He didn’t want this right now. Things with Fern couldnotgo further. He was supposed to be ignoring their potential bond. Sure, they had music in common, but what was one band in a sea of terrible tunes? She might be into death metal or experimental jazz, too. He couldn’t have that. Plus, she was ahuman,for fuck’s sake, and he was a solitary bear.
6
Fern gets gifts.
Elliottleft,andFernblinked at the door for two seconds before cranking her music and packing another bowl. She wanted to zoneout, to not overthink whatever that was, and she needed to get her freaking apartment unpacked.
A little determined and a lot stoned, she organized her silverware drawer, found a home for her rainbow of towels, and fought the dresser until it closed. At four-thirty she stomped down the last of her cardboard boxes, stripped out of her clothes, and jumped in the shower. Beneath the hammering stream, she revisited what was a contender for the longest Saturday ever. A final determination could be made after the welcome party, but the odds were looking good.
She'd left the house at six that morning to drop off her U-Haul before her ten o'clock meeting with Rosalind, the slowly retiring owner of the Big Chop. Ros gave her a tour, and Fern fell in love with the white clapboard exterior, the four windows framing the forest green door, and, of course, the flamboyant woman herself. Much like Ros’s exterior, the building’s interior was bright with a rustic ambiance that seemed the norm in Beckett Falls. There was even the perfect unused corner for a new manicure station.
The hours were reasonable—relaxed. Closed on Sunday and Monday, they never opened before mid-morning and rarely stayed open past three.Occasionally, there’d be a late afternoon, if the people were needy.
“Hair grows fast around these parts,” Ros had claimed, patting the side of her gray pixie cut.
That all sounded good to Fern, flexible and rewarding,exactlywhat she was looking for. Rosalind planned to work a few half days each week to help ease Fern in—but it was definitely to help ease herself out. The older woman joked she might post up at the bookstore to keep up with the town’s news, or sit right by the salon’s front window if a chair was free.
Fern had assured her she’d always be welcome, even in retirement, then Ros promptly gave her the boot. Delivered with a beaming grin and a hug, Rosalind said she had an eleven o’clock appointment and wanted to soak in every moment of her “last official full day.”
On her way home to organize her hellhole studio, Fern had only wasted ten minutes looking at books in Reads & Roasts. For the sake of motivation, she’d promised herself a new novelaftershe unpacked.
She’d returned to Xyzandyr and Jessica’s story and was thoroughly captivated by their first night with Krylynx and Trynt, so much so that she needed to take a short break to handle herself. A good orgasm always helped her focus. After she’d come, she paused the book and found an album to put on.
Thank fuck she’d switched to music, because she’d been knee deep in organizing her toiletries when Elliott showed up. Things unraveled after that, but not necessarily in a bad way.
She thought he didn’t like her, but his gifts were beyond thoughtful, and he came toherplace even though there was a dinner party that night. So, she pushed a bit... and a bit more,justto see if she was imagining his attraction to her.
She wasn’t.
The man could kiss, and he wasmassive—a bulky, beefy, bear of a guy. He seemed chill, too, like Liv said, and funny, when he wasn’t being a freaking weirdo and trying to get away from her.
As she rinsed her conditioner, Fern reminded herselfnotto get her hopes up.
But it was too late. And she knew her damn hopes were soaring whenshe spent extra time putting loose curls in her hair to make sure the bleached layer spiraled through the chocolate brown. He’d commented on it; maybe he liked it. She dressed up too, trying to convince herself it was for herself, for fun, or maybe because Liv was throwing her a party, and Liv was the best. But she knew it was for him—at least a little bit.
Olivia had suggested driving over, but Fern knew their house was less than a quarter mile away. It seemed silly to leave the lot, especially on such a pleasant night. So, she flounced from her apartment in her worn brown sandals and teal sundress, enjoying the late afternoon sun and warm breeze as she walked the block and a half to Northrop House.
Flickering sunlight reflected off the historical landmark sign at the end of Ben and Liv’s long drive, and Fern ran her fingertip over the embossed lettering as she searched for the source of a chittering in the leaves. A squirrel, probably.
Lined with tall pines and canopied by leafy branches, the route welcomed her, shadowy and enticing with a bend up ahead that obscured the house from view. A little moth flitted by before leading the way, and she followed along.
The moth darted left, vanishing into the trees, leaving Fern overly aware that her sandals crunching on gravel were the only noise in the woods. Her heart drummed a heavy cadence, and she felt like Jessica, walking out of her tent in the desert to a silent night and a strange spaceship a hundred yards away.
Not even a bug buzzed.
Acrackand acrashbroke through the quiet, and Fern’s eyes went wide. She hoofed it, jogging toward the house until the sounds of the forest started up again.
At her back, there was a rustle in the foliage, a huff, and a, “Hey.”
She spun to find Elliott emerging from the trees, straightening the hem of his crisp black T-shirt and holding a big basket in his other hand.
“What the fuck? Hi.”
His low laughter rolled toward her.
“Did you just run through the woods?”
His hair was down. Longer than she thought, it swung past his shouldersin thick waves. She itched to shove her hands in it.
