He reached out, fingertips resting on the bar between them, an invitation more than a touch.
“This time,” he said, “I’m asking if you’ll let me stay. Here. With you. We can figure out the rest. The Hideaway, Europe. All of it. I don’t want you to sell this place. And before you start listing the reasons why you have to,” he added, like he knew her too well already, “I’ve accepted a job at the campground. Walt offered it to me, and I said yes.”
“You’re working at that campground?”
He nodded. “Around my photography trips and my writing. You don’t have to worry about it anymore. We’re in this together.”
It was ridiculous, how many thoughts could flash through a person’s head in a single heartbeat.
The new offer letter for the Hideaway, still sitting in her inbox.
Her grandparents on the porch.
Robyn in the apartment above the bookshop, already half in love with Maple Falls and maybe with Tyler too. Krista could see her sister was falling for the bookish editor, and he was a big improvement on Professor Beige Cardigan.
She thought about Isabel’s looping handwriting.Love does not only grant us the freedom to run, but also the courage to stay.
And Joe. Standing in front of her in this place she’d built, choosing her. Choosing this.
Krista set the bar towel down.
Her hands shook as she rounded the bar.
Joe watched her come, eyes wide and hopeful.
When she stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, the whole patio seemed to hold its breath.
“I’ve been telling myself I can do the practical thing. The responsible thing. Sell the Hideaway, tie everything up neatly, make sure Grandma and Gramps are taken care of.” Her throat tightened. “But I don’t want to. I don’t want to hand over the keys and watch someone else stand behind my bar. I don’t want to lose the Hideaway. I don’t want to lose what I built.”
Her eyes stung, and she didn’t look away. “But most of all, I don’t want to lose you.”
She reached for his shirt, fingers curling in the soft cotton.
“So yes,” Krista said, heart pounding. “Stay. Please stay.”
For a heartbeat, Joe just looked at her, like he was trying to memorize every line of her face.
Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.
The patio erupted. Someone cheered. Madison wolf-whistled. Kit screamed something about “finally,” and Elsie yelled, “This is going in the recap!” which earned her a chorus of “NO!” from at least three directions.
But all of it blurred into background noise.
For Krista, there was only the solid weight of Joe’s hands, the taste of lime and honey and him, the feeling of something inside her finally, finally clicking into place.
When they broke apart, breathless and grinning, he rested his forehead against hers. “So,” he murmured. “You’re not selling the Hideaway just yet?”
She laughed, tears spilling over now, not even trying to wipe them away. “We’ll talk business tomorrow,” she said. “Tonight, I just want to be with my…whatever you are.”
He grinned. “Your guy?”
Her heart did a very undignified swoop. “My cowboy.” She grinned.
“That I can be,” Joe said, kissing her again as their friends whooped around them.
EPILOGUE
KRISTA
