Just like that, my truck disappears down the mountain, carrying with it my original plans for a smooth transition to small-town life.
"Ready?" Dean asks quietly.
I look at my truck being towed away, at the boxes in his truck, at this man who keeps showing up exactly when I need him. Words fail me, so I just nod.
"Lead the way."
We follow the tow truck down, but turn off toward Jake's office instead of the garage. The storage units are small but clean, and Jake himself appears with coffee and keys.
"Welcome to Wylde Mountain," he grins, helping us unload as I realize he’s the one I saw Dean speaking to earlier. "Sorry about the apartment. Emma says you're staying with Dean?"
Something in his tone makes me blush. "Just until the pipes are fixed."
"Right." He and Dean exchange a look I can't read. "Well, let me know if you need anything."
An hour later, my life is neatly tucked away in storage unit seven, except for two boxes and a duffel bag of necessities. Sitting in Dean's truck again, watching the town wake upproperly, I feel oddly light. Like maybe sometimes you have to let things break to find out what's truly solid.
"Home?" Dean asks, then clears his throat. "I mean, to the cabin?"
"Yes," I say, and mean it more than I should. "Home."
Chapter 6
Dean
"So," Harper says, twirling pasta around her fork, "do you cook like this for all your stranded houseguests, or am I special?"
The candlelight catches in her hair, and I force myself to look at my plate instead. "Don't get many stranded houseguests." I had insisted she stay in the guest room in my cabin instead of the guest cabin. It was a practical decision, that’s all.
"I find that hard to believe. Tall, handsome mountain man who makes homemade pasta sauce? There should be a line down your driveway."
I nearly choke on my wine. "Handsome?"
Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn't back down. "Oh, please. You own mirrors."
"Actually, returned them all. Scared the bears."
She laughs, bright and unexpected, and something in my chest loosens. "Did you just make a joke? Should I check for fever?"
"I'm capable of humor."
"Mm, debatable. Emma says you once went six months without smiling."
I set down my fork. "You've known Emma for twelve hours."
"And she's very informative." Harper's eyes dance with mischief. "Did you really punch Jake Morgan for stealing your lunch in third grade?"
"Fourth grade. And he deserved it."
"Of course he did." She takes another bite, making a small sound of appreciation that does dangerous things to my self-control. "This is amazing, by the way. Where'd you learn to cook?"
"My mother." The answer comes easier than expected. "She believed every man should know how to feed himself properly."
"Smart woman."
"She was." The past tense hangs between us for a moment before Harper speaks again.
"Tell me about her?"
