, leaving the air light between us once again.

The hardware store was exactly what you'd expect in a small town—rows of well-organized shelves stacked with everything from nails to paint, and a comforting smell of wood and metal in the air. The man at the counter wore a flannel shirt, the kind of uniform you’d expect from someone who’s been doing this for decades. He knew every customer that walked in and exactly what they needed before they even asked.

“Sam and Nathan, what can I do you for today?” The owner, whose name I didn’t catch, dropped what he was doing and greeted us with a wide smile.

Nathan returned the grin with ease. “Quite a few things, actually—hinges for the door, patching material, sandpaper, and probably a bunch of things I haven’t even thought of yet.”

The owner nodded sagely, already heading towards the aisle. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full with a big project.”

“You have no idea,” I muttered, glancing around the store as we followed him.

He stopped in front of outdoor hinges and grabbed a set before he turned to me as he stroked his neatly trimmed beard. “Are you the one that’s renovating the Maple Leaf House?”

I held up my hands. “Guilty as charged. Do you mind if I take some video as we shop?”

The owner nodded before he pointed us in the direction of the other items on our list.The place had an old-world charm, the kind that made you feel like you were walking into a time capsule of simpler days when everyone knew each other by name and lent a hand whenever needed. It would be perfect for the show I wanted to put together.

Nathan and I made our way back to the antique cash register, our cart loaded with supplies, and his hand resting lightly on my lower back. It was a small gesture, but it was comforting, a connection to someone, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I looked back at him with a smile as the door chimed behind us. I turned to see the woman from the diner walk in.

"Nathan, what a surprise to see you here," she said, her voice dripped with that sweet, syrupy southern charm that held a hint of something much sharper underneath.

Nathan rolled his eyes, his tone flat. "Is it though, Addison?"

I felt the shift in his mood immediately, the playful warmth from earlier fading as he faced her.

Addison. So that was her name. She was stunning, of course—perfect blonde curls, flawless makeup, and a smile that looked more like a practiced performance than genuine friendliness. I felt a strange pang in my chest, though I couldn't place why.

"Still working on your little projects, I see," Addison said, her gaze flickering between Nathan, me, and his hand on my back. Her mouth formed something akin to a smile that never reached her eyes. "And who's your new . . . friend?"

I straightened, feeling the weight of her words. Before I could speak, Nathan answered, his hand falling to his side. "Sam. She’s the one restoring the Maple Leaf house."

"Ah," Addison said, clearly unimpressed, her eyes raked over me before they landed back on Nathan. "Well, if you ever need any real help, you know where to find me."

Nathan's jaw clenched, but he kept his tone neutral. "Thanks, but we've got it covered."

“Are you sure?” She barely looked over at me before continuing. “It doesn’t look like you have much help.”

I could feel the tension growing, and part of me wanted to bolt, but I managed to stay rooted in place. I wasn’t going to let someone like Addison make me feel small.

Nathan’s jaw tightened, but he gave me a calm, controlled smile. "Positive. Sam’s doing great."

I felt a surge of warmth at his words, though the way Addison kept her focus on him, deliberately dismissing me, made my spine stiffen. She crossed her arms, her expression condescending, as if I wasn’t even worth her attention.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, her voice sweet with a bite. “Wouldn’t want to see the place fall apart—any more than it already has.”

Her words were aimed at me, but Nathan didn’t flinch, didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he looked at me and smiled. "We’re making progress."

Addison’s lips tightened at his statement. Without another word, she turned on her heel and sauntered out of the store, her designer heels clicking against the floor. The moment she was gone, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

"She seems . . . pleasant," I said, trying to keep my tone light.

Nathan shook his head, his eyes softening as he looked at me. "Don’t let her get to you. Addison’s been like that as long as I’ve known her."

"Long time, huh?" I couldn’t help but ask.

"Too long," he said with a small laugh, but there was something behind it—some weight he didn’t feel like sharing just yet.

I decided not to push, though the whole encounter left a strange, sour taste in my mouth. "Well, I guess we better get back to work before she sends reinforcements to check on our progress."

Nathan grinned at that. "Good idea. Let’s prove her wrong."

I sat on the patio of the cutest bakery I had ever been to, my laptop was out, the calendar on the screen reminding me I needed to schedule my Instagram posts for the week, then edit the video I had captured during the renovation. The list of things I needed to do was long, unfortunately I didn’t want to do any of them. Which was why I was only tapping my nails on the keyboard while munching on a lemon blueberry cupcake when Addison walked in. I watched as she looked around the bakery, noting when she saw me, and then seeing her internal debate as she decided whether or not to acknowledge me.

I braced myself, attempting to look busy as Addison made her decision. I tapped a few random keys, pretending I was focused on my work, but my eyes flickered up in time to catch her heading my way. Great. I took another bite of my cupcake, hoping the sweetness would offset the impending bitterness.

"Sam," Addison greeted, her voice syrupy but with an edge. "Fancy seeing you here."

I swallowed my bite and looked up, forcing a smile. "Hey, Addison. Just getting some work done."

She glanced at my laptop screen, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Instagram posts, right? How’s that going for you?"

I couldn’t tell if she was being genuinely curious or subtly condescending, but I wasn’t about to let her get under my skin. "It’s going well. Keeping busy with the renovation content too. People love seeing the progress on the Maple Leaf house."

Addison’s lips curled into a tight smile. "How . . . quaint."

I stiffened but kept my tone even. "It’s been a lot of work, but I’m excited about the potential. Nathan’s been a big help."

Her expression flickered, just for a moment. "Nathan does have a way of getting involved with his little projects."

This time, I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. "Seems like more than a project to me. He’s passionate about restoring these old houses."

"Passionate, yes of course, bless your heart. He can be quite passionate about all his—projects." Her smile never quite reaching her eyes. "Just don’t count on him to stay passionate for long. He may love old things for a while, but it doesn’t last forever. You might want to keep that in mind."

I blinked, trying to decipher what she meant—or if it was just another veiled attempt to undermine me. "Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind."

“I’m just trying to help. Forewarned is forearmed or something like that.” She paused. “I know Nathan better than he knows himself, I should after the years we were together.”

She stood there for a second longer, her eyes searching mine, as if looking for some reaction she could exploit. When she didn’t get it, she gave a slight nod and turned to walk away.

As soon as she was gone, I let out a breath, my fingers finally resting on the keyboard for real. Nathan’s words from earlier echoed in my mind— Don’t let her get to you —but that was easier said than done.

I tried to push the thought away, but it gnawed at me like the stubborn splinter I got the day before sanding down the door. Addison’s words echoed in my head, "He may love old things for a while, but it doesn’t last forever." It was obvious she was still hung up on Nathan, which called everything she said about him into question. But her comments had me second-guess something that hadn’t even fully started, and I hated that I was letting her words get to me so much. But there it was—a nagging voice asking if Nathan’s love for restoration was just a reflection of his tendency to get bored and move on. Or worse, that he saw me like one of his projects? Something old to fix up before leaving it behind?

I closed my laptop, too distracted to focus on work. Luna, sprawled out at my feet, lifted her head, sensing my unease. I reached down and scratched behind her ears, hoping her presence would calm me down. But Addison’s insinuations had wormed their way into my thoughts.

Nathan seemed so genuine. His passion for restoration wasn’t just a job—it was personal. The way he talked about the Maple Leaf house, the care he took with every detail, even the way he interacted with me—it all felt real. But was I reading too much into it? Was I just another "older thing" he’d eventually leave behind?

I stood up, deciding I needed some space to clear my head. Grabbing Luna’s leash, I gave her a quick pat. "Come on, girl. Let’s go for a walk. Maybe some fresh air will help me stop over-thinking this."

As we walked through the quiet streets, Addison’s words were on replay in my head. I was worried she was right and everything I had been feeling wasn’t reciprocated.

Luna and I walked until we found a beach on the lake. There was nothing Luna enjoyed more than chasing a ball or stick thrown into the water. She would swim after anything I threw into the water, even rocks. It was soothing to watch her swim out to the item, eager to get it back to shore.

“Hey Sam, strange finding you here.” Nathan’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

I turned around, startled to see Nathan walking toward me, hands in his pockets and a curious expression on his face. Luna, who had been happily chasing a stick in the water, paused mid-splash and bounded back, her tail wagging at the sight of him. She stopped at his feet and shook, spraying water everywhere.

I tried to push the thoughts swirling in my mind to the back, forcing a smile. "Hey, Nathan. Just needed to get some air . . . clear my head."

"Yeah?" He glanced at the lake, then back at me, his smile easy but tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. "Same here, actually. This spot's kind of my go-to when I need to think."

Of course it was. The town was small enough that it made sense we’d run into each other eventually, but I still wasn’t prepared for it. "Looks like we had the same idea then," I said, my voice a bit too bright as I tossed the stick for Luna again.

Nathan stood beside me, watching her splash into the water. "You okay? You seem . . . off."

I hesitated, the weight of Addison’s words tugging at my thoughts again. I didn’t want to come off as insecure or paranoid, but something in Nathan’s expression told me he wasn’t going to let this go.

Finally, I sighed. "I ran into Addison today. She had . . . things to say."

Nathan’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening slightly. "What did she say?"

I tried to laugh it off, but it came out flat. "Oh, you know. Just implying that you have a habit of leaving behind the things you restore. That your passion for old things is more like a phase than something permanent."

Nathan looked down at the ground, kicking a small rock before meeting my eyes again. His gaze was steady, but there was a flicker of frustration. "Addison doesn’t know me like she thinks she does. We haven’t been together in years, and whatever she said . . . it’s not fair to you, or to me."

I crossed my arms, unsure of how to respond. "I guess I just . . . don’t want to be another project to you, Nathan."

His face softened, and he stepped closer, the tension between us palpable. "Sam, you're not a project. The house, yeah, that's something I want to fix up because it's my passion. But you . . . you're different." He paused, his blue eyes searching mine, his thumbs looped through my belt loops pulling me towards him. "If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here right now, trying to explain this."

The vulnerability in his voice surprised me, and for a moment, I let my guard down. "I’m sorry. I guess I just got in my own head."

He smiled, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Hey, I get it. This is all new. For both of us."

Luna bounded out of the water, shaking her wet fur all over us, breaking the tension. We both laughed, the moment lighter now.

Nathan wiped the water from his face and grinned. "How about this—let’s take it one day at a time. No pressure, no expectations. Just . . . see where things go."

I smiled back, feeling the weight lifted from my shoulders. "Yeah. I think I can handle that."