Snowy Skies and Puppy Eyes (Back to Belleville #1)

Prologue

The first time I saw Joe Milton he was cradling a magpie.

Cradling, not holding. Hands the size of dinner plates cupped so still, so calmly, he might as well have been a statue.

On a sun-drenched Tuesday mid-June, he was the last thing I expected to see when I stepped into the alley behind the grocery store I worked at—and secretly owned.

He sat on one of the wooden crates near the dumpsters, all solid muscle and gentility, and I was full of questions.

So many questions.

The loudest of which was, who are you?

At the time, Joe was nothing but a stranger.

I didn’t know his name.

Didn’t know where he came from.

Didn’t know why he was back here, blocking my way to the trash bins, like it was a totally normal place to be.

But I burned with the urge to cross that distance and demand answers from him. I didn’t, and I wouldn’t—but I wanted to. The sudden upsurge of curiosity felt familiar as an old friend.

I’d been the kinda kid who unpicked knots just to see what yarn looked like unravelled. I could always guess, yes. Use my imagination. But nothing was more satisfying than seeing it with my own two eyes.

You’d think I’d have grown out of that, but I hadn’t.

My entire life, I’d seen people as lessons. Maybe it was a way to cope with growing up the way I did. Or maybe it was just who I was, broken from the get-go. Internalizing the words my dad had told me once—when I was so little I’d practically been a mirror—and making them my entire personality.

“Your worth is determined by what you give,” he’d taught me. “What are you worth, Jason?”

I’d asked him why he was leaving. Why he and Mom were going out of town for a charity event when all I’d wanted was for them to stay. Just once. Just once, I wanted to spend Christmas Eve like the families I saw on TV.

Instead, I’d gotten emotionally eviscerated.

You know, classic Dad stuff.

His answer snapped me to attention. Had filled the blank journal of who I was in red ink. I’d decided right then and there that I’d be like him. I wouldn’t complain. I’d do what I was meant to. I’d help people, and my life would be worth something. I would be worth something.

And if I was…if I was useful then maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t have to always be alone.

It wasn’t until later that I’d realized his and mother’s generosity was surface level. They cared about the praise they received more than the people they helped.

I didn't want to be that way.

And yet...Dad’s words had altered me.

I was used to cold rooms, cold people. People who wanted me for my money, my connections. People who wanted nothing to do with me because of those same things.

From the day I’d made it home, Belleville had felt like an alternate dimension. People gave because they were kind. Not because they wanted recognition. I’d wanted nothing more than to fit in.

When my marriage ended, rather than being subject to cruel words, my porch was covered in casseroles.

And that changed me, too.

I’d done everything I could to hide that part of myself, terrified my peaceful little paradise wouldn’t accept me for who I was, and where I came from.

For decades, I’d made it my mission to be useful. The townies had taught me how to be a “real” person, how to care about people, how to help people. What it meant to be part of a community.

And though my love for them had never turned stagnant, I had.

Nothing rocked my foundation.

And the projects that had once meant so much to me didn’t fill the silence in my head anymore. I was exhausted. The days dragged on, and I dragged on with them.

I’d sunk into a sort of daze, hibernating in my day-to-day life.

Searching for the spark I’d once had.

For something…new.

And here he was.

Right in front of me.

The enigma I’d been waiting for. A man who attracted wildlife like a beefy, manly version of Snow White. Turning boring alleys into fairy tales. Making my dull days bright—even if he didn’t know it.

I sucked in a breath, a smile lighting up my face as I hungrily took him in.

Clothing could tell you a lot about a person.

Which was why I was very particular about my own.

Why I let my sneakers get ratty. Why I never bought fabric that screamed anything other than “normal”.

No cashmere or silk for me, no siree. Just the basics.

Sweaters, t-shirts, jeans, and khakis that didn’t totally clash with my work apron or my hair.

Everything about how I presented myself was carefully constructed.

Other people did that too, even if they didn’t realize it.

Clothing would’ve been the first thing I noticed about my stranger if he hadn’t literally been holding a goddamn bird in his hands—seriously.

That took the cake, I feel, for obvious reasons.

Now that I’d gotten over the bird thing—I mean, kinda gotten over the bird thing—I did notice what he was wearing.

The stranger had overalls on.

Work boots.

A long-sleeve white t-shirt that clung to every dip and cranny of his impressive build. There were twigs in his hair. A smudge of dirt on his chin. Frown lines at the corners of his mouth. Creases that made him appear world-weary when his youth should’ve offered him grace.

A working man.

That’s what he was.

What occupation? I had no idea. A farm, maybe. The affinity for animals made me think he was used to nature.

Splotches of sunlight crept down the cobblestone street, painting the stranger’s knees, his nose, the thick crop of cornsilk blond hair atop his head. Turning him gold where he wasn’t golden. Carved from marble like a farm boy Adonis. Gilded to last.

I’d always been good at reading people.

One glance was usually all it took.

As my attention shifted from his clothes to his face, there was no denying that. He wasn’t layers so much as he was a brick wall of a man. And his lips, his eyebrows, his expression overall told me nothing.

His eyes, though?

Christ.

As the shadows lifted from his brow and I ducked my head to see better, the stranger’s gaze came into focus. He was staring down at the bird, barely blinking he was so enraptured.

There was this…wondrous sort of light in his eyes.

The kind of light that made me certain—stranger or not—that bird was in safe hands. The door swung shut behind me with a loud thud. I grimaced, guilt filling me as the bird took flight.

White and black feathers cut through dust motes, casting shadows through the air as the bird soared high, high, high and away. The stranger’s head tipped back. He watched till the very last second.

Then he turned to regard me.

A shiver coursed through my body, my hands spasming on the boxes I’d brought back here to toss in the recycling bin. For a moment, we simply looked at one another. There was an annoyed tick to the stranger’s brow that hadn’t been there before.

Those stormy eyes glared into mine, and the rest of the world ceased to exist at all.

“What’s your name?” I couldn’t help but ask, still juggling the box.

He huffed, then turned back to the empty cerulean sky like I wasn’t there at all.

“You must be new in town!” I tried again, taking a step forward.

“I’ve never seen you before. Where’d you move from?

I’m assuming from the twigs in your hair that you’ve been hard at work.

What brings you to my humble alleyway? The bird?

I’d assume so. Given the fact I just caught you with it. ”

Again, he ignored me.

I took another step, acting like I was heading for the recycling bin and not him. Which, technically, could be true—except that it wasn’t. And the only thing on my mind was getting an answer to at least one of my questions.

“I’m Jason,” I introduced myself, continuing to cross the distance between us.

I moved slowly, the same way he had with the bird, worried I’d scare him off.

“I work at the grocery store. And I—” A few more steps and I’d be at the bin.

He still hadn’t looked at me. “Know pretty much everything there is to know about this town and the people in it. So, if you ever need help, just let me kn—”

“I don’t need help,” the man cut me off.

His voice was quiet, rough—and yet…oddly melodic. It made me trip a little, which was seriously embarrassing. I blamed the uneven pavement. Yep. Totally was not tripping because he sounded like honey spread over warm toast.

“Sure you do!” I chirped, finally reaching the dumpster and tossing my boxes inside. I twisted to look at him. My heart was pounding. He was even bigger up close. And…honest to god, he smelled like sunshine.

Sunshine and apples.

I barely resisted the urge to lean in and sniff.

The look he was giving me was genuinely offended. Even the suggestion he might need my help made his eyes blaze.

“Everyone needs help sometimes,” I told him, poking the metaphorical bear.

“Not me. I can take care of myself.” Tall-blond-and-beefy rose to his full height, looming over me, his shadow casting me in darkness. He didn’t say the words like they were a challenge—but hell, I couldn’t stop myself from taking them like one.

The gauntlet had just been thrown.

“When you do—” I started, maybe a little cockily, this little thrill running through me as his nostrils flared in response.

“And you change your mind—” Liquid quick, he side-stepped around me like I was diseased.

He was surprisingly agile for a man of his size, and I nearly tripped again turning to watch as he darted toward the mouth of the alley as fast as he could without outright sprinting.

“You know where to find me!” I hollered at his retreating back, both intrigued and amused by the fact that he’d literally sprinted away from me. Quicker than I could blink, the stranger disappeared around the corner like the bird had fled into the sky.

“Tough crowd,” I sighed, though there was no one to hear.

For a moment, I waited to see if he’d come back, but he didn’t.

I wasn’t surprised, given how fast he’d run off. Nor was I disappointed. I had no doubt I’d be seeing more of Belleville’s newest addition soon enough.

While I headed back inside the building, I couldn’t help but think of feathers, of a square jaw, of thick, gentle, tan hands. Of sunshine and apples. Of the mystery I’d uncovered, the stranger I’d met, and the gauntlet he’d unknowingly thrown my way.

Something told me this man was going to teach me the greatest lesson of all.

I grinned.