Sawyer’s steady and solid, the kind of man who builds fences by sunrise and fixes broken things just because he can’t stand to see them left undone.
I’m still the girl who’s never stayed anywhere long enough to hang a picture.
And yet, somehow, his house already feels a little bit like home.
Still, I don’t want anyone—especially Angie or any of the guys—to think I’m just freeloading off the boss.
So when I asked Angie about that unused sewing machine she mentioned, she showed me to the pantry where it was sitting under a layer of dust.
It took some tinkering, a bit of WD-40, and a few muttered prayers, but I got it running again.
Then I opened the trunk in the spare room—the one that looked like it hadn’t been touched since 1952—and nearly squealed out loud.Inside was a treasure trove of fabric.
Real vintage stuff—cottons and brocades, a few bits of lace, even some velvet in burnt orange and gold.
All my favorite fall colors.
October settled over Dry Creek like a painting—crisp mornings that smelled of frost and coffee, golden afternoons that made the pastures shimmer, and sunsets so deep and orange they looked like they’d been brushed on with a wide, lazy hand.
Everything glowed from within, the kind of glow that makes you forget summer ever existed and fall headfirst in love with fall.
I couldn’t help myself.
After that day with the magic trunk, I’d been itching to do something with all those fabrics.
So I ordered a few bits and pieces online—thread, needles, a rotary cutter, and some fabric stabilizer.
And can I just take a moment to thank free overnight delivery options?Seriously.Lifesaver.
Once everything arrived, I set up the sewing machine in the small spare room off the kitchen, and I made it my own.
It became my little corner of peace.
Every time the light hit just right, it felt like I was stitching sunshine straight into the fabric.
At first, it was just pillow covers for the couch—simple, warm colors that matched the season.
Then I made curtains for the living room, another set for the kitchen, and a pair of aprons fashioned out of old floral dresses from the trunk.
Angie’s going to lose her mind when she sees them.I even made a few tea towels with embroidered acorns along the edges.
And somewhere between threading bobbins and ironing seams, something in me shifted.
Before I knew it, I was piecing together a quilt—big enough to throw across the back of the sofa.
The kind of quilt that begs for lazy nights and warm cocoa.
The kind you can snuggle under with a certain cowboy while pretending to watch a movie.
Believe me, I’m just as surprised as you are, but I think I’m starting tolovethe idea of domestic bliss now that I’ve found my person.
My very own cowboy.
After that, I couldn’t stop.
I made a table runner with tiny applique leaves, matching placemats, even a decorative wall hanging for the far side of the living room where the paint looked a little too bare.
It’s been absolute hell keeping it a secret.
