Chapter 7
Kiera Emmerson
I unlock my car with a beep that echoes in River’s quiet driveway, and he slides into the passenger seat while I circle around to the driver’s side. The late afternoon sun is warm on my shoulders, and there’s this flutter of nervous excitement in my chest that I can’t quite suppress.
This is it. I’m actually going to look at an apartment. My own space. The first real step toward not being a burden on anyone.
I drop into the driver’s seat and reach for my keys, but before I can start the ignition, movement catches my eye. A blonde woman in tight athletic wear is jogging down the sidewalk toward us, and she slows to a stop right beside River’s window.
River glances over and his expression shifts into something polite but guarded. He rolls down the window.
“River!” The woman’s voice is bright and breathless, though I have a feeling it has less to do with the jogging and more to do with who she’s talking to. “I didn’t know you were home. I haven’t seen you around in a few days.”
“Hey, Shelly.” River’s smile is friendly but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty buried in work.”
“Oh, that’s such a shame.” Shelly leans against the car door, bending slightly so her tank top dips lower.
She’s completely ignoring my existence in the driver’s seat, acting like River is alone in the car.
“You know, I was thinking we should grab dinner sometime. There’s this new seafood place on the mainland I’ve been dying to try. ”
I grip the steering wheel tighter than necessary. Why does this woman assume River has nothing better to do than take her to dinner? And why is she pressed up against my car like she owns it?
River shifts in his seat. “That’s nice of you to think of me, but I’m pretty swamped with editing deadlines right now.”
“Oh, come on.” Shelly laughs, and it’s this high, tinkling sound that grates on my nerves. “Everyone has to eat, right? You can’t just work all the time. You need to have some fun.” She reaches through the window and touches his arm, her fingers lingering on his bicep. “I could help you relax.”
My jaw clenches. The audacity of this woman. She’s practically throwing herself at him, and she still hasn’t even glanced in my direction.
“I appreciate the offer,” River says, gently pulling his arm back, “but I really do have a lot going on.”
Shelly pouts and her eyes flick toward me. She looks me up and down with a dismissive once-over that makes my skin prickle with irritation.
“Oh.” Her tone suggests she’s just noticed something unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe. “You have company.”
“Yeah.” River glances at me, and there’s something apologetic in his expression. “We’re actually on our way out.”
“Where are you headed?” Shelly straightens up but doesn’t move away from the car. “Anywhere fun?”
The nosiness is astounding. Does this woman not understand social cues?
“Just running some errands,” River says vaguely. “We really need to get going, though. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Shelly’s pout deepens, but she finally steps back from the car. “All right, fine. But you owe me that dinner, River Stone. Don’t think I’m going to forget.”
She gives him what I’m sure she thinks is a seductive wink, then starts jogging away down the street, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her.
I wait until she’s a reasonable distance away before I start the car and back out of the driveway. “Who was that?”
“My neighbor.” River runs a hand through his hair, and I catch a hint of embarrassment in the gesture. “She lives in the house next door.”
Of course she does. Because having a gorgeous neighbor who jogs by in strategically tight athletic wear and flirts shamelessly isn’t convenient enough—she has to live right next door.
“How nice for you,” I say, and even I can hear the edge in my voice. “You have a very friendly neighbor. Who wants to take you to dinner. And help you relax.”
River glances at me, and there’s amusement in his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I focus on the road, turning onto Main Street. “It’s just fascinating how some people have zero concept of personal space. Or reading social cues. Or noticing that there’s another person in the car.”
“She’s harmless.”
“She was draped across my car like a decoration.” The words come out sharper than I intend, and I immediately wish I could take them back. Why do I even care? River can have dinner with whoever he wants. It’s none of my business.
Except the thought of him sitting across from Shelly at some fancy seafood restaurant, her laughing and touching his arm while he smiles at her, makes something twist uncomfortably in my chest.
River chuckles, and the sound is warm and genuine. “I didn’t realize it bothered you that much.”
“It doesn’t bother me.” I turn into the parking lot behind the bookstore, maybe a little faster than necessary. “I just think it’s rude to ignore someone sitting right there. Basic manners, you know?”
“Basic manners,” he repeats, and I can tell he’s trying not to smile. “Right.”
I park the car and kill the engine, grateful for the distraction of the apartment viewing. The bookstore is a charming two-story brick building with a bright blue door and window boxes full of flowers. Above it, I can see windows that must belong to the studio apartment.
My apartment. Maybe. Hopefully.
The nervous excitement returns, pushing thoughts of blonde, flirty neighbors out of my mind. This is what matters. Not River’s social life or who wants to take him to dinner. This apartment could be my fresh start.
River and I get out of the car, and a woman in her fifties with kind eyes and graying hair approaches us from the bookstore’s back entrance. She’s wearing a cardigan despite the warm weather, and she’s carrying a clipboard.
“You must be Kiera,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m Martha Sullivan. I own the bookstore and the apartment upstairs.”
“Hi.” I shake her hand, trying to project confidence I don’t entirely feel. “Thanks for letting me view the apartment. This is my friend River. I hope it’s okay that I brought someone along.”
“Of course!” Martha smiles at River. “It’s always good to have a second opinion. Let me show you up.”
She leads us to a side door and up a narrow staircase. The steps are worn but solid, and the stairwell smells like fresh paint. At the top, Martha unlocks a door and gestures us inside.
The apartment is small but it’s flooded with afternoon light from two large windows that face Main Street. The main room serves as a combined living space and bedroom, with a kitchenette along one wall and a doorway that presumably leads to the bathroom.
“It’s a studio, as you can see,” Martha explains, moving into the space.
“About four hundred square feet total. The kitchenette has a small oven, two-burner stove, and a mini fridge. Bathroom is through there.” She points to the doorway.
“Utilities are included except for electricity, which runs about forty dollars a month.”
I walk toward the windows, taking in the view of Main Street below. I can see the coffee shop across the street, the harbor in the distance. It’s exactly the kind of view I imagined when I pictured having my own place.
River moves around the apartment with purpose, and I watch as he starts asking questions I wouldn’t have thought to ask.
“What’s the heating situation?” he says, examining the baseboard heaters.
“Electric heat,” Martha replies. “The building is well-insulated, so it doesn’t cost too much to heat in winter.”
River nods and continues his inspection. He opens the oven, checks the water pressure in the bathroom sink, examines the window locks, and even tests the floorboards for creaks.
“Has the apartment been inspected recently?” he asks. “Any issues with the roof or plumbing?”
“The whole building was inspected last year,” Martha says. “Everything passed with flying colors. The roof is only five years old, and I had the plumbing updated three years ago.”
River peers into the tiny closet, then checks behind the refrigerator. “What about the lease terms? Month-to-month or annual?”
“I prefer annual leases, but I can be flexible for the right tenant.” Martha glances at me with a warm smile. “Kiera’s references from the bakery were excellent. Levi Barrett speaks very highly of her.”
My cheeks warm at the compliment. Levi really did that for me? Put in a good word?
River continues his methodical inspection, testing the locks on the windows, checking for signs of water damage on the ceiling, even looking under the kitchen sink for any pipe issues.
I’m grateful I asked him to come—I would have just looked at the space and thought it seemed nice without catching any of the details he’s noticing.
“The hot water heater is shared with the bookstore downstairs,” Martha explains as River examines something near the bathroom. “But the bookstore doesn’t use a lot of hot water so you’ll never run out during a shower.”
After about fifteen minutes of River’s thorough inspection, Martha excuses herself to answer a phone call and heads back downstairs, leaving us alone in the apartment.
I immediately turn to River. “So? What do you think? Is it a disaster? Should I run screaming?”
He leans against the kitchenette counter, considering.
“Okay, here’s the honest assessment. The good first. It’s clean, well-maintained, and in a great location.
Martha clearly takes care of her property.
The windows are solid, the heating works, and having utilities included is a big plus.
The water pressure is decent, and I didn’t see any signs of leaks or structural issues. ”
“And the bad?”
“It’s small. Really small. You’re not going to have much storage space, and the kitchenette is pretty limited.
The oven is tiny—you’ll have to get creative if you’re practicing for cooking competitions.
” He gestures to the two-burner stove. “And you’ll be living directly above a bookstore, which means you’ll probably hear customers during the day. ”
I look around the space, trying to see it through his eyes. It is small. And the kitchenette will take some getting used to. But it’s mine. Or it could be. And I can practice for the competition in River’s massive kitchen.
“But overall?” I prompt, needing his final verdict.
River’s expression softens. “Overall, it’s a good deal. Nine hundred a month for a place this close to the harbor, with utilities included, in a safe building with a landlord who actually cares? That’s hard to find. You’d be fine here, Kiera. More than fine.”
Relief floods through me, so powerful it makes my knees weak. This is really happening. I can really do this. And I can’t believe River took time out from all of his editing to come help me assess the apartment.
Before I can think about what I’m doing, I close the distance between us and throw my arms around River in a hug.
He hesitates a moment, then his arms come up around me, pulling me closer.
One hand rests on my back, warm and steady, and the other settles at my waist. He smells like soap and something woodsy and utterly distracting, and I’m suddenly aware of everything—the solidness of his chest against mine, the way his heart is beating just a little too fast, the warmth of his breath near my hair.
Attraction zings through me like electricity, sharp and undeniable. My whole body lights up with awareness, and I can feel the exact places where we’re touching—my arms around his shoulders, his hands on my back and waist, the way we fit together like we’ve done this a thousand times before.
This is dangerous. I’m feeling things I promised myself I wouldn’t. This is exactly what I swore I wouldn’t let happen.
I pull back quickly, maybe too quickly, my heart racing.
River lets me go immediately, stepping back to give me space, but the feeling of being in his arms lingers on my skin like a phantom touch.
I can still feel the warmth of his hands, the solid strength of him, the way my body responded to his proximity.
“Sorry,” I say, my voice coming out breathless. “I just—I’m excited. This is really happening.”
“Don’t apologize.” His voice is rough, and when I risk a glance at his face, his eyes are darker than usual, focused on me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. “I’m happy for you, Kiera. You deserve this.”
I force myself to look away, to focus on the apartment instead of the way my body is still humming from that brief contact. “I should tell Martha I’ll take it. Sign whatever paperwork she needs.”
“Yeah.” River clears his throat and shoves his hands in his pockets. “That’s a good idea.”
We head back downstairs together, and I’m hyperaware of every inch of space between us. My skin still tingles where he touched me. I can still feel the impression of his arms around me, the way it felt safe and terrifying all at once.
This is definitely a problem. Because I’m not supposed to feel this way about River Stone.
I’m not supposed to want him to touch me again, to hold me longer, to look at me the way he was looking at me just now.
I’m supposed to keep this professional, keep my walls up, protect myself from getting hurt again. Besides, River’s way out of my league.
But as Martha appears with the lease paperwork and a pen, and River stands beside me offering quiet encouragement, I can’t deny the truth anymore.
I’m in trouble. The kind of trouble that starts with a harmless hug and ends with a shattered heart.
And I have no idea how to stop it.