Chapter 10
DEX
Ipulled up to Jasper’s house at exactly nine a.m., which gave me no time to sit in the driveway and question all my life choices.
I’d barely slept. Kept replaying the meeting yesterday, the way Leigh had looked sitting beside me, the smell of her perfume, the careful distance she’d maintained between us.
The way that distance had felt like torture. But not as much as those accidental grazes of her arm against mine. I’d found myself looking for any reason to move, any reason to feel that briefest of touches. I was like an addict searching for any reason to binge on my favourite drug.
This was a terrible idea.
But I couldn’t back out. Couldn’t disappoint Trace and Delaney, couldn’t make this weird by refusing. Couldn’t…
The front door opened.
Leigh stepped out, and my brain short-circuited.
She was dressed casually in jeans that fit her perfectly, a simple tank top, sturdy boots for hiking. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her camera bag was slung over one shoulder. She looked beautiful and practical and completely unaware of what she did to me.
Or maybe she was aware. Maybe that was worse.
Jasper appeared in the doorway behind her. “Dex! Good to see you.”
“Good to see you too, Mr. Farrington.” I got out of the truck, suddenly grateful for the buffer of her father’s presence.
“Call me Jasper, please.” He smiled warmly. “Thanks for showing Leigh around. She’s been photographing the town, but I know you know all the hidden spots.”
“Happy to help.”
Leigh was walking toward the truck, and I moved to open the passenger door for her. Our hands brushed as I took her camera bag to store it safely behind the seat.
That same electric shock. That same impossible awareness. Just one more thing to crave.
She pulled her hand back. “Thanks.”
“Ready?” I managed.
“Ready.”
I closed her door, said goodbye to Jasper, and walked around to the driver’s side, my heart pounding harder than the situation warranted.
It’s just location scouting. It’s just work. It’s just… And then I opened the truck door and the soft scent of her perfume flooded my senses.
Shit. She was in my truck.
In my passenger seat.
Where I’d imagined her a hundred times since that first night. Except rather than a drive around Willowbrook the fantasy always took us straight to my house, straight to my bed, straight to…
I gritted my teeth, and climbed into the truck hoping I didn’t look like either the creep I was or the caveman I seemed to be starting to default to whenever I was in her presence.
This was good. Today might actually be a good idea. I just needed to figure out how to ignore every thought of how good her body felt pressed up against mine. Figure out how to be an actual person around her.
I started the engine, pulled out of the driveway, and tried to focus on driving instead of the way the morning sunlight caught in her hair.
The first few minutes were silent. The radio played softly with some country station I never bothered changing, and I kept my eyes on the road. Tried not to notice how right it felt, having her here beside me.
Finally, she spoke. “Where are we going first?”
“Old mill by the river. Good natural light, rustic backdrop. Should work well for engagement photos.”
“Sounds perfect.”
More silence. But it felt less awkward now. More... anticipatory.
“How long have you lived in Willowbrook?” she asked.
“Since fifth grade. Moved here to live with my grandparents after my dad died.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
“It was.” I kept my eyes on the road. “New town, new school, everything different. But the Farrington brothers... they made it easier. Adopted me into their group before I even knew I needed it.”
“Where were you before?”
“Queens. My dad and I had an apartment there.” The words felt rusty. I didn’t talk about this much. “My mom left when I was little. Dad did his best, but when he died...” I shrugged. “My grandparents were all I had left.”
“And they brought you here.”
“Yeah. Gave me a home. The brothers gave me a family.” I glanced at her briefly. “Willowbrook saved me, in a way.”
“Have you ever thought about leaving?”
“No. After they passed, the garage and everything was left to me and I just kind of carried on with everything. I never really knew what else I wanted, or I guess I never really thought about it.”
“Or maybe you feel like you have to stay here because you owe them for taking you in.”
I looked at her then, really looked at her. She was watching me with those perceptive eyes that seemed to see straight through every defense I’d built.
“Maybe,” I said quietly.
“You don’t, you know? And I’m sure they never thought that either,” she added quietly, turning to look out the window like she knew it would be too hard for me to hear otherwise.
We drove through town, past the familiar streets and buildings I’d known my entire life. I pointed out landmarks, told her stories I’d told a hundred times before, but somehow they felt different with her listening.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled off onto a dirt road that led down to the river.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed as the old mill came into view.
It really was. Weathered wood, the river flowing behind it, trees overhead creating natural archways of light. The morning sun filtered through the leaves in a way that made everything look touched by gold.
Leigh was out of the truck before I’d fully parked, camera already in hand.
I followed more slowly, watching as she immediately shifted into photographer mode. She moved around the space with purpose, checking angles, testing light, occasionally raising her camera to capture a shot.
She was completely focused. Professional. In her element.
And I couldn’t look away.
“This is gorgeous,” she said, turning to show me the camera display. “The light through the trees here…”
She stepped closer so I could see the screen, and suddenly we were standing close enough that I could count her freckles. Could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. Could smell that perfume that had been driving me crazy.
We both froze.
Her breath caught. Mine did too.
For a moment, the whole world narrowed to just this. Her, me, the space between us that was both too much and not enough.
Then she stepped back quickly, clearing her throat. “I think this location will work really well.”
“Yeah.” My voice came out rough. “Good.”
She spent about another half an hour taking test shots and I watched in fascination realizing how she saw the world so differently to everyone else. How she somehow had the ability to see the beauty in things that most people would dismiss.
I found myself excited to show her the next location.
It was a meadow I’d found years ago, wildflowers in bloom, the kind of place that looked like something from a painting.
Then an overlook that gave a sweeping view of the valley.
As soon as we pulled in Leigh gasped at the sight and immediately started shooting.
I leaned against the truck tailgate, watching her work. The wind caught her hair, pulling strands loose from her ponytail. She was smiling, that genuine smile that transformed her whole face.
Something in my chest tightened.
She turned, caught me watching. “What?”
“Nothing. Just... you really love this.”
Her smile softened. “I do. Photography is the one thing that’s always made sense to me.”
“I get that.” I pushed off the tailgate. “That’s how I feel about engines.”
“Yeah?” She lowered her camera, giving me her full attention.
“Something broken comes in, I can fix it. There’s a logic to it. A solution.”
“Not everything can be fixed.”
“No.” I held her gaze. “But engines can.”
The subtext hung between us, heavy and unspoken. Not everything can be fixed. Not this situation. Not whatever was building between us despite our best efforts.
“It’s past noon,” I said finally, breaking the moment. “You hungry?”
She checked her phone, surprised. “I didn’t realize it had been that long.”
“There’s a deli in town. We could grab something.”
She looked around at the overlook, the perfect light, the view spread out before us. “Or... we could pick something up and come back here? The light’s perfect right now.”
I should say no. Should suggest we eat in town, surrounded by people and witnesses and things that would keep this professional. If that’s even what this was.
“Sure,” I said instead.
Twenty minutes later, we were back at the overlook with sandwiches and sodas from the deli. I dropped the tailgate and we sat on it, feet dangling, the valley spread out before us like something from a postcard.
“This is nice,” she said quietly, unwrapping her sandwich. “Peaceful.”
“It’s my favorite spot in Willowbrook. Don’t tell anyone. I like having it to myself.”
She smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Then she asked, “Do you ever think about leaving?”
“Sometimes.” I took a drink of soda, considering. “But this is home. My brothers are here. The business is here. Everything I know is here.”
“But?”
“But sometimes I wonder what else is out there. What I’m missing by staying.”
“I understand that. I’ve lived in Blue Point Bay my whole life. Same town, same streets, same everything. Sometimes it feels like the world is bigger than I’ve let myself see.”
“Is that why you came here? To see something different?”
“Partly.” She paused. “Mostly to meet them. My brothers. To figure out if there was a part of me I’d never gotten to know because it was the part that was supposed to be here, with them.
If this was a place I could belong without having to be someone else, or at least some version of me that didn’t quite feel right. ”
“And can you?”
She looked at me, something vulnerable in her expression. “I don’t know yet. Everyone’s been so welcoming, but there’s this voice in my head that says I’m still the outsider. The secret. The complication.”
“You’re not a complication.”