Burke
Balsam Falls Brewing Company was crowded for a weeknight, the hum of voices rolling over the clink of glasses. Burke nursed his pint, leaning against the corner table.
Scout slid into the seat across from him, lifting his own beer with a lazy grin. They never needed many words; years of working side by side made silence easy.
After a few minutes, Scout tipped his glass, eyes narrowing. “So… what—or should I say who—has you so distracted?”
Burke forced a grin, but the rusted edge of a barstool pressing into his thigh kept him in the moment. His eyes drifted past Scout to the pool table, unfocused, missing the crack of a cue and the shout of a local’s win.
“Mm-hm,” Scout said, reading him easily. “Bet she’s blonde, about this tall… real pretty.”
Burke gave him a flat look over the rim of his glass. “You’re a nosy bastard, you know that?”
Scout’s grin widened. “Nope. Just observant.”
Burke tried to shrug it off but gave up. “Yeah, alright. You’re not wrong. This gal… she gets under my skin. Can’t get her out of my head, no matter how hard I try.”
Scout raised his glass in salute. “Still. Good to see you interested for a change. And she is a looker.”
Burke shot him a warning look, but Scout only smirked into his beer.
For a while, neither spoke, the easy quiet stretching between them again. The jukebox shifted songs, a blues riff rumbling low through the noise. Scout slid another coaster his way, and Burke took it absently.
He could joke, drink, and distract himself all night, but none of it dulled the craving. He wanted her—wanted the way she’d tasted last night, wanted every fierce and trembling bit. The ache kept building, miles away from her, craving a future he wasn’t sure he deserved.
Chapter 22
Exposure
Darcy
The courthouse bell echoed off the mountains as Darcy’s phone vibrated with a message from Burke: “Truck’s out front when you’re ready. No rush.”
The gentle warmth in his words made her smile. Not long ago, Jason demanded dinner at precisely seven—no exceptions. Now, for the first time in years, her own pace mattered.
Darcy paused at her cottage door, hand on the cool knob, giving herself a quiet moment before stepping into Burke’s world. Everything with him felt patient and unforced. Coffee at City Limits led to drives along the Blue Ridge; quiet evenings on Burke’s porch blurred into laughter over burgers at the Sky Bar. She slipped into the rhythm of her new life almost before she realized it, savoring a freedom she hadn’t known she needed.
Her days grew gentle and steady—afternoons marked by Main Street’s hum, evenings by Burke’s truck easing up her street. He never pushed for more, always waiting for her to choose to meet him, as if he understood how much those choices meant.
Her cottage on Oak Street—cornflower blue with white shutters and a silver-gray tin roof—looked plain yet inviting beneath two oaks. Street parking in front was a nuisance, so she always tucked her Jeep behind the house on the narrow gravel lane. The small, open back-yard, visible from the street, reminded her that starting over in a small town didn’t mean true invisibility.
Inside, bead-board walls and wide-plank floors offered warmth and comfort—nothing like Jason’s cold Denver mansion. Even as a rental, it felt hers in a way nothing with Jason ever had.
She didn’t miss luxury. Her single indulgence wasEssence of Spring, a watercolor above the fireplace. Its mossy rocks and pale blossoms let her imagine she was waking from a long sleep. Each morning, tea in hand, she’d study the painting until the colors blurred—reminding herself she wasn’t frozen anymore.
That Friday at Mountain Credit Union, she handed over her ID and first paycheck. The teller lingered a beat too long on the card. Darcy coached herself:Just a deposit. Routine. Nothing to invite questions.
The bell over the door jingled. Deputy Sara Parker entered in her crisp tan uniform, auburn hair swept into a ponytail. She nodded at the teller and gave Darcy a measured look.
“Settling in, are you?”
Darcy forced a small smile. “I guess I am.”
A bright voice called out: “Darcy! Hey, Darcy!”
She didn’t react at all. The name slid past—strange, unfamiliar—until Willow from City Limits reached the counter. Only then did it click—Darcy.That was her now.
“Sorry,” Darcy said, a little too brightly. “Hi, Willow.”
