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Something warm and unfamiliar unfurls in my chest. I’m used to guys who offer help with an invisible price tag attached. I’ll carry this, but you owe me dinner. I’ll fix that, but what’s in it for me? These three, though? They’re simply . . . doing it. No strings, no expectations, no ulterior motives I can detect. They watch me, patiently waiting for me to succumb to their demands and let them take care of me.

“Okay, okay. You win, but I’m carrying something on the way back.”

“We’ll see,” Hudson says, already heading toward the trailhead.

The hike starts easy enough, a well-maintained path that winds alongside the river. The sound of rushing water mingles with the crunch of leaves under our boots. Being out in nature is always so calming. Big Ridge is a small town, but tourism makes it feel like a big city during busy seasons. It’s nice to be reminded what slowing down is like.

“How’s the Showalter job going?” I ask, falling into step beside Gage.

“Wrapped up yesterday, actually.” He adjusts the pack on his shoulders. “Hudson’s been itching to get back to your place.”

I glance over at Hudson, who’s leading our little group like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah? How much more is left?”

“Couple weeks, maybe three if we run into any surprises,” Cole chimes in from behind me. “Why? Getting tired of us cluttering up your driveway?”

“Actually,” I bite my lip, nervous about what I’m about to ask, “I was wondering if maybe I could help out sometime? I know I don’t know construction, but I can learn. Fetch tools, hold things steady, whatever you need.”

The guys exchange a look I can’t quite read.

“It’s your place, Lil,” Gage says finally. “Of course you can help.”

“Plus,” Hudson adds without turning around, “extra hands are always welcome.”

The happiness that floods through me is probably way out of proportion to the situation, but I don’t care. I get to spend more time with them, learn something new, and be involved in turning my house into a home.

We pass other hikers on our way up. A couple holding hands, a family with kids who are complaining about the walk, an older man with a fancy camera. The trail’s getting steeper, but the conversation keeps flowing. I’m a little surprised by how natural this feels. There are times in every new relationship where things are awkward. Where silence stretches for too long and it’s stifling.

Not with these guys, though. When quiet lulls between us, it’s comfortable.

A chorus of giggles erupts ahead of us. I glance around Hudson to see three girls, probably college age, making their way down the trail. Their eyes are glued to the guys, and when they notice me looking, their expressions shift to something that looks a lot like envy.

I hide my smile, but Gage catches it anyway. He nudges me with his elbow. We share a look that says we both know exactly what just happened.

“Popular, aren’t you?” I murmur.

“They’re looking at you too,” he says quietly. “Probably wondering how you got so lucky.”

“My, aren’t you humble.”

“I try,” he says with a wink.

Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls out from ahead.

“Lily? Is that you, sweetheart?” Sally Mae is hiking toward us, decked out in full hiking gear. Whenever she picks up a hobby, she takes it incredibly seriously. Hiking, gardening, gossiping. The last means she’ll have no boundaries when it comes to my personal life. I can’t be mad at her, though. She’s always treated me like a second daughter and she helped me and mom feel welcomed when we moved to Big Ridge. For that, she’ll always have a special place in my heart.

“Hey, Sally.”

She immediately catalogs the three men flanking me, and I swear I see her lips twitch with barely contained glee.

“Boys,” she says with a nod. “How nice to see you all together.”

“Mrs. Harrison,” they chorus, lining up for hugs.

Despite her gossiping, everyone loves Sally Mae. She’s a good person. Looks out for everyone and always makes sure we’re fed after local events. She gives them all quick hugs then walks to me.

“I went and visited your mama the other day. She seems content.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell her.