3. Kassie
KASSIE
Itucked the phone between my shoulder and ear, continuing to stir the juicy fruit and sugar in the bowl.
“That’s great, Laura!”
“I know,” she replied. “She wants it for two months but says her client might only need part of the time, though will pay for the entire stay.”
“I didn’t expect such a long booking so soon. Where is she coming from?”
“California. LA, to be precise.”
I paused with a frown. “Why would someone come to Richton for two months from LA?”
“I gather she’s in the industry and is part of a movie shoot happening here.”
“Oh, I heard about that. A cowboy movie.”
“Yep. Brent and the boys are excited that they’re using the Colby Ranch as a backdrop. Sadie is pretty pumped too. She is going to be an extra—in fact, they’re using most of the hands.” She chuckled. “I think even John and Quinn are going to get in on it. And of course, Cody and Abby.”
I laughed with her. Quinn owned the restaurant Kind of a Big Dill.
I baked pies for her as a side hustle. It was a great break from accounting.
I knew her husband John and daughter Abby, or “Pumpkin,” as John called her.
Her son, Cody, was a regular at the diner, as were Laura and Bob, her husband.
They were a great bunch. I had gone to school with Laura and reconnected when I’d moved back to Richton a couple of years ago.
She’d helped me find this house and, with all her connections, assisted with the renovations, including listing and maintaining the rental unit on the second floor.
Richton wasn’t a mecca for visitors, but I’d had a few rentals, and this one was going to be a boon.
“Are you interested in being an extra?” Laura asked. “I know there’s an email where you can sign up.”
“Maybe,” I hummed, not sure I was keen on the idea.
“It’ll be great for the town’s economy. I know the local hotels are booked, and most of the businesses are hiring. Quinn said they contacted her about some catering. The whole town is excited,” Laura said with another chuckle. “And filming doesn’t even start for a while, I think.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Okay. I’ll send you over the contract. The agent has already paid in full, so it’s all good.”
“Fabulous.”
I hung up, thinking about how lucky I was.
Moving back here hadn’t been planned, but it had happened.
Reconnecting with Laura had been serendipitous.
She was a real estate agent and a fellow accountant.
She admitted the real estate portion of her career was so busy she was having to give up accounting clients, and she was thrilled to pass them on to me.
That was how I met Quinn. I’d gone by to go over her bookkeeping the same day she’d lost one of her suppliers.
“Damn,” she swore, sliding into the booth where I was waiting. “Pies are huge here, and I have no time to bake them anymore. Josie made good pies, and they sold out continually.”
I leaned forward, eager. “I make great pies.”
“Really?”
I nodded. I had always loved baking, and pies were my thing. “Cherry, blueberry, lemon, pumpkin, apple, raspberry. You name it. I have some specialty combinations I’ve made up, and my caramel apple is to die for. I also do banana cream, Boston cream, coconut—”
Quinn held up her hand, stopping me. “Bring me a sample, and we’ll talk. I need at least six pies a day. Can you handle that?”
“Yes.”
That started my side gig. I had expanded the kitchen and had it licensed just for pie-making.
It was at the back of the house, with industrial ovens, a long marble counter for making the pastry, and lots of cupboards for supplies.
The back wall was all windows I could open and let the fresh air in and the heat out.
The smell of cooling pies filled the area at least twice a week—often more.
I made sure to take my neighbors some of the smaller pies I made with scraps, so they didn’t mind.
A massive freezer held ready-to-bake pies and extra pie crusts, so I was always ready to bake more if needed.
The contract came through on my email, and I scanned it quickly, knowing if Laura had looked it over, it would be correct.
I tucked it into the filing cabinet, feeling blessed.
My home-based accounting services were going well.
Baking pies made me happy and kept me in the loop of the town.
Quinn and I had become fast friends. I had Laura too, plus a few other people I had met.
I loved the house, the quiet street, and now I had a boarder for a couple of months.
I didn’t want the hassle of a full-time tenant, but the occasional occupant I didn’t mind.
So far, I had been lucky, and all the guests had been easy and enjoyed the space.
I had no reason to think this longer-term stay would be any different.
A few days later, I blinked at the man in front of me. I had heard the car arrive and thought I would go welcome my new temporary tenant. Laura had told me that the woman had let her know she was renting the space for a male client and promised he wouldn’t cause any problems.
But I hadn’t expected it to be him.
Oliver Hart stood in front of me, no longer the boy I once knew.
I once loved.
He was taller. Broader. More handsome in real life than on the screen, if that were possible.
His dark hair was cut close to his head, the wave in it still visible.
He sported thick scruff that only defined his strong jawline instead of hiding it.
His bright-blue eyes were the same, beautiful and haunting.
And as shocked as mine no doubt were.
Still, his voice was calm, his greeting casual.
“Hello, Kassie.”
As though we had only seen each other yesterday—not twelve years ago.
As if the past hadn’t happened.
As if he hadn’t ripped my heart from my chest, walked away, and forgotten about me, after promising never to do so.
He had the nerve to look at me and act normal.
“You,” I hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He stepped closer, his voice low. “I’m your tenant.”
“The hell you are.”
“My agent rented the place for me.”
“If I had known it was you, I would have refused.”
He nodded as though he were agreeing with me. “Well, I’m here, and the lease is paid. I’ll stay out of your way.”
“Find another rental.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. I know how small this town is, and the crew is taking most of the available spaces. I’m certain the hotels are booked.”
“Go to Toronto,” I replied, my voice tight.
“I need to stay here.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated.
The muscles in his arm flexed, and I noticed how big his hands were.
They had always been long, but now they were the hands of a man, not a boy.
Thick and strong, the veins standing out on the backs like small road maps under his skin.
“Look, I didn’t know it was your place. I thought you’d left Richton. ”
“I came back.”
“I never would have accepted if I had known it was you.”
I glared, and he held up his hand. “I didn’t mean because it’s you, but because I wouldn’t have wanted to make you uncomfortable.”
“Well, I am.”
“You’ll barely see me.”
I stared at him. I wouldn’t have to see him to know he was there. He would be above me, walking, talking, showering. It would be a constant reminder of the past I’d tried so hard to forget.
And I would have to put up with it for weeks.
“Please,” he said simply.
He stepped closer, and I saw something in his face that made me pause before refusing and sending him on his way.
He was still handsome, but being this near to him, I could see he was tired, the faint lines around his mouth and eyes suggesting anxiety.
Even his gaze was tormented. Silently begging.
I made a decision I was certain I would regret quickly.
“Make sure you stay out of my way.”
I turned and ran.