After he handed her the site number, his tone softened.
“Creek’ll lull you right to sleep. Nothin’ safer than Moonshine at night.” She wanted to trust him—to believe in the easy warmthof Southern hospitality—but trust was something you used up and never quite got back.
Darcy thanked him, feeling the knot of worry in her chest lessen. As she stepped outside toward her camper, she looked back to see Ned humming, already filling the coffee pot, sunlight glinting on his silver hair.
After finding her campsite, Darcy stood by the creek, letting the cool air steady her. Each site was private and shaded by tall hardwoods. Water tumbled over stones, its steady sound filling the air. Moonshine Creek shimmered under fading light, the current catching flashes of gold and silver before sliding into shadow.
She trailed her fingers in the cold water, the chill cutting through the weariness that clung to her bones. Somewhere down the hollow, a dog barked, answered by another across the ridge.
She tried to imagine this place as a new beginning. But even surrounded by quiet woods and the soft rush of water, a tingle of worry lingered at the edge of her quiet. After one more check behind her, she stepped in and secured the door.
Sheriff Burke Scott
Sheriff Burke Scott stepped off the curb toward the visitor center just as a petite, strawberry-blonde woman emerged—a flash of gold in the sunlight. She moved with quiet confidence, turning heads as she crossed toward City Limits Café & Books.
He pushed through the door with a grin. “Hi there, Miss Lou! How are you today?”
Mary Lou beamed. “Oh, Burke! Good to see you! I’m doing great—how about you?”
“Can’t complain.” He rested a hand on the counter, his tanned fingers drumming absently.
At thirty-eight, Burke had grown comfortably into his father’s legacy as sheriff. The town adored him—steady, devoted, a fixture. He cut an unmistakable figure in the pressed khaki uniform and badge that gleamed on his chest. Six-foot-two, broad-shouldered, sun-browned from long days on mountain roads, with hair the color of wheat in summer and eyes bluer than a Carolina sky—he looked every bit the lawman the mountains could trust.
Ladies fussed and schemed, forever trying to set him up, while younger women in town found excuses to stop by the station with homemade pies or traffic questions they already knew the answers to. Burke dated now and then, but nothing ever stuck. Somewhere along the way, he’d learned that charm could draw people close—but quiet guardedness kept him safe.
His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer. “So, who was that little blonde who just left?”
Mary Lou’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, you noticed, did you? That was Darcy.”
“Darcy,” he repeated, tasting the name. “A tourist?”
“Actually, she’s here researching her ancestry. Some of her relatives lived around here long ago.”
“Really? Do you know who?”
“I didn’t catch their names, honey, but she’s staying at Moonshine.”
“Camping?” His brows lifted.
“Alone? Now, Burke, you know I didn’t ask her that!”
Mary Lou laughed.
Burke chuckled, the sound easy and warm. “Well, I might swing by and check on ole Ned later—just make sure everything’s good at the park.”
Mary Lou raised a brow, but he only smiled and tipped his hat.
Outside, sunlight caught that same flash of hair as the woman stepped into the café. Curiosity tugged at him before he could help it.
Feeling the pull of coffee—and maybe something else—Burke headed into City Limits Café & Books and slid onto a stool at the counter.
“Hi, Sheriff! What’ll it be?” Willow called.
“Just black coffee, please.”
“Coming right up!”
Burke scanned the room. A glass of tea sat four stools down. A moment later, the woman’s head appeared from behind the book nook. When she noticed him, she offered a polite smile and ducked back to her seat.
