Chapter Three
Juniper
The fall market in Pine Hollow is the kind of small-town event you either fall in love with or run screaming from. Brightly colored booths, the scent of cider and kettle corn, and handmade everything fill the town square. Naturally, I want to go, and Elias thinks that’s a terrible idea.
“I have work,” he grunts from under the truck he’s been tinkering with all morning.
“You always have work.” I fold my arms and lean against the porch railing. “The walls are framed, the roof’s on, and we’ve got at least a week before Wren gets here. The living room can wait one afternoon.”
He pushes out from under the truck, grease on his cheek and suspicion in his eyes. “You just want caramel apples.”
“That, and to be seen with my grumpy husband,” I chirp, brushing my hair off my shoulder. “We are legally married, remember?”
His eyes narrow. “You’re up to something.”
“Oh, definitely.” I smile. “You coming?”
He scrubs a hand over his face and mutters something that sounds like a curse, but he grabs his flannel from the hook anyway.
Downtown is buzzing. Kids run past in puffy vests, leaves crunch under boots, and someone’s playing bluegrass near the bakery. The scent of maple, cinnamon, and roasted peanuts fills the air. People wave as we pass, curious eyes lingering longer than I’d like.
Dottie spots us from the front of the general store. She’s wearing a bright orange vest over her overalls, a mug of cider in hand.
“Well, well,” she calls out. “Would you look at this, Elias Boone in public with a woman.”
“I’m his wife,” I say brightly, looping my arm through his. “Surprise!”
Dottie barks out a laugh. “I had to hear it from Judge Peterson’s sister’s cousin’s neighbor. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Elias say more than a word or two. He definitely didn’t tell anyone he was getting married.”
“He’s very chatty at home,” I say dryly.
Dottie eyes Elias with a smirk. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”
“I always do,” he mutters.
“You want cider or muffins?” Dottie asks.
“Both,” I say before Elias can open his mouth.
As we wait, a slender brunette with a messy bun and flour on her apron rushes over from the bakery booth next door.
“Juniper, right?” she says, beaming. “I’m Annie, I run the bakery. Welcome to Pine Hollow!”
“Thank you!” I smile back, already liking her.
She hands me a bag. “Maple sugar cookies, on the house. You’ll need something sweet to survive living with that one.”
Elias grunts again, which only makes her and Dottie laugh.
“He doesn’t talk much, does he?” Annie teases.
“He grunts when he’s happy,” I say. “And sometimes when he’s not.”
“He’s been a ghost since his parents passed, and now his sister’s gone too,” Dottie says gently. “Didn’t think he’d ever let someone in again.”
Elias stiffens beside me. I reach over and take his hand. He doesn’t pull away.
We browse for a while, taking in handmade candles, wood carvings, and quilts. He doesn’t say much, but he never strays far from me. His presence is large, solid, and quiet. I’m halfway through debating between two scented soaps when I hear it.
“Well, if it isn’t the bride of Boone.”
I turn to see a pair of older women whispering behind a display of crocheted scarves. Their voices aren’t exactly quiet.
“Didn’t even know he was seeing anyone.”
“Heard she came from some website. Mail-order, can you believe that?”
I square my shoulders, but before I can say anything, Elias steps behind me. One large hand settles on the small of my back.
“Something to say?” His voice is calm, but there’s a warning in it that makes the women shuffle off without a word. He doesn’t move his hand. Doesn’t look at me. Just stares after them until they’re gone.
“Elias?” I ask softly.
He finally looks down, and there’s something stormy in his eyes. Protective. Intense.
“You okay?”
I nod. “It’s fine. People talk.”
“They don’t talk to you like that.”
My chest tightens, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
We keep walking, and the air between us shifts. Every time someone looks too long, Elias shifts closer. When a guy at the cider booth tries to flirt with me, asking if I’m new in town, smiling too much, Elias doesn’t say a word.
He just steps in, slow and deliberate, and wraps an arm around my waist. Not subtle. Not accidental.
The guy blinks, nods, and retreats fast.
Later, as we sit on a bench with cider and donuts, I glance over at him.
“You were jealous.”
His jaw ticks. “No.”
“Oh, come on.” I sip my cider. “You nearly vaporized that poor cider guy.”
“He was leering.”
“He asked if I liked extra cinnamon.”
“Exactly.”
A laugh bursts out of me, and Elias looks like he wants to argue, but also maybe wants to kiss me. Or throttle me. Possibly both.
I lean in a little. “You were jealous.”
“I’m not discussing this.”
“You’re brooding. Your face gives you away.”
His eyes darken. “You think this is funny?”
“I think it’s fascinating.”
The silence stretches between us. The fall breeze lifts my hair. I know I’ve pushed him, maybe too far, but I can’t help it. Something is thrilling about poking the bear and watching him barely hold it together.
“You shouldn’t tease like that,” he says finally. Low. Rough.
“Why not?”
“Because I might stop pretending I don’t want you.” He stands, offering me a hand. “Let’s go.”
My fingers slip into his, and his grip tightens like he doesn’t plan on letting go. We walk back to the truck in silence, but everything between us crackles. The air is heavy with words unspoken and touches untried.
Back at the cabin, we don’t speak much. He disappears into the bedroom for a shower. I wander into the kitchen and find a fresh bouquet of wildflowers in a jar on the counter. He never mentions picking them, but there have been new flowers every few days.
When he reappears, towel slung over his shoulder, damp hair curling at his neck, I nearly drop the mug I’m holding.
“Tomorrow,” he says, clearing his throat, “we finish the living room framing.”
I nod. “We’ll make it before Wren gets here.”
He meets my eyes, then nods once before disappearing into the bedroom.
I finish my tea with a racing heart, knowing sleep won’t come easily.
Not when he’s in the next room.