Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
JOE
Friday, Day One of the Summer Swap
“Welcome, roomie!”
Joe had barely stepped over the threshold before Kit called out from the kitchen.
The condo smelled like caramelizing peaches, espresso, and something buttery enough to make his stomach growl.
He had about half a second to take in the space before something long, loud, and low came barreling toward him.
Frankie skidded across the hardwood, barking like Joe was an armed intruder.
“Frankie!” Kit called over to the pup. “You know Joe. You don’t need to announce him to the building.”
The moment Frankie sniffed Joe’s shoes, he immediately switched to frantic tail wagging and joyful whining.
“Hey, buddy.” Joe laughed, bending to scratch behind the dog’s ears. Frankie melted into him like they were reunited war heroes. With the dog happily leaning into his hands, Joe finally had a second to take in the apartment.
The sunlight from the huge second-story window spilled across the exposed brick, catching on bright splashes of red, blue, and yellow artwork that lined the walls.
The living room looked lived-in and loved with mismatched throw blankets draped over a sofa full of texture, a plant in the corner thriving despite its dramatic lean toward the sun.
The kitchen gleamed with state-of-the-art appliances and sharp knives that suggested Kit took cooking Very Seriously .
The whole place felt like Krista’s order and Kit’s chaos had collided…
and decided to live together in harmony.
Kit looked up from the stove, waving a wooden spoon.
Her dark hair was pulled back, covered with a blue bandana, and she wore a chef’s coat, even though she was in her own house.
“You’re just in time. Taste tester number one, reporting for duty. ”
“I didn’t know I signed up for that,” Joe said.
“You didn’t.” She plopped a tart onto a plate and thrust it into his hands. “But here we are. Breakfast.”
He took a bite. Then another.
Kit’s smirk bloomed. “That’s right, reporter boy. You’ve been spiritually bested by a tart.”
“It’s really good,” he said, still chewing.
“I know.” She leaned a hip against the counter. “Krista and I are working on a summer collab at the Hideaway. I supply the dessert, she supplies the cocktail. And you’re perfect for testing it—because I know you won’t lie.”
“You got me there,” Joe agreed.
“So…” Kit wasted no time changing the subject. “Whatcha think about Krista? She’s pretty amazing, isn’t she?”
He almost inhaled the tart. “Geez.” He coughed. “You don’t mind putting a man on the spot, do you?”
“Not even a little.” She crossed her arms. “Now spill. You two finish hooking up last night? Because that girl works herself into the ground. If she’s not at the Hideaway, she’s at her grandparents’. The woman hasn’t had proper fun since—actually, never. She could really do with a good time. ”
Joe lifted a brow. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
“You do that.” She slid another tart in front of him like she was dealing poker. “Eat. I need honest feedback.”
Frankie barked once in agreement. Joe didn’t argue, and continued his tart while Kit topped off his coffee.
“Thank you,” he said between bites. Joe had to admit this was nice, and different from what he was used to.
Being on the road meant he often cooked meals on his own in various Airbnbs or youth hostels, or dining alone in little places.
He enjoyed his own company, but there was something comforting about eating with a friend in their home.
After they finished eating, Kit started bustling around the kitchen, loading the dishwasher. “Why don’t you toss your stuff in Krista’s room?” she said over her shoulder. “Third door on the left.”
Joe grabbed his backpack and camera bag and headed down the hall. Frankie trotted behind him, his little nails clicking on the hardwood. He stepped into her room and froze.
Krista’s bedroom looked like a boutique hotel suite designed by someone who not only cared about comfort…but worshipped it. How in the world would she cope in his tent?
His eyes were drawn to the thick, cloudlike white comforter spilling over the bed.
Pillows—dozens of them—layered in whites, golds, and soft pinks accented it.
Smooth, expensive-looking sheets peeked from beneath the comforter.
And her scent—warm vanilla. A hint of citrus.
Something soft and feminine that wrapped around him like a memory.
Joe swallowed hard. This was where she slept. Where she dreamed. Where she woke this morning before heading out to meet him in the woods. And tonight she would basically be sleeping on the ground. If he was honest, he felt a bit guilty.
He set his backpack on the small bench at the foot of the bed, then placed his camera gear carefully on the dresser.
But his gaze kept drifting back to the bed—the pillows, the softness, the whole intimate world that was hers.
His pulse thudded in his throat. How was he supposed to stay here for a week without losing his mind?
Letting out a slow breath, he forced himself to step back. Work. Focus. Mystery. Diary. Anything but imagining Krista tangled in these sheets. He left the room before his imagination got him into real trouble. Frankie followed, prancing down the hallway as if he were a king.
When Joe returned to the kitchen, Kit tossed him a dish towel. “Good. You’re back. And you brought your shadow.”
They were halfway through cleaning when the front door opened.
“Oh, Kit, what have you been up to?” Krista asked, stepping inside, cheeks pink from the morning chill. “It smells incredible in here.”
Frankie immediately abandoned Joe to launch himself at Krista, barking like he was announcing royalty. Once his greeting duties were complete, he ditched her without hesitation…and trotted right back to Joe.
Krista stared at the dog, then at Joe. “Okay, seriously. What did you do to my dog? He never chooses people this fast.”
Joe shrugged, dish cloth in hand. “What can I say? I’m magnetic.”
Krista rolled her eyes but smiled, and it landed somewhere warm in Joe’s chest.
“I see Kit’s already put you to work, too,” she said, pointing at the cloth.
Before he could speak, Kit piped in, “See? He’s domesticated. I told you he’d make a good roommate.”
Joe shook his head, though a smile tugged at his mouth. Ridiculously happy to see Krista again, even if they’d been together barely an hour ago.
“The campsite up to your expectations?” he asked.
“I already miss my bed,” Krista said with a groan .
“I’d say you could join me…” Joe let the words trail off.
“Not sure if that would be against the rules,” Krista replied.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Joe countered.
“And that’s my cue,” Kit said, interrupting the conversation. “I’d love to hear more about this whole bed situation, but unfortunately, I have work to do. If you two don’t mind, I have a new soup recipe that needs my devoted attention.” She waved them out of the kitchen.
Krista shot Joe a bold little wink. “What she’s saying is we need to be quiet. I’m up for the challenge if you are.”
Joe swallowed. She spoke her mind—a lot. And God, he found it unfairly attractive.
“But, be that as it may,” Krista added, pulling Isabel’s diary from her bag, “we have a bit of work to do before taking over each other’s jobs today.”
She motioned for Joe to follow her into the living room. Frankie trotted ahead like he was escorting them, then jumped onto the couch, claiming Joe’s lap with zero hesitation.
“I’m going to pretend not to be offended,” Krista said, side-eying Frankie.
“Don’t worry, he knows you’re still his queen,” Joe replied.
“Sure he does…anyway.” Krista turned her attention back to the diary.
“Have you discovered anything new?” Joe asked, adjusting around the small but determined dog now curled on his thigh.
Krista sat beside him, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her leg. “A little,” she said, flipping through the journal. “There’s this section I wanted to look at with you.”
She paused at a page filled with looping, hurried handwriting. Joe leaned forward, squinting at the Spanish text. “I have no idea what that says.”
Krista smiled softly. “I know.” She traced a line with her finger. “The more I read, the more the language comes back to me. And this part is different.”
She read it aloud first in Spanish. A small shiver slid down Joe’s spine at the sound of her voice. Not from the words, but from the way she read them. She sounded reverent almost.
“What’s it say?” he asked, voice lower than before.
Krista exhaled slowly and translated: “ Today we found a magical place. Where I can truly be myself. Sometimes I don’t want to leave. Sometimes I want to stay there forever .”
Joe leaned back, eyebrows lifting. “Sounds romantic.”
Krista nodded, her eyes lingering on the page. “Yeah. It does.”
They continued reading together, Frankie snoring lightly on Joe’s lap, blissfully unaware that the humans above him were untangling a decades-old secret.
“Any idea where this ‘place’ is?” he asked.
“Not really,” she admitted. “It’s vague. Could be anywhere. A grove, maybe. A clearing. Somewhere private. Whatever it was…it meant everything to her.”
Joe watched the concentration in her eyes, the sunlight catching in her hair and turning the loose strands to gold. Her lips moved faintly as she translated, and he had the inconvenient thought of what those lips had felt like last night.
Krista flipped ahead a few pages, her brows pulling together as she studied the looping script. “She talks about their special place again, in this next entry…”
Joe shifted closer as she read the new passage aloud in Spanish. Her voice was soft, steady, and almost melodic.
He didn’t understand a word of it, but hearing her read it gave him a strange, unexpected pull in his chest. “Okay,” he said, squinting at the page, “I caught maybe one thing in there. Water?”
Krista nodded, still studying the text. “She says, ‘ The water there always sings. Jonah says the sound guides us—if we follow the echo, we’ll reach our refuge .’ ”
Joe sat back slowly. “Water that sings? So…what, a lake? A river?”
“Could be either,” she murmured, tapping the margin. “We have dozens of lakes and rivers around here.”
Joe followed her gaze over the page. Her thumb brushed lightly over the ink, the way she seemed to do when she was deep in thought. He liked that about her. Her focus. Her intensity. How she didn’t shy away from anything.
“You have any ideas where to start?” he asked.
She let out a thoughtful breath. “I’m thinking about asking Zoe. She and Jackson explored so much of the surrounding area this spring, looking for the Moonlight Kiss flowers. They were all over the woods, rivers, ridges—pretty much everywhere. Maybe something in here will sound familiar to her.”
“That’s a good idea,” Joe said. “I actually have a draft of the article I wrote about their Local Blooms garden project that I want to run by them anyway.” He hesitated for a heartbeat, then added, “We’ve got a bit of time before I have to get to the Hideaway. Want to head over there together?”
Krista smiled. “Sure. Let me just text her and see if she’s at the flower shop or at Jackson’s farm.”
She grabbed her phone, tapping out a message.
Frankie stayed snoring on his lap, and the journal lay open between them, its pages filled with secrets neither of them understood yet.
He reached a hand onto her leg, and a tiny spark of electricity ran between them. And in that quiet, sunlit room, with this beautiful woman and a mystery breathing between them, he suddenly thought, he could get used to this. Being domesticated, as Kit had put it.
But it was more than that. He’d never wanted a story—or a life—as much as this.