Chapter 15
SATURDAY
“WELCOME TO JUNIPER Valley’s Annual Strawberry Festival Auction.”
The crowd clapped and cheered. Taylor was impressed with the turnout.
There was a low murmur of voices as people mingled around the cocktail tables or sat in conversational circles in the chairs brought from inside.
Quite a few mingled in the green space, avoiding the watery mess marked off with yellow caution tape.
The gazebo was safe, and a few couples chatted under the twinkle lights.
He caught sight of the mistletoe hanging in the entrance.
He remembered what Chelsey had said earlier when he questioned why the Christmas ornamentation still hung there.
“It shouldn’t matter what season it is to give someone the chance to kiss their sweetheart.”
Did she realize how close he came to kissing her a few moments ago inside? How much he ached to take away the pain and loneliness that showed on her face and in her eyes? Would they ever be in a world together that they could ease one another’s burdens?
Taylor noticed it in the smallest shift in her face when she withdrew her hand from his. Chelsey’s smile stayed, but it no longer reached for him. Her teasing came a beat later, careful, like she was measuring how much of herself to give away.
She wasn’t pulling away from him.
She was pulling inward.
That understanding settled in his chest and, for once, he didn’t try to fix it or outrun it.
He recognized that instinct well, the part of him that believed movement solved everything and proved you were busy and productive.
He’d lived that way for years. Airports, contracts, cities that welcomed him without asking him to stay.
Chelsey didn’t need momentum.
She needed patience.
His focus sharpened on her.
His brain—traitorous, strategic, future-planning machine that it was—had already skipped ahead.
He adjusted a table with a volunteer, barely registering the conversation, his thoughts threading somewhere deeper.
What am I actually doing here?
Juniper Valley had been a temporary stop, a job. He had a career that didn’t belong to small towns and pop-up festivals. Remote work gave him flexibility, sure—but not roots. He shouldn’t be thinking about roots.
And yet…
His gaze found Chelsey again across the space, directing a group with calm authority, one hand gesturing, the other tucked at her side like she held the entire event together by sheer will.
Could I stay?
The question shook him. He’d never planned on living in the valley again. He’d dreamed of Chelsey making the move with him. He knew he could work remotely. Travel once a month—twice if needed. Keep one foot in his old life and…what? Build something here? Build something with her?
Taylor exhaled slowly, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. That was the part his brain kept circling. What are we, Chelsey?
Right now, they were orbiting something undefined. Too intentional to be casual. Too unspoken to be real. He could already see the safest version of this. He stays in touch. Visits when work brings him nearby. The become long-distance friends. The kind that wonders about past regrets.
Taylor’s jaw tightened. That option sat wrong. But what was the alternative?
He glanced at her again, this time catching the brief flicker of exhaustion she masked the second someone approached.
What if she doesn’t want the same thing?
Chelsey had plans. Structure. A life that didn’t look like it had space for variables named Taylor. He hadn’t put anything on the table that required an answer. Because asking meant risking and risking meant hearing no.
Taylor let out a quiet breath. Okay. Then what am I willing to do?
Not hypothetically. Not someday. Now.
He could stay. Why didn’t that thought surprise him?
He could shift his work, anchor himself here more permanently, travel out when needed. It would be a change, but not a sacrifice he’d resent.
But…
Am I willing to choose her…without knowing if she’ll choose me back?
A volunteer called his name, pulling him briefly into the moment as he helped reposition another table. His hands worked automatically while his mind revolved around the answer. Because that answer mattered.
This was more than the logistics and more than the town. He looked up again and this time Chelsey looked back. As if checking on his location.
Something in his chest steadied and a decision started to form. He wouldn’t default to distance again. He wasn’t going to file Chelsey away as a “what if.” He wanted to be all in, even if it meant staying. Even if it meant asking a question and hearing an answer he didn’t want.
Safe wouldn’t be enough anymore.
Taylor leaned back against the aspen tree and let a decision form quietly as he watched Chelsey work the crowd.
If he wanted any relationship with her again—even friendship—he couldn’t rely on the weight of shared history.
He couldn’t point to what they had been and ask her to remember the good ol’ days.
He would have to woo her. Slowly. Intentionally.
As if none of the old memories existed, except as a foundation.
What were some of the best memories they’d had together so many years ago?
The ones that created a closer bond between the two of them.
Holding hands while roller skating; sharing greasy fries at Smokin’ BBQ; lying on the grass by Goose Creek and looking for falling stars; sitting beside her in the tiny theater, watching Pride & Prejudice—a movie she’d picked, and he willingly went along just to be near her.
He didn’t want to recreate the past. He needed to add new memories.
Taylor exhaled, feeling lighter for the first time since he’d come back. At the very least, he hoped to rebuild his relationship with Chelsey and see where that led.
Her laugh brought him back to the GP and the auction.
This time, he wasn’t going anywhere.
PEOPLE GATHERED CLOSER to the stage as Police Chief Daley, the emcee for the night, did a mic check.
She wore black slacks, a white shirt and a huge, light-up strawberry necklace and earrings.
Taylor briefly wondered if Heather made the jewelry.
He leaned against an aspen tree farther from the gathering area so he could keep an eye on Chelsey as she mingled and welcomed people, “shaking hands and kissing babies,” as Dan Walker used to say.
From the moment he saw her eyeing the muddy mess only an hour ago, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her.
He hadn’t seen her dressed up since prom over seven years ago.
Today, she was a strawberry dream. The dress hit just above her knees, exposing her long legs, which were accentuated by the polka dot wedges.
Her hair fell in soft waves and her makeup shimmered in the overhead lights.
The temporary tattoo had faded, but was still there, reminding him of the moment he’d touched the cold napkin to her skin and she shivered.
He wanted to sneak her off to the gazebo and kiss her until they were both breathless. He would wait.
Chelsey helped hand out bidding cards and strawberry pastries. He almost forgot about the raspberry fritter sitting on the front seat of his car. He’d give it to her after the auction when she’d need the sugar to get through cleanup.
Taylor jolted out of his thoughts as the tuba player started playing the high school fight song. The alumni proudly sang along. Chelsey was a brilliant marketer, getting everyone in a festive and nostalgic mood for bidding.
He glanced up when he heard Chelsey’s voice join in the melody. She looked more relaxed and happier since the road crew announced they had the water contained and would wait until after the last bid to fix the road. That’s why she glowed, nothing to do with him. But he wanted it to be about him.
The police chief tapped the mic to get the crowd’s attention, and every eye was drawn to the stage.
“Hello, Juniper Valley! I’m Paula Daley and I’ll be your emcee tonight.
” The crowd roared their approval. “Before starting the festivities, we’d like to tell you about where the money is going.
” She cleared her throat. “One hundred percent of the proceeds is going to Little Homes, Big Hearts. Building homes for our brave veterans who need a place to live. Will all the vets please rise if you can and give us a wave.”
At least twenty men and women, in uniforms from at least three different conflicts, waved to the crowd.
The oldest, Owen Leoyd, a Vietnam vet, stood slowly and saluted the crowd.
All around him and the other vets, people rose from their seats, hands clapping their appreciation.
The school band started up again, this time playing the national anthem as the JROTC marched onto the stage carrying the flag.
Taylor’s hand covered his heart automatically, though it had been years since he’d participated in any kind of patriotic sentiment.
A surprising surge of emotion caught him off guard—an appreciation and longing for his country, his home.
His gaze found Chelsey—the girl he’d never stopped loving. Tears stung his eyes as he sang along.
Home of the brave, indeed. He was home, and it was high time he started acting brave.
“Thank you for your service.” The police chief cleared her throat again. Someone handed her a tissue and she wiped her eyes. “You’re an example of bravery and patriotism and we’re proud to call you family.”
When Paula got her emotions under control, she announced it was time for the bachelors to come to the stage. Good-natured hoots and hollers followed the reading of each name.
“Corbin Walker—well, his daddy said he’s not coming tonight because he got appendicitis, just like some elementary school kid. Would you like to update us, Dan?”