Chapter 7
Claire
My alarm went off at four a.m. sharp. For half a second, I forgot where I was.
Then my muscles reminded me. Orchard. Val-du-Lys.
Early mornings that didn’t care how late your thoughts kept you awake.
I groaned, rolled onto my side, and shut the alarm off before it could scream again.
The cabin was still dark, the air cool enough that I pulled the blanket tighter for one last breath before forcing myself upright.
Asher’s voice floated back into my head uninvited.
You don’t understand who you’re dealing with.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
“Neither do you,” I muttered to the empty room.
By the time I stepped outside, the sky was still ink-black, the orchard rows stretching out like quiet sentinels.
The air smelled damp and sweet. Exhaustion clung to me, but it was a familiar kind now.
I was halfway down the path when Elise appeared out of the shadows, already bundled up, hair tucked into a low braid.
“Morning,” she said.
“Barely,” I scoffed playfully.
She laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t know if that’s comforting or a warning.”
“Both,” she said easily.
A few rows later, Soleil joined us, walking backward for a few steps so she could face us.
“You look awake,” she said to me.
“I was sure I was sleepwalking,” I said.
She grinned and turned back around, falling into step beside Elise.
We worked through the morning without much talking.
Just hands moving, ladders shifting, crates filling.
There was something meditative about it the rhythm and the focus.
The way your body learned what to do before your brain caught up.
By the time the lunch break rolled around, my arms burned and my stomach reminded me I hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.
The barn felt welcoming when we stepped inside, sunlight pouring through the open doors.
I washed my hands, then went straight to the fridge.
Asher was already there, talking quietly with Jonah, his back to me.
I cleared my throat. “Hey.”
He turned, eyes flicking to my hands. To the brown paper bag I was holding.
“Yes?” he said.
“There are two sandwiches in the fridge,” I said. “For you.”
He frowned. “Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t like owing people anything.”
Jonah smirked. “Good luck with that.”
Asher crossed his arms. “You don’t owe me.”
“Still,” I said. “Eat at least one.”
His brow creased. “You made them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I sighed. “Because you’ve fed me twice. And because they’re really good.”
“That’s subjective,” he said dryly.
“The bread’s from the Maple Valley bakery,” I continued. “Focaccia. And I make my own fried egg recipe.”
That got his attention.
“You have a fried egg recipe,” he repeated.
“Don’t sound so judgmental,” I said. “Just try it.”
Soleil leaned in. “You should. She knows what she’s doing.”
Elise nodded. “I second that.”
Asher hesitated, clearly unused to being peer-pressured about lunch, then grabbed one of the sandwiches and sat at the far end of the table. I tried not to watch. He unwrapped it, took one bite, and froze. His eyes widened just a fraction. Then he took another bite. And another.
I bit down on my lip, suppressing a smile.
“This is—” he stopped himself, chewed, swallowed. “This is really good.”
“See?” I said lightly. “I told you.”
“What’s in it?” he asked.
“Egg, cheese dill, salt and pepper. Plus, my own secret sauce,” I said vaguely.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not telling me.”
“Nope.”
He shook his head, but there was something like reluctant amusement there. “You’re trouble.”
I snorted. “So I’ve been told.”
We ate in companionable quiet after that. When the break ended, Asher stood and tossed the wrapper.
“Thank you,” he said. “For the sandwich.”
“You’re welcome.”
Our eyes met for a second longer than necessary.
Then he turned back toward the rows, all business again.
I followed a moment later, my heart doing something stupid in my chest that I refused to analyze.
Because I was here for answers. And the orchard had already taught me that some truths came slowly.
And some connections, whether you wanted them or not, started to grow anyway.
“So good,” Soleil said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m offended you didn’t make these for the rest of us.”
“Next time,” I promised. “Assuming I survive the afternoon.”
“You will,” Elise said. “And tonight, you’re celebrating.”
I blinked. “Celebrating what?”
“Surviving your first full week,” Soleil said. “We’re doing a bonfire by the south fence. You’re coming.”
I hesitated. Kammy’s words echoed in my head.
Snooker tables. Nico and his friends. I’d planned on checking the place out tonight.
But staying to hang out made sense. I wanted to make friends here.
Besides my body was sore from the hard physical work since I wasn’t used to it so I wasn’t in the mood to get dressed up anyway.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll be there.”
Soleil grinned. “Good. Bring a jacket.”
By the time the sun dipped behind the trees, the orchard looked different.
Softer. Less imposing. Someone had dragged logs into a loose circle near the south fence, and a fire crackled in the center, sparks lifting into the darkening sky.
Beers appeared from coolers. Laughter came easier than it had all day.
I took a bottle and sat on one of the logs, letting the warmth seep into my bones.
The conversation drifted from work complaints to childhood stories to whose turn it was to bring snacks next time. It felt… normal.
Headlights cut across the field. I looked up just as a truck rolled to a stop nearby.
Asher climbed out. He was wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, and he looked too damn good.
For a split second, I wondered if the mood would shift or if everyone would stiffen or scatter.
But nothing changed as he walked up to the group.
A small smile curving his lips. He seemed lighter right now.
“About time,” Jonah called. “We thought you bailed.”
Asher grabbed a beer from the cooler and cracked it open. “I really shouldn’t be drinking this,” he muttered. “I’ve got a fight coming up.”
Soleil laughed. “You say that every time.”
“And then you win anyway,” Elise added. “So drink the beer.”
Someone else chimed in. “Crazy how he does that.”
“Yeah,” Jonah said. “I’ve seen him fight. It’s unreal.”
Asher took a sip, shaking his head. “You’re all exaggerating.”
“No, we’re not,” Soleil said. “You win almost all your matches.”
That caught my attention.
I turned toward him. “What kind of fighting do you do?”
He glanced at me, expression neutral. “MMA.”
“Oh,” I said. “Like… professional?”
“Mid-tier,” he corrected. “Nothing flashy.”
The firelight flickered across his face, highlighting a faint scar near his brow I hadn’t noticed before.
“That’s still intense,” I said.
“It keeps me busy,” he replied.
“And humble,” Soleil added. “Mostly.”
He shot her a look. “Mostly.”
Laughter rippled around the circle. The fire popped and cracked, sending warmth through the cool night air.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
The way he leaned back against the log. The way he listened more than he spoke.
The way everyone seemed comfortable around him, like they trusted him without needing to say it out loud.
This wasn’t the guarded, tense man who’d confronted me by my car.
This was an easy going, well liked, version of him.
I took a slow breath and leaned back, letting the moment exist without trying to analyze it.
Because for tonight, at least, I’d chosen the fire over the shadows of Sophie’s disappearance.
And maybe that mattered more than I realized.
Since Sophie disappeared, I spent most of my free time trying to figure out cases like hers.
I didn’t like what I learned. Some people had succumbed to the elements.
But that night was clear. Weather shouldn’t have been a factor.
I understood why she wasn’t reported missing.
People like Marcel Bellerose aren’t going to admit to losing people he’s trying to smuggle to the US.
And with no body as proof, it made his life easy.
The rest of the evening blurred into something easy.
Someone put music on their phone. It was a playlist that bounced between old favorites and whatever made people laugh.
There was dancing, mostly ridiculous and off-beat, the kind that didn’t require skill or self-consciousness.
Soleil spun Elise around. Jonah tried to moonwalk and nearly fell over. I laughed more than I expected to.
At one point, I stepped back to give Soleil room and didn’t see the branch at my feet until my heel caught. My hand stilled on his arm, my fingers curled instinctively around the muscle there, solid and warm beneath my palm.
Asher.
My breath hitched as I collided lightly into his chest. His other hand came up to my waist, firm but careful, like he was holding something fragile without meaning to.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, but I didn’t move right away. Neither did he.
For a heartbeat we just stood there, looking at each other.
Firelight danced across his face. His eyes were darker up close, intent in a way that made my pulse skip.
My hand stilled on his arm, my fingers curled instinctively around the muscles in his arm, solid and warm beneath my palm. Something electric hummed between us.
Then Soleil snorted. “Wow. Should I give you two a minute?”
Laughter exploded around us, the moment snapping like a rubber band.
Asher stepped back first, clearing his throat. “Watch your step,” he said, like his hands hadn’t just been on me.
“I will,” I managed, my voice steadier than I felt.
The night wound down not long after. People drifted off in twos and threes, the fire burning lower, conversation softening into tired goodbyes.
I felt pleasantly relaxed and happy as I made my way back toward my cabin.
I was tipsy. My thoughts were scattered.
I tried not to think about Asher. Tried not to think about his hands, his eyes and the way he’d caught me without hesitation. It didn’t work.
Inside the cabin, I kicked off my shoes and headed straight for the shower, craving hot water and clean skin.
Steam filled the small space as I stepped under the spray, washing away sweat and smoke and the lingering scent of the fire.
My thoughts wandered again. Asher leaning against the log.
Asher laughing. Heat curled low in my belly, surprising and unwelcome and very real.
I tilted my head back, letting the water run down my neck.
My skin felt warm and sensitive, my body reacting even while my brain told it to knock it off.
“This is a bad idea,” I muttered.
I finished up quickly, noticing my hard nipples while trying to convince myself I wasn’t hot and bothered by Asher.
I was a virgin, simply because I hadn’t met the right guy.
Even though that was probably my fault since I was always absorbed in school and not doing anything fun.
Then I remembered what Soleil said about Asher’s strict rule against dating his employees. He was a dead end.
I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my reflection for a long moment.
I was here for answers. For Sophie. For truth.
Not for a man with dangerous eyes and a habit of showing up exactly when I wasn’t prepared for him.
And yet, as I crawled into bed, I knew one thing for certain: avoiding Asher Thorne was already proving harder than I’d planned.