Chapter 3
ROWAN
Istared at the plate in front of me, but the food wasn’t what held my attention. It stayed on the man who’d walked away after setting my meal down.
My fingertips still tingled from where they’d brushed his. A tiny, accidental touch that shouldn’t have meant anything. Except warmth had shot up my arm and bloomed across my chest, unlike anything I’d experienced before.
I shook out my hands, trying to dispel the sensation, but it didn’t fade.
Attraction was something I understood in theory, the same way I only ever vaguely made sense of abstract art. I’d always assumed I was someone whose body didn’t get the memo. That my childhood had damaged me too much. Until now.
I lifted my gaze to the kitchen door just in time to see him slip back through it.
He was huge, easily six and a half feet, with broad shoulders stretching his black T-shirt across a muscular chest. His biceps bulged when he set down the plate.
He had light blond hair that flopped against his forehead in a sexy way, and dark brown eyes that were intense enough to pin me in place even though they’d barely met mine.
All that combined to make him the hottest man I’d ever met.
As I dragged my gaze down to my plate again, my cheeks filled with heat. I was tired and overwhelmed. People did weird things under stress. Maybe that included wanting to climb a sexy stranger like he was a tree.
I tried to focus on my meal, but my fork kept pausing halfway to my mouth as my eyes drifted toward the kitchen again, waiting for him to reappear. I barely tasted the food even though it was delicious.
I didn’t know what to do with this feeling or even how to label it. My pulse was still racing, and no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, something inside me had woken up the moment our fingers touched.
By the time I finished the last bite of my dinner, I’d almost convinced myself I imagined the jolt from earlier.
I lifted a hand to get the server’s attention. “Could I have the check, please?”
She flashed me a bright smile. “Oh, your meal’s taken care of.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The grill chef covered it,” she explained in a low tone.
“Who?” I asked even though it wasn’t hard to guess her answer.
“Bexley North.” Her grin widened. “And I’m pretty sure you know exactly who I mean since he came out here to drop off your plate when he never does that.”
Heat flared in my cheeks so quickly that I almost pressed my palms to them as I mumbled, “I didn’t know his name.”
“Well, you must’ve made quite the impression on the big guy because your meal is on him.”
I shook my head. “That’s really not necessary.”
“Sorry, but it’s already done.” She shrugged, not seeming apologetic at all.
It felt like the universe kept tossing unexpected gifts into my lap. First the cottage, then the money, and now a free meal from the gorgeous chef who made my body spark to life for the first time ever.
“I’m leaving a tip,” I insisted.
“Go for it.”
I left an embarrassingly large one and slid out of the booth before I could overthink any of it. If I stayed another minute, I wasn’t entirely convinced I wouldn’t try to go peek into the kitchen just to get one more look at Bexley.
The moment I stepped outside, the wind slapped a strand of hair straight across my mouth. I sputtered, shoving it aside as another gust whipped the ends behind me. Thunder grumbled somewhere deep in the mountains, rolling closer by the second.
A couple passing by tugged their jackets tighter as one muttered, “Storm’s rolling in fast tonight.”
“Too fast,” the other agreed. “Hope folks are home before it hits.”
What a way to end a life-altering day. And the perfect excuse not to circle back to Timber’s Treasures under the guise of forgetting something just to see if I could accidentally-on-purpose catch another glimpse of Bexley.
I hurried to my rental car, my tote bag clutched against my chest as the air turned colder by the second. The drive out of town didn’t take long, but the sky got darker the farther I went. Clouds thickened overhead just as my GPS chirped that I’d arrived.
I didn’t see anything at first, just a narrow gravel turnoff lined by trees. Then my headlights swept over the cottage. It was small and weathered but also charming.
I pulled into the short drive and cut the engine.
The wind rattled through the branches overhead, and I just sat there, gripping the steering wheel for a moment.
So much had already happened today, and I didn’t yet know how to mentally unpack it all.
And now I had to walk into the place my grandmother called home, with an urn full of her ashes on the mantel.
The wind picked up even more, and I finally forced myself to open the car door. Gravel crunched under my feet, and the porch light flickered as another low growl of thunder rolled across the valley.
Pulling the keys from my tote and grabbing my suitcase from the back seat, I hurried up the steps and unlocked the door. It creaked when I pushed it open, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the storm outside as rain started to fall behind me.
Once inside, my gaze landed on the fireplace first. More specifically, on the urn sitting on the mantel.
I’d braced myself for it, but the sight still made my breath catch in my lungs. It was a simple brass vessel, nothing ornate. But knowing what it held made my chest tighten uncomfortably.
The lights flickered when I flipped the switch, blinking once before filling the room in soft gold. Thunder boomed outside again, but it was closer now.
I forced myself to explore the living room.
The place was small but cozy. Two armchairs were angled toward the fireplace, a bookshelf overflowing with paperbacks lined a wall, and a knitted throw was folded neatly over the sofa.
Everything was tidy and cared for, which made me wonder if someone had been looking after the place in the months since my grandmother passed away.
I felt a pang of loss, wishing I’d known her. I wondered if she’d tried to get my parents to let me spend time with her growing up, but they’d refused.
As I was straightening a few toppled books on the shelves, I noticed a slim wooden box tucked toward the back. It looked hand-carved, and the latch was tipped up. I hesitated, then pulled it free and walked over to the small dining table in the eat-in kitchen.
Flipping open the lid, I found a watch and a couple of pairs of earrings on top. They looked old and expensive, but it was what I discovered beneath them that was the real treasure. Letters.
Some were loose, others were in envelopes labeled with years in descending chronological order. Toward the bottom, they were addressed to my parents and marked with Return to Sender.
Picking up the first envelope that hadn’t been mailed, I tugged the letter from it and started to cry when I saw it was addressed to me.
My dearest Rowan,
I’m sorry to say I’ve given up hope of your parents letting me see you again.
I love my son, but I don’t like the person he grew into. One who values money over family and the city life over simple things. I’ll never understand how he could grow up in Timber Ridge without learning how important love is.
Unfortunately, he didn’t like some home truths I shared with him during your visit ten years ago, and he refused to speak with me ever again. A threat he’s followed through on, much to my despair.
Please know you have all my love, and I will always be thinking about you.
Love,
Grandma
I was bawling by the time I read the last line. She’d given me the answers I never thought I’d have, but it hurt so much to think of her being all on her own without me knowing.
The lights flickered again, and the room plunged into momentary darkness before they buzzed back on. I jolted and mumbled, “Okay. Enough of this for tonight.”
I slid the letters back into the box and gently closed the lid. I’d read the rest later, when my brain wasn’t fried, and I wasn’t a sobbing mess. Right now, I needed a hot shower, a soft bed, and a good night’s sleep.