Chapter Eleven – Tessa
“Bye!” Tessa waved as Rachel shepherded the girls out the door.
“Bye,” the girls chorused and then erupted into fits of giggles as they left the house.
“Did I miss something?” Tessa asked Rachel.
“No, you didn’t miss anything at all,” Rachel said, a mischievous expression on her face. “He’s waiting in the kitchen.”
Tessa furrowed her brows, certain more than ever that she had missed something. Whether she wanted to know what, she wasn’t sure. “I’ll see you later.”
“Don’t hurry home on my account,” Rachel said as she pulled the door closed, but then she opened it again. “You look beautiful. Blue always did suit you.”
Tessa opened her mouth to speak, but Rachel closed the door with a click before she got the chance.
“Ready to go?” Matt stood framed in the doorway, looking incredibly handsome and relaxed. And uncannily like the image of him she’d sketched last night.
“I am.” Tessa ran a hand over her pale blue sundress, suddenly self-conscious. She hadn’t packed many nice clothes for this trip, but this morning she’d found herself pulling out the sundress she’d tucked away “just in case.” Now, under Matt’s appreciative gaze, she was glad she had.
“You look beautiful,” he said simply, the words straightforward, but his eyes saying so much more.
“Thank you.” Heat crept up her neck as she grabbed her purse. “I wasn’t sure what to wear to a farmers’ market.”
“You got it exactly right.” Matt held the door for her, and as she passed, she caught the subtle scent of his cologne—something woodsy and clean that made her want to lean closer.
“It’s not far,” Matt said as they reached the truck, and he opened the passenger door for her. “The market sets up right in the town square. I’d suggest we walk, but I’m notorious for buying far too much to carry in my arms.”
Tessa chuckled. “A man after my own heart.”
Or one who owned her heart.
She ducked her head to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks as he reached around her and opened the truck door.
The short drive into town was filled with light conversation about nothing particularly important—the perfect weather, a funny story about one of the restaurant’s regular customers, Tessa’s progress on her sketches.
By the time Matt parked near the town square, Tessa felt relaxed in a way she hadn’t in months.
Until she stepped out of the truck and saw the market.
The town square had transformed overnight into a bustling hub of activity.
Colorful canopies dotted the grassy area, with tables laden with fresh produce, handcrafted goods, and local food.
People moved between the booths, shopping bags in hand, stopping to chat with vendors and each other.
The scene was almost painfully picturesque—exactly the kind of small-town charm Tessa had only ever seen in movies.
“It’s bigger than I expected,” she said, taking it all in.
Matt smiled. “Bear Creek might be small, but we know how to put on a market. Ready?”
Tessa nodded, suddenly nervous again. This wasn’t just about spending time with Matt anymore. This was about stepping into his world—a world where everyone seemed to know everyone else, where she was clearly the outsider.
But as they approached the first row of stalls, something unexpected happened. A woman selling handmade soaps looked up, her face lighting up with recognition.
“Tessa!” she called out.
Tessa blinked in surprise. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Linda. You waited on us on Saturday—the table by the window? You recommended that fantastic risotto special.”
“Of course,” Tessa said, memory clicking into place. “You were celebrating your anniversary.”
Linda beamed. “That’s right! Twenty-six years.” She turned to include Matt in the conversation. “This one here makes a mean risotto. You can’t go wrong with a man who knows how to cook.”
“No… I… Well, we’re not…” Tessa stuttered.
Matt ducked his head slightly, his shoulders shaking. At least one of them found it amusing.
But then Tessa shook off her embarrassment and smiled.
“Here,” Linda said, pressing a small package into Tessa’s hands. “Lavender soap. On the house. It’s my thank you for making our anniversary dinner special.”
“Oh, I couldn’t…” Tessa started, but Linda waved away her protest.
“Please. I insist.”
Tessa accepted the gift because it obviously meant a lot to Linda. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
As they moved on to the next booth, Tessa unwrapped the end of the small paper package and inhaled the calming scent of lavender. “That was unexpected,” she murmured.
“You obviously made an impression on her,” Matt said. “As you have on lots of people at the restaurant.”
Did he mean she’d made an impression on him? She didn’t pursue that comment any further, even though she wanted to.
At the honey stand, the beekeeper greeted Matt by name, then turned to Tessa with a warm smile.
“You’re staying with Rachel, aren’t you? My sister’s kids go to the same school as Aria and Lucy. Rumor has it you’ve been a godsend with her ankle and the girls.”
Before Tessa could formulate a response, she found herself being handed a small jar of wildflower honey.
“Put it in Rachel’s tea,” the woman said. “Very soothing.”
“I will,” Tessa assured her.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked.
“Yes, I’m just surprised at people’s generosity.” She glanced down at the honey.
“Too much?” he asked.
“No, it’s just...” Tessa struggled to find the words. “Different. I’m used to being the one who gives, not receives.”
“Not today.” He held out his hand. “Come on, I smell chilies.”
Tessa slipped her hand into Matt’s, and the moment their palms connected, a current of warmth traveled up her arm. It wasn’t just the physical touch—though that alone sent her pulse racing—but something deeper, as if some invisible thread between them had suddenly pulled taut.
“This way,” Matt said, his voice lower than before as he guided her through the crowd toward a booth with vibrant red and green peppers arranged in woven baskets.
The vendor, a man who looked uncannily like Matt, waved as they approached. “Matt! I wondered where you’d got to. It’s a good job I saved the best ones for you.”
“Kirk, this is Tessa,” Matt said, still holding her hand as he made the introduction. “Tessa, this is Kirk, my brother.”
“I thought there was a family resemblance,” Tessa said, feeling a little self-conscious. She hadn’t expected to meet a member of Matt’s family at the market. “It’s good to meet you. And your chilies look incredible.”
“Good to meet you, too, Tessa.” Kirk raised his eyebrows at Matt.
“Kirk grows the best chilies I’ve ever tasted.” Matt fixed Kirk with a look that said, behave. It was a look she’d seen on Rachel’s face enough times to recognize instantly. Although what exactly Matt was worried Kirk might say or do, Tessa had no clue.
“You’re too kind, Matt,” Kirk said with a wink, though his chest puffed slightly with pride. “Though these habaneros did win at the county fair last year.”
“So what have you got for me? I’ve been working on a new sauce for the restaurant,” Matt explained, his thumb absently tracing small circles on the back of Tessa’s hand. “Something with layers—heat that builds rather than hits you all at once.”
Kirk’s gaze flicked from their joined hands to Tessa’s face. “These aren’t just any chilies,” he said, lifting a particularly vibrant red habanero. “These beauties have personality. Heat with character.” He turned the pepper in his weathered fingers, examining it with the reverence of an artist.
“Kirk’s been growing chilies for thirty years,” Matt explained, squeezing her hand gently. “He knows things about peppers that most people don’t even think to ask.”
Kirk beamed, clearly pleased by Matt’s praise. “I started young,” he told Tessa. “Mom encouraged me to follow my passion. And I did. Life is nothing without passion, is it, Matt?”
Matt shook his head at his brother before he released Tessa’s hand to examine a basket of smaller, wrinkled peppers. “Are these the Scotch bonnets you were telling me about?”
“The very same,” Kirk nodded, seemingly content to shift back to business. “Perfect for that layered heat you’re looking for. They start sweet, then build to something magnificent.”
“I’ll take two pounds,” Matt decided, reaching for his wallet. “Do I get a family discount?”
Kirk chuckled. “A man has to make a living!”
“He never gives me a discount,” Matt complained, but there was nothing but humor in his expression.
“But Matt still asks every time,” Kirk said. “He is nothing if not persistent.” The word sounded loaded with double meaning.
“It was good to meet you, Kirk,” Tessa said after Matt made his purchases.
“You too, Tessa. Maybe you could come and see where the magic happens sometime soon,” Kirk said.
“I’d love that,” Tessa replied as they turned and walked away.
Matt reached for her hand, and there was something possessive in the way his hand held hers. It sent a thrill through her veins. Even though the last thing she wanted was to be anyone’s possession.
They continued through the market, and Matt soon relaxed as they stopped to examine produce for the restaurant—heirloom tomatoes, fresh herbs, specialty mushrooms that he discussed at length with a weathered man in overalls.
Tessa watched him in his element, noting how he treated each vendor with respect, how he asked questions about growing conditions and harvest times, how he seemed genuinely interested in their answers.
“Matt Thornberg!” A booming voice cut through the crowd. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair waved from a cheese stand. “Get over here and try my new chèvre!”
Matt grinned, placing his hand lightly on the small of Tessa’s back to guide her through the crowd.
The touch was gentle, barely there—yet Tessa felt it like a brand, warm and steadying.
He didn’t crowd her or push. His hand simply rested there, a quiet claim that said I’m with her without a single word spoken.
“Earl makes the best goat cheese,” Matt murmured close to her ear as they approached the stand. The warmth of his breath sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
“You’re too kind.” Earl laughed, overhearing. “Now I’m going to have to give you free samples.” His keen eyes shifted to Tessa. “And who’s this lovely lady?”
“Tessa Johnson,” Matt said, and something in his tone—a hint of pride, maybe—made Tessa’s heart beat faster. “She’s helping out at the restaurant while Rachel’s ankle heals.”
“Well, Tessa Johnson,” Earl said, cutting a small piece of cheese and offering it to her, “welcome to Bear Creek. Any friend of the Thornbergs is a friend of mine.”
The cheese was creamy and tangy, melting on her tongue. “This is incredible,” she said honestly.
Earl beamed. “A woman of taste! Matt, you’d better bring her back next month to try the herb-crusted version I’m working on.”
Next month. As if her being there then was a given. As if she belonged not just in this moment, but in the future of this place.
The rest of the morning passed in a similar fashion, Matt introducing her to what felt like half the town, people greeting her not as a stranger but as someone they’d been expecting.
By the time they stopped for coffee at a small stand near the edge of the market, Tessa felt simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked, handing her a steaming cup. “It’s been a long morning.”
Tessa looked out over the market, taking in the scene.
“It’s not just the market,” she admitted quietly.
“It’s... everything. The way people talk to me like they already know me.
The way they expect me to still be here next week, next month.
” She swallowed hard. “The way it feels as though I could belong here.”
Matt was silent for a moment, his dark eyes studying her face. “Would that be so bad?” he finally asked, his voice low. “Belonging here?”
The question hung between them, weighted with meaning beyond the simple words. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’m not sure I know how to put down roots.”
“It’s never too late to learn,” he said.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Come on,” Matt said, seeming to sense her need to lighten the mood. “There’s an artist’s booth I want to show you. I think it might be exactly what we need to keep the fairies happy.”
“Lead the way,” Tessa said.