A week later, routine crept back in. Wednesday afternoons in Sylva once again belonged to the book club.
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the Tea Room just off the library, glinting over stacks of paperbacks and cups of tea poured into a porcelain set borrowed from the archives. Every week, the women gathered here—their laughter filling the quiet halls, warm and familiar.
Today, a white box from Cotton Leigh Bakery sat at the center of the oak table, the air rich with butter and citrus. Caitlin had picked up lemon bars, brownies, and a few scones that had been impossible to resist.
“You’ll spoil us,” Willow Harkens teased, licking sugar from her fingers. “Mercy, Cotton Leigh outdid themselves this week.”
Marlene Phelps tapped the cover of the day’s paperback. “If the heroine in this story were half as smart as Caitlin, she’d have avoided half her troubles.”
The circle chuckled. Caitlin blushed. “I’m not sure I’d call what I went through smart.”
Willow leaned in, bracelets chiming. “Caitlin, you’re one of us now. Don’t you doubt it. This town takes care of its own.”
Mrs. Kinsey grinned. “And we just love that you and Sheriff Scott finally found each other. Took long enough.”
Laughter rippled through the room. Rosie thumped her tail under the table, earning crumbs of lemon bar from sympathetic hands. For once, the whispers around Caitlin weren’t edged with pity—they were threaded with affection.
As the conversation swelled around her, Caitlin felt an old instinct—waiting for the laughter to hush, for some invisible line to reappear. But the women’s smiles only brightened, drawing her in further until, for the first time, she realized the barrier was gone; she was utterly, fully welcome.
Willow winked. “And when the day comes, we’ll help plan the wedding. Between Cotton Leigh’s lemon bars and my church ladies, it’ll be the event of the year.”
The laughter that followed was low and warm. Caitlin smiled with them, the last of her old tension easing away. Here, in the halls that once held fear, she’d found something she thought she’d lost forever—belonging.
When the meeting ended, Rosie trotted beside her, powdered sugar dusting her nose. The sight made Caitlin laugh out loud—her first easy laugh in a long time.
The oak doors creaked open. Cool air slipped in, carrying the faint scent of rain and leaves. Burke leaned against the frame, hat tipped back, eyes catching the last gold light through the windows. The chatter behind her softened.
“Well, look who the cat dragged in,” Emma said with a sly smile.
Burke nodded toward the group, though his gaze found only Caitlin. “Afternoon, ladies. Didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You never intrude,” Maggie said, with a grin far too approving.
Caitlin’s blush deepened as Burke stepped closer, sliding an arm around her waist. Rosie sniffed his pocket, tail wagging.
“Girl,” Burke chuckled, scratching her ears. “No lemon bars for you. You’re spoiled enough.”
Then, before Caitlin could speak, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. The room’s soft murmur turned to delighted laughter.
“Mercy.” Willow fanned herself with her paperback. “Sheriff Scott, you’ll send us all into a swoon.”
Burke only grinned, unbothered, his hand steady at Caitlin’s side. For once, she didn’t mind the attention. She belonged—here, with these women, and with him.
BURKE & CAITLIN
That night, frost crept along the porch rails as the mountains settled into an early-December hush. The cabin glowed warm against the dark, lamplight spilling softly across the porch. Inside, Rosie circled once by the fire before curling into her bed with a sigh.
Burke set his hat on the peg and turned, watching Caitlin place her bag on the chair. She looked luminous in the amber light—hair catching the fire’s glow, cheeks still flushed from laughter, eyes softer than he’d ever seen them.
Before she could turn, he crossed the room and drew her into his arms. His lips brushed her temple, then traced a path along her neck.
A shiver ran through Caitlin, her breath catching as her fingers curled into his shirt.
She’s here—safe. Mine to hold now, not his to hurt. The thought surged through Burke, fierce enough to steal his breath.
Caitlin’s laugh trembled with emotion. “You make me feel like the world finally stopped spinning.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, voice rough. “You’re my steady, Caitlin. You always were.”
