Chapter 5
Harper
Emma Morgan is a force of nature in a vintage dress.
"So," she sets two massive mugs of coffee on the table between us, "you spent the night with Dean McKnight, huh? I'm impressed."
"I didn't—we didn't—" I sputter into my coffee. It's perfect, because of course it is. "My truck broke down."
"Mmhmm." She perches on the worn leather chair like it's a throne.
The coffee shop around us is a masterpiece of controlled chaos – mismatched furniture, local art, and the kind of atmosphere that makes you want to curl up and never leave.
"And of all the cabins in all of Montana, you broke down at his. "
"You make it sound like fate."
"Honey, in Wylde Mountain? Everything's fate." Her green eyes sparkle with mischief. "Especially tall, brooding men who don't let anyone past their property line, suddenly playing knight in shining armor."
I think about last night. About confessions in the dark. About waking up feeling safe for the first time in months. "He was just being kind."
Emma's laugh is warm and knowing. "Dean McKnight doesn't do 'just' anything. Trust me, I've known him since we were kids. That man guards his solitude like a dragon guards gold."
Through the window, I can see him talking to someone, all broad shoulders and purposeful stride. He looks up, catches me watching, and something electric passes between us before Emma clears her throat.
"Lord, you two could be a Hallmark movie." She leans forward, dropping her voice. "Listen, I know you probably have your reasons for coming here. Everyone does. But whatever they are? Don't let them stop you from something real."
"I barely know him."
"But you want to."
The bell over the door chimes before I can respond. Dean fills the doorway, and my heart does that stupid flutter thing again.
"Ready?" His voice is gruff, but his eyes are soft when they meet mine.
"Almost." Emma stands, smoothing her dress. "Just need to give her the grand tour. You can go back to your mountain."
Something flashes across his face. "I'll wait."
"Suit yourself." Emma grabs my hand. "Come on, future bestseller supplier. Let me show you your new kingdom."
I follow her through the connecting door, trying not to feel Dean's gaze like a physical touch. The bookstore is dark, dusty, and perfect. Shelves climb to the ceiling, wooden floors creak invitingly, and a spiral staircase leads to a second floor that makes my bibliophile heart skip.
"Previous owner was my great-aunt," Emma explains, flipping switches. Light floods the space, catching dust motes like fairy dust. "She'd be happy knowing it's going to someone who'll love it."
"I do." The words come out reverent. This is it. My fresh start. My escape. My chance to build something that's purely mine. "I really do."
"Good." She hands me a ring of keys, old brass warm against my palm. "Because Wylde Mountain needs more people who believe in magic."
"Even if they come with scandal attached?"
Her smile turns fierce. "Honey, especially then."
Back in the coffee shop, Dean's waiting exactly where we left him. Emma gives him a look I can't decipher, then pulls me into a crushing hug.
"Welcome home," she whispers. "Try not to break him. He's one of our favorite grumpy locals."
I watch her sashay away, wondering what I've gotten myself into. Small town life. A dusty bookstore. A coffee shop owner who sees too much.
And Dean McKnight, still watching me like I'm a puzzle he can't solve.
"Need a ride back to the cabin?" he asks quietly. "To get your things?"
Yes. No. Maybe. Everything in me wants to run. Everything in me wants to stay.
"Please. I just want to take a quick look at my apartment first."
His smile is small but real. Like a secret. Like a promise.
Emma's already unlocking the side door that leads to the upstairs apartment when we hear it. The steady drip-drip-drip of water hitting wood.
"Oh no." She freezes halfway up the stairs. "No, no, no."
Water trickles down the steps like tears. My heart sinks as we follow the sound to its source – a burst pipe in the bathroom, spraying an impressive arc across what should have been my new bedroom.
"Ice storm." Dean's voice is grim behind me. "Pipes weren't winterized."
"I'll call Jake." Emma's already on her phone. "This is probably happening all over town. The freeze hit fast this time."
I stand in the doorway, watching my fresh start dissolve into a puddle at my feet. Three months of planning. All my savings. My escape route, currently drowning in Montana winter.
"How long?" I manage to ask. "To fix it?"
Emma's expression is sympathetic as she lowers her phone. "Jake says at least a week, probably more. Every plumber in the county will be slammed with emergencies."
"But..." I press my fingers to my temples. My truck's still broken down near his cabin, all my belongings locked inside. No apartment, no vehicle, no plan. "Where am I supposed to stay?"
"Hotel's full with the ski crowd," Emma says. "I'd offer my place, but my cousin's in town with her twins..."
"She'll stay with me."
Dean's words land like thunder in the wet silence. I turn to find him watching me, expression unreadable.
"Dean..." Emma's warning tone makes him straighten.
"Got a perfectly good guest cabin. Already know she doesn't snore." His attempt at humor falls flat as our eyes meet. "Unless you'd rather find somewhere else?"
Somewhere else. In a town where I don't know anyone. Where I just arrived in his truck, wearing his clothes, trailing scandal like perfume.
"You're sure?"
He nods once. Decisive. Final.
"First things first," Emma says, her grin entirely too knowing. "Let's call Miller's Towing for your truck, get those boxes somewhere dry. Jake's got some storage units behind the real estate office."
"I can handle the tow," Dean says. "Got a friend at the garage who owes me a favor."
I think about my carefully packed life, sitting in my broken-down truck on a mountain road. About spending another night in Dean's guest cabin , this time on purpose. About small towns and scandals and fresh starts that look nothing like I planned.
"One week," I say, more to myself than them. "I can handle one week."
Emma's laugh suggests she knows better. "Honey, in Wylde Mountain? A lot can happen in a week."
The way Dean's watching me, I'm starting to believe her.
"I'll make the calls," Dean says, already pulling out his phone. He steps away, voice low as he arranges things with whoever owes him that favor.
Emma helps me mop up what water we can reach, her vintage dress somehow staying pristine even as she wrings out towels. "Storage unit's yours as long as you need it. Jake keeps a few empty for emergencies."
"Does this town have emergencies often?"
"Honey, we're at the foot of a mountain. Everything's an emergency or nothing is." She winks. "You'll learn."
Dean returns, keys jingling. "Miller's sending his son out for the truck now. He'll meet us there, tow it to Pete's garage. Pete says he can look at it tomorrow morning."
The efficiency of small-town connections is both comforting and unnerving.
We pile into Dean's truck again, retracing our path up the mountain. The morning sun turns everything into crystal, ice still clinging to trees despite the rising temperature. It should be beautiful. Instead, all I can think about is how quickly life can freeze and shatter.
My truck sits exactly where we left it, looking forlorn against the pristine snow. A blue tow truck is already pulling up, a gangly teenager jumping out.
"Mr. McKnight," he nods, all business despite his age. "This the one?"
While they handle the logistics, I unlock my truck and start gathering the essentials I'll need. Clothes. Toiletries. Laptop. The manuscript I've been pretending not to work on.
"Need help?" Dean appears at my elbow, making me jump.
"I've got it." But my voice wavers as I look at the boxes. My whole life, packed up and categorized. "Actually... maybe with the heavy ones?"
We work in silence, transferring boxes from my truck to his. The tow truck driver – Jack, according to his cheerful chatter – hooks up my vehicle with practiced ease.
"Dad's place is the blue building behind the hardware store," he tells me, handing over a card. "We’re the only truck rental place in town, we were looking for you to arrive yesterday." He glances at Dean. “But no charge for the tow or extra night of course. See ya’ around!”
Just like that, my truck disappears down the mountain, carrying with it my original plans for a smooth transition to small-town life.
"Ready?" Dean asks quietly.
I look at my truck being towed away, at the boxes in his truck, at this man who keeps showing up exactly when I need him. Words fail me, so I just nod.
"Lead the way."
We follow the tow truck down, but turn off toward Jake's office instead of the garage. The storage units are small but clean, and Jake himself appears with coffee and keys.
"Welcome to Wylde Mountain," he grins, helping us unload as I realize he’s the one I saw Dean speaking to earlier. "Sorry about the apartment. Emma says you're staying with Dean?"
Something in his tone makes me blush. "Just until the pipes are fixed."
"Right." He and Dean exchange a look I can't read. "Well, let me know if you need anything."
An hour later, my life is neatly tucked away in storage unit seven, except for two boxes and a duffel bag of necessities. Sitting in Dean's truck again, watching the town wake up properly, I feel oddly light. Like maybe sometimes you have to let things break to find out what's truly solid.
"Home?" Dean asks, then clears his throat. "I mean, to the cabin?"
"Yes," I say, and mean it more than I should. "Home."