Chapter 7 Small Towns and Big Mouths
Small Towns and Big Mouths
Kate
I'm still pacing, still muttering about how Maxwell is going to fire me for real this time, when I finally notice Grayson.
He's sitting in the armchair across the room. Perfectly calm. Sipping coffee like the world isn't ending. Like I'm not having a complete meltdown three feet away from him.
His posture is relaxed. His expression is unreadable.
Just watching me lose my mind with the same energy someone might use to watch paint dry.
Something hot and angry flares in my chest.
"Are you serious right now?" I stop pacing and stare at him. "I'm having a crisis and you're just sitting there?"
He raises one eyebrow. Takes another slow sip.
"You done?" he asks.
"Done? I haven't even started. Do you understand what this means? Maxwell sent me here to prove I'm responsible. To show I can handle real work without destroying things. And now I've missed the one meeting that actually mattered."
Grayson sets his mug down on the side table. "The Whitmore meeting."
"Yes! The Whitmore family. Three months waiting for solar panel approval. The meeting Maxwell specifically told me not to mess up." My voice cracks. "And I messed up. Again."
He nods slowly. Considers my words.
Then says absolutely nothing.
Just picks up his coffee and takes another sip.
I want to scream.
Instead, I turn on my heel and head for the stairs. "You know what? Forget it. I don't know why I expected you to care."
I stomp up the stairs, face burning.
How could I have thought last night meant something? Sitting by the fire together. Me falling asleep against his shoulder. Him covering me with his jacket.
He's made it perfectly clear. I'm an inconvenience. A disruption to his peaceful mountain life.
I slam my bedroom door and lean against it, breathing hard.
My heart is racing. My hands are shaking. I'm embarrassed and frustrated and so overstimulated I could cry.
I need to reset.
I walk to the window and look out at the trees. The storm has completely passed. Sunlight filters through the trees. Puddles dot the dirt road. Branches litter the ground from last night.
I take a deep breath. Then another.
Slowly, the panic fades.
I can't change the missed meeting. I can't control whether Maxwell is understanding or furious. All I can control is what I do next.
And what I need to do next is get out of this cabin.
Away from Grayson and his infuriating calm. Away from the bare walls. Away from the memory of last night that clearly meant nothing to him.
I need to go into town. Buy the supplies on my list. Make this place livable.
Because if I'm going to be stuck here for two months, I refuse to spend it in a depressing room with a man who treats me like furniture.
I grab my purse and run through the list in my head. Thick comforter in a cheerful color. Soft sheets. Actual pillows. A warm lamp. Rugs. Curtains. Kitchen tools. Real groceries. Scented candles. Maybe a small plant.
And fairy lights—if the general store carries them.
I grab my jacket and head back downstairs.
Grayson is still in the armchair. Still drinking coffee. Still completely unbothered.
"I'm going into town," I announce, not looking at him.
He glances up. "Power's still out. Roads might be rough after the storm."
"I'll walk."
"It's over a mile."
"Then I'll get some exercise."
I head for the door.
"Kate."
I stop, hand on the doorknob. Don't turn around.
"The meeting is fine," he says quietly.
I spin around. "What?"
"The Whitmore meeting. It's handled."
I stare at him. "What are you talking about? There's no power. No phone signal. How could it possibly be—"
"I took care of it."
My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.
"How?"
He stands, carries his empty mug to the kitchen. "When you were upstairs, I still had battery. Called Maxwell, explained the situation. He rescheduled the Whitmore meeting for tomorrow afternoon."
I blink at him, stunned. "You did that for me?"
He shrugs. "You were panicking. Easier to fix it than listen to you spiral."
And just like that, the gratitude evaporates.
"Wow. Thanks. How incredibly gracious of you."
His jaw tightens. "That's not what I—"
"No, I get it. I'm loud. Annoying. A disruption. Easier to solve my problems than deal with me." I pull the door open. "Don't worry. I'll be out of your hair for a few hours."
I step outside and close the door behind me.
The cool morning air hits my face. I take a shaky breath.
Why does every nice thing he does feel so cold?
I start walking down the dirt road, following the longer route Maxwell mentioned once—a trail that curves through the woods before opening into town. Quieter. More peaceful than the main road.
After about ten minutes, the trees open up.
And I stop walking.
A small lake sits perfectly still, reflecting the sky and the surrounding trees like a mirror. Morning mist hovers over the surface. Birds call from the branches overhead. The air smells like rain and pine.
I walk to the edge and sit on a bench.
My frustration slowly loosens. The tightness in my chest eases. My breathing deepens.
I stay there for a long time. Watching the water. Listening to the birds. Letting the peace of this place settle into me.
Maybe exile isn't the worst thing that could have happened.
Maybe I needed to slow down. Needed to remember there's more to life than iced lattes and Excel spreadsheets and proving myself to people who barely notice.
I stand up, brush off my jeans, and continue toward town.
—
Downtown Maple Glen is exactly what I imagined a small mountain town would be.
One main street lined with brick buildings. A general store. A post office. A diner with a faded awning. And right at the corner, a charming little bakery with a hand-painted sign: Sweet Crumbs.
The smell of fresh bread and cinnamon hits me the moment I open the door. A bell chimes overhead.
"Well, hello there!"
A woman in her seventies appears from the back, wiping flour-dusted hands on her apron. Curly white hair. Bright blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. A smile that could power the whole town.
"You must be new," she says. "I know everyone in Maple Glen, and I definitely don't know you."
I smile despite myself. "Just arrived a couple of days ago. I'm Kate."
"Mrs. Everly. Dorothy Everly," she says warmly, extending her hand. "Retired school teacher, unofficial keeper of local gossip, and baker of cinnamon rolls so good that people forgive me for knowing their secrets."
"Those are some impressive credentials."
"I like to be upfront about my talents." She gestures to the display case. "What can I get you? And please don't say you're just looking. Nobody just looks at my baked goods."
I laugh. "A cinnamon roll. And some of those chocolate chip cookies."
"Excellent choice." She starts packing my order. "So what brings you to Maple Glen? Work? Family? Running from the law?"
"Work," I say quickly. "I'm helping organize files for a solar company. Legal documentation, client contracts, that kind of thing."
Mrs. Everly's eyes light up. "Oh! The Evervolt project. We've had several families sign up. Wonderful initiative."
"Exactly. I'm meeting with clients this week."
"That storm yesterday was something," she says, handing me the bag. "Knocked out power all over town. Took down trees. Old Mr. Henderson's fence is completely gone."
"It was intense," I agree. Remembering the darkness. The panic. Grayson's hand on my back.
"Where are you staying, dear? The inn?"
I hesitate. "A cabin just outside town. Temporary arrangement."
Mrs. Everly's expression sharpens. "A cabin? There aren't many cabins out that way. Most are seasonal rentals or..." Her eyes narrow slightly. "Which cabin, exactly?"
"I'm not sure of the address. It's isolated. Down a dirt road."
"Does it have a lopsided porch and a Go Away doormat?"
I blink. "Yes. Exactly."
Mrs. Everly's entire face transforms. Eyes going wide. Mouth forming a perfect O.
"You're staying at Grayson's cabin?"
My stomach drops. "You know Grayson?"
"Everyone knows Grayson, dear." She leans across the counter, lowering her voice. "You're staying with him? In the cabin? Together?"
"It's not like that," I say quickly. "Maxwell—my boss from Evervolt—arranged it. I didn't know anyone else lived there until I showed up and found him in the bathroom."
Mrs. Everly's eyebrows shoot up. "You found him in the bathroom?"
"It was an accident. I thought the cabin was empty."
"Oh, honey." She clutches her chest. "This is the most exciting thing to happen in Maple Glen since the Johnsons' goat ate half the community garden."
"It's really not exciting. We're strangers sharing a space. Very temporarily."
"Mm-hmm." She's practically vibrating. "And how is Grayson? Still brooding? Still refusing to come into town unless absolutely necessary?"
"Pretty much."
"And you're living with him."
"Staying in the same cabin," I correct. "Not living with him."
Mrs. Everly waves a hand. "Semantics, dear."
I can see the wheels turning behind those bright blue eyes. The gleam of someone who has just received the most exciting news of her week.
This is bad.
"Mrs. Everly, I should really—"
She leans in closer. "You know, Grayson hasn't had anyone stay at that cabin in months. Not since I know of. And certainly not a young, pretty woman like yourself."
My face burns. "It's just work."
"Of course it is." Her tone says she doesn't believe me for a second. "Well, Kate, it was lovely meeting you. I'm sure I'll be seeing much more of you."
She practically glows as she watches me gather my bag.
And I realize, with sinking certainty, that by this afternoon the whole town of Maple Glen is going to know I'm living with the mysterious mountain hermit in the isolated cabin on the hill.
There is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.