As she closed the trunk, she told herself it was practicality. Nothing more.
“It’s so kind of you to come so quickly,” Hannah said to Matt.
“It’s no problem. Luckily, when Caleb called, the restaurant was quiet because of the rain, so I can spare an hour or so,” Matt replied.
“You own a restaurant?” she asked.
“It’s a family thing,” Matt explained. “Caleb and I help run it along with our parents.”
“That’s great.” The revelation gave Hannah more confidence in her decision to accept Caleb’s help. The man seemed to be a pillar of the community.
“It is,” Matt said. “All our brothers worked there at some point. Kind of a rite of passage.” He shrugged. “But the others have moved on and are not as involved in the day-to-day running.”
“It’s still very much a family place,” Caleb said, opening the cab door for her.
“How many brothers do you have?” Hannah asked as she gripped her overnight bag tighter.
“There are six of us,” Caleb said, turning to face her. “And a bunch of cousins.”
“My uncle and aunt own the local vineyard,” Matt said. “We serve their wine at the restaurant. The vineyard sits in a valley with some of the best soil around. The grapes do well there.”
“Vineyard?” Hannah echoed, surprised.
She’d seen the mountains and forests before the rain closed in. But she’d never have guessed there was a vineyard tucked away up there somewhere.
“If you have time,” Caleb said, carefully casual, “I could show it to you. Maybe arrange a tasting.”
“I’d like that.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Not that she wanted to.
Caleb’s mouth curved into a smile, a faint flush rising along his cheekbones. “Me too.”
“Okay, let’s go,” Matt said with a chuckle, heading around the truck to the driver’s door.
“Thanks, Roy,” Caleb called as Hannah climbed into the cab.
When Caleb slid in beside her, the same awareness she’d felt sitting next to him in Roy’s tow truck returned. A current of something indefinable hummed between them, like static electricity, mercifully without the shock.
She told herself it was just proximity.
Just the warmth after the cold.
Just nerves.
But as she pulled the sweater up around her neck and inhaled the lingering scent of him, she felt something shift inside her.
The engine rumbled to life, headlights cutting through the damp blue of early evening, and with it, the sense that she’d crossed some invisible line. Nothing dramatic, nothing final, just a quiet decision she hadn’t quite meant to make.
As they drove, Bear Creek fell away beneath them. The road narrowed and climbed, winding through dense forest that occasionally opened to reveal breathtaking views of the valley below. Hannah watched the town recede, growing smaller and more distant with each curve of the road.
The trees parted suddenly, revealing a cabin tucked into the mountainside. Not large, not remote in a way that felt lonely—but solid and deliberate, built of timber and stone.
The porch was empty. The windows dark. No light spilled out to greet them.
The cabin looked as though it had been waiting for its owner to return.
This was not where she had planned to be. Not even close. But as Hannah looked at the cabin—quiet, unlit, and rooted to the mountain in a way she had never been anywhere—she realized her chest wasn’t tight with anxiety, as it so often was when plans went awry.
Instead, she felt something unfamiliar stir beneath her ribs.
