She nods.“Will do.”
And with that, we head toward the chaos, because apparently, I didn’t get enough at home.
Once we arrive in town, before I can even shift the car into park, the door is opened, and my siblings rush out.My family is absolutely doing my head in, but at least I can trust the townspeople to keep an eye on them.
The soft glow of fairy lights covers the town square, hanging from building to tree to gazebo, illuminating the crisp evening.The air carries the scent of cinnamon and roasted nuts, mixing with the woodsy tang of a bonfire crackling in the distance.The long communal table stretches down the street, dressed in white linen and decoratedwith delicate, colorful flowers and neatly arranged glassware.
A small folk band plays near the town hall, the sound of a fiddle blending with the murmurs of conversation.It’s spectacular.Almost enough to make me forget the sheer craziness of my life.Almost.
I lift my camera and snap a few pictures, not sure where to start; there’s so much to take in.Wine barrels set up for games, a town hall ready for dancing, hay bale sofas draped with crisp white sheets, and makeshift coffee tables made from overturned barrels.
Turning slowly, I try to fit it all into the frame, but part of me just wants to stand still and soak it in.It’s the kind of effort that makes me love this town.It’s also the kind of effort I wish wasn’t being wasted on a man with a reputation for breaking rules… medical ones, no less.A doctor, of all things.
I back up a few steps, angling my camera to get the perfect shot.A photo that would make my whole article pop.The light hits just right, framing the town hall doors and the glow of string lights above the hay bale sofas.I hold my breath, finger hovering over the shutter—
“Oof—”
A firm grip steadies me, large hands wrapping around my arms.The warmth of his touch seeps through my sleeves, holding me before I can stumble.I peer up into familiar piercing blue eyes, a chiseled jaw, and the shadow of stubble that makes him look frustratingly good.His scent is a mix of deep wood and velvety black cocoa.My stomach drops.
It’s Adrian.As in,thatAdrian.The one I wrote about and stopped to help with the flock of turkeys.
“Sorry,” he says, voice deep enough to vibrate right through me as he lets go of me.He’s dressed in jeans and a top, with a worn leather jacket, like he didn’t even try and still somehow nailed the fall festival look.I noticed the first time we met, that for a guy, he knows how to dress.Plus, they’re designer.I spot the fabrics and logos immediately.
His gaze holds mine for a second too long, and recognition flickers in his expression.
I cock my head when I finish my inspection.“You’re missing something.”
His eyebrows knit together, his eyes darting around.“What am I missing?”
“Your turkeys.”
He exhales a laugh, shaking his head.“I never want to see them again.”
“Well, you might not have much of a choice.”
“Why’s that?”he asks, one eyebrow lifting slightly.
“Thanksgiving’s next weekend.”
He groans.“Great.What does the town do?Dance with them?”
I snort.“No, we keep them as town mascots.Cooking them is off-limits.”
His expression darkens.“Those turkeys are gonna haunt me forever, aren’t they?”
“Yep.But you haven’t met the goats yet.”
“Goats?Jesus.I need to hide.”
I grin, taking in his broad frame, the way he towers just enough to make me lift my chin.He’s entirely too good-looking to fade into the background.“You’re not gonna stay hidden here, you know.The single people are going to eat you alive.”
“Not you, though?”His voice dips, the challenge unmistakable.
I lift a shoulder.“I have priorities.Work, family.Before I even think about anything else, I need to know your story.”
His gaze flickers with something unreadable, the amusement in his eyes shifting.
Just as he opens his mouth, Keith approaches, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder.“I see you’ve met Adrian.”
