Chapter 6
Eve
The world is dark at five in the morning.
Dark, freezing, and entirely too cruel to be awake in.
As I drag myself out of my car, my breath puffs in front of me in visible little clouds, swirling in the crisp morning air.
I clutch my coat tighter around myself, muttering curses against every life choice that has led me here.
What kind of person willingly wakes up at this ungodly hour?
A lunatic. Or, apparently, a reindeer farmer named Luke Dawson.
The farmhouse glows warmly against the predawn sky, its yellow light spilling onto the frost-covered porch.
Before I can even knock, the door swings open, revealing a tiny, silver-haired woman in a thick knit sweater and an apron dusted with flour.
The scent of cinnamon and coffee wraps around me like a blanket, and for a second, I forget about the icy misery of the hour.
"Eve! Sweetheart!" A loud voice exclaims from the open doorway of the farmhouse.
"Aunt May?" I ask, surprised. "I haven’t seen you in years!”
Even though she isn’t my Aunt May, everyone in Holly Ridge calls her that. She’s everyone’s aunt. Though, only truly Luke’s biological aunt.
Just as I step onto the porch, she pulls me into a hug before I can protest. "Well, don’t you look just as bright-eyed as you did in high school. Come in, come in—before you freeze to death."
I let myself be ushered inside, sighing in relief as warmth floods over me. I’m immediately hit with the sweet scent of muffins. “You’re still baking up a storm, I see."
She chuckles, patting my cheek affectionately. "Someone’s gotta keep this grumpy farmer fed. Speaking of which—here." She presses a steaming mug of coffee into my hands, and I swear I could kiss her.
"Bless you," I whisper, inhaling the glorious, life-saving aroma before taking a careful sip. It’s perfect—hot, strong, and just sweet enough to remind me of Christmas mornings.
"Just don’t let Luke work you too hard," Aunt May says, shaking her head. "He can be a bit… particular. Especially when it comes to his prized reindeer. Which is ironic since he never even wanted to be a farmer in the first place.”
"I’m standing right here," a deep, unmistakable voice grumbles from the hallway.
I turn, and there he is, looking far too handsome and bright eyed for this ungodly hour.
He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching me with an expression that says he already regrets letting me step foot on his farm.
His flannel shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, revealing strong forearms dusted with hints of sawdust or hay.
He’s rugged and rough around the edges, and entirely too good at scowling before the sun is even up.
"You’re late," he announces, shattering the sexy illusion.
I glance at the clock. "By two minutes."
"Might as well be an hour."
"You’re in a lovely mood this morning."
"And you’re what?” he asks as he pushes off the doorframe and moves over to grab a muffin from the baking tray. “Pure sunshine?”
Aunt May smacks Luke on the bicep before handing him a coffee. “Be hospitable, Lucas.”
I take another deliberate sip of coffee, examining him from over the lip of the coffee mug. “Yes, Lucas. Be hospitable.” Then, leaning over him, I grab a muffin for myself and whisper. “And we both know, I’m a delight.”
“You won’t be once we start chores,” he grunts.
I raise an eyebrow, pretending to be unfazed. "How bad could it be?"
Luke smirks like he knows something I don’t. And, well… it turns out, he does.
How bad could it be? Well… the answer is: really, really bad.
I thought I’d be brushing reindeer or feeding them hay. Picking a few eggs out of the henhouse and putting them in an adorable wicker basket. Something cute and picturesque.
But no.
Instead, I’m standing in a drafty barn, my boots sinking into something questionable, while a row of goats stare at me like they know I don’t belong here.
Because we all know I don’t.
"What are we doing in here?" I ask, hugging my coat tighter around my torso, already missing my cozy bed.
Luke, of course, looks completely in his element as he gestures toward the small wooden stool beside a goat. "The day starts by milking Daisy."
I gape at him. "You cannot be serious."
"You want to prove you can handle farm work?” He leans against the stall door, arms crossed, looking far too entertained. "Then go on, city girl. Let’s see what you’ve got."
I hesitate, eyeing Daisy. She seems… indifferent. Which, in this case, is better than aggressive. I take a deep breath, kneel beside her, and reach for her udder, squeezing it in my fist with what I think is the correct technique.
Nothing happens.
I squeeze again and once more, zero milk comes out. Daisy gives me a look over her shoulder and bleats.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry, girl.”
Luke snorts. "You’re gonna be here all day."
I grit my teeth. "Then show me how to do this, farm boy."
His smirk deepens as he kneels beside me, his muscled arms enveloping me as he wraps his hands around mine, guiding them into the correct position. My breath catches at the sudden proximity.
His hands are rough, warm, and firm as they adjust mine into place. "Like this," he murmurs, his voice lower now, more focused. His grip is steady, confident—like he’s done this a thousand times before. Which, of course, he has.
With his hands around mine, he—we—start to milk Daisy. The milk fills the pail quickly as our hands move together.
The barn is cold, but suddenly, I feel very warm.
The scent of hay and leather fills my lungs, mingling with something distinctly Luke.
The usual sharp banter between us fades, replaced by something quieter.
Something heavier. I turn my head to glance at him, my heart stumbling when I realize how close his face is to mine.
Our eyes lock and the rest of the world ceases to exist. Just like in high school—except back then, it had always been missed chances, stolen glances, moments interrupted before they could turn into something more.
I remember how much I had wanted him to kiss me back then.
How much I had dreamed about it. And now…
now, the moment stretches between us, thick with the weight of something unfinished. Something inevitable.
His gaze flickers down to my lips, lingering just long enough to make my stomach tighten.
I don’t move. I don’t breathe. Neither does he.
The barn is silent, save for the faint creak of wood and the sound of my pulse thudding in my ears.
If he kisses me, I know it won’t be some high school crush coming to fruition. It’ll be real. It’ll change everything.
His fingers tighten around mine ever so slightly. He leans in just a fraction—
Just as his mouth is about to brush mine, Daisy kicks the pail, sending milk flying all over me.
I shriek, scrambling back as semi-warm liquid soaks my jeans and coat. Luke howls with laughter, actually doubling over while I glare daggers at both him and his demon goat.
"Oh, perfect," I grumble, holding out my dripping sleeves.
Luke wipes at his eyes, still grinning like this is the best entertainment he’s had in years. "Welcome to farm life, princess."
I cross my arms, shivering. "I hate everything."
"You sure you want to keep going? Quit now and we can call the whole thing off," he teases as he stands up and grabs another empty pail, setting it beneath Daisy.
I’m freezing, damp with raw goat milk, exhausted, and thoroughly humiliated.
But just as I’m about to say stick a candy cane in me, I’m done, something in how Luke effortlessly moves in the barn, so at home in this world, catches in my throat.
Maybe—just maybe—there’s something worth waking up for at five in the morning.
Maybe I’m meant to be here to learn something bigger than I can even imagine.
I lift my chin. "Not a chance."
Luke shakes his head, but there’s something different in his expression now. Less amusement, more… something else. Like he’s surprised. Like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t expect me to actually stick it out.
I don’t back down. Not from him, not from this challenge. Even if I do smell like goat milk for the rest of my life.