Parker’s words lingered in the car, hanging in the space between the windshield and the wide stretch of blue sky ahead of us. I watched the horizon roll on, uninterrupted.
I understood exactly what she meant. Theminepart.
Rose City felt like that to me in a way nowhere else ever had. It was the first place that felt like a choice instead of an obligation, like I’d planted myself there on purpose and was finally letting myself grow.
Dang it. Jared would’ve been so proud of my plant analogy.
The second we entered the Grande Ronde Valley, everything clicked into place. Holy fucking gorgeousness.
Rolling hills unfurled in soft waves of emerald, dotted everywhere with wildflowers. Bright pops of yellow balsamroot, purple lupine, and white and pink patches of phlox carpeted the slopes like someone had spilled paint. Cattle grazed in the distance, dark blobs against the green.
The road dipped between the Blue Mountains on one side and the Wallowa Mountains on the other, two national forests framing this unexpected pocket of paradise. And much like that Brad Pitt movie, a river ran through it. Feeding everything, turning the valley into a lush contrast against the desert we had just crossed.
Parker slowed the car a little so I could take it in. “Worth the drive?”
“Oh, yeah,” I breathed.
By the time we rolled into the handful of brick buildings lining the street—as in, theonlystreet—in downtown Awful, the sun had started to set, turning the valley gold.
Parker parked in front of a narrow storefront with the “For Lease” sign still taped crookedly in the window and gestured toward it with pride.
“Here she is,” she said. “My future empire.”
I followed her toward the door, blanching when she reached for the handle. “Don’t we need a key or something?”
“Please.” She snorted. “This is Awful. We don’t even have a sheriff’s department.”
“So what happens if somebody commits a crime?”
She smiled wickedly. “Public shaming and retribution.”
My eyebrows shot up before I could stop them. For a second, I just stared at her, trying to decide how much of that was a joke.
We stepped inside and were immediately assaulted by the smell of old wood and fresh paint. Parker had already started transforming the space into her soon-to-be spa sanctuary—a portable massage table here, a stack of unopened boxes there, each one labeled in bold, slanted handwriting.
A rolling cart held neatly arranged bottles of oil and lotions, their glass catching the last of the golden light spilling in through the front windows. The walls were still bare in places, patched and uneven, but she’d already begun softening them with swatches of warm earth tones.
Awful might have been tiny, but Parker was dreaming big.
“It’s rough, I know,” she admitted, running a hand through her icy blonde hair. “Butifyou can imagine it, this will be the waiting area. Packed full of plants and this stunning, vintage couch I found at a flea market in Portland. In the back, there’s room for two treatment rooms. And the best part? All natural ingredients, with milk sourced from Duffy Dairy and honey from my new friend’s business, Comb Sweet Comb.”
I smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement. “Your new friend?”
“I mean, she’s a total smokeshow, and if I thought I had a shot at something beyond friendship, I would go for it.”
The words hit me sideways, catching somewhere between surprise and, okay, flattery.
“Relax,” she quickly added. “I know you’ve got your baseballer and you’re very clearly into him. I’m happy to just be friends.”
“Andcollaborators.”
Parker beamed, bumping her shoulder into mine. “That’s right.Andcollaborators.” She grabbed my hand and quicklytugged me back the way we had come. “Now, let’s go next door so you can meet the warden.”
I blinked. “The who?”
A cheerful bell jingled when we popped into the neighboring shop.The Cat Who Got the Cream.The place was small but bright, with pastel walls, a long counter displaying tubs of ice cream in every color imaginable, and a chalkboard menu listing flavors like “Turtlesaurus Rex” and “Ruth Bader Ginger.”
Behind the counter stood a woman who could only be Parker's older sister. Catarina Duffy was tall, easily six feet, with broad shoulders and long legs that made her look like she could stride across any battlefield. A modern-day Amazonian.
