“No,” she said quickly. Then added, sheepishly, “I thought about it. Trust me. But it felt wrong.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It felt personal, and it’s better seeing it this way. With you showing me. I want to learn about Lily, but I want it to be on your terms. When you’re ready.”

  Her gaze held mine, and I swallowed. “I’m ready.” Her ex-boyfriend had been wrong to call her ruthless. This was not a ruthless journalist. This was a woman who cared deeply.

  “My mother was an incredible photographer. Mostly portraits. She would have been the next Anne Leibovitz.” I took her to the first box as I spoke.

  “So art runs in your blood.”

  “She was the talented one. She could have been huge,” I said, and a hint of bitterness came through.

  She gave me a questioning look, but I didn’t expand. I turned my back toward her while I opened the box and pulled out some of the prints. I waited for the familiar pain of shock and sadness to hit. But it didn’t. I only felt pride as I pulled out each photo and held them reverently to Claire.

  Her mouth parted as she took them with equal gentleness. Her gaze flickered over every one, not rushing. Really seeing. “These are amazing.”

  “She was unbelievably talented.” I stepped back to give her space. I had seen all these photos a hundred times.

  “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of her. She could have had exhibits. I’ve worked with many photographers over the years and learned a little about the skills required to be good. Did she maybe go by another name?”

  “No. She never had success in that sense,” I said stiffly.

  “Why not?” she asked, appalled, and I narrowed my eyes. She closed her eyes with a frustrated huff of air. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. You can tell me as much or as little as you want.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t like to talk about it. She never wanted fame. She—” I skirted around the full truth by latching on to others. “She liked living here in Cozy Creek. She liked raising me. She said that was all she ever wanted.”

  “That’s lovely.” Claire smiled, her gaze drifting as she thought. After a moment, she went back to the photographs. A little crease formed between her brows before a massive smile split her face open. “I recognize these little guys.”

  I knew before I looked exactly what picture she had found. It was a picture of Pace and me. We were eight years old and had just come back from exploring in the woods. We were covered in dirt, jeans ripped, and hair a mess, but we wore the biggest grins you’d ever seen. Our front teeth were a little too big, with summer freckles on our noses as we slung arms around each other. I clearly remembered that moment, stepping out of the trees and onto the driveway. My mother’s face was obscured by the lens. I had rolled my eyes, but Pace was ready for his close-up. The lighting somehow looked ethereal and sentimental all at once.

  More than that, it was an incredible photograph. My mother deserved to have it all, and that choice was taken from her.

  I couldn’t talk about that with Claire yet. The rawness of being here, of our kiss, the day in town talking about Lily and seeing the pity, it was all catching up. I felt bone weary. I felt the darkness creeping in around the edges.

  “Thank you for sharing this with me,” Claire said.

  I nodded.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, carefully setting down the photos back into the box. “Is this too much?”

  “It’s a lot,” I said honestly.

  “Let’s leave it for now,” she said simply. She quickly flipped through a few more before gently lowering them back into the box. “Maybe, one day, you can show me the rest of the photos? I think I recognized some people from town.”

  I nodded and headed to the door. “You can come look at this stuff. I won’t lock it anymore.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  It hit me then. The real reason I wanted to show Claire this room. It was about sharing a part of myself, but it was also my way of showing myself the truth.

  When you fall for a woman, it’s going to hit you like a train.

  It had felt like a warning when my mother said it. I felt things too deep and wanted things too much. My mother always recognized my sensitive nature. I was sure I had inherited it from her. But where it made her patient with the world, understanding the ebb and flow of nature, it made me scared and hard. She said that the softest insides have to develop the strongest shells. It wasn’t easy to be an artist male with squishy insides who cried at movies and got goose bumps at musicals—yes, we watched musicals—living in a small town.

  She never made me feel bad about it. She tried to teach me the balance of it.

  Too soft and too hard for this world.

  This time, I heard Claire’s voice.

  “I just haven’t had the heart to clear this stuff out. Or see if this medical equipment could be donated. I keep meaning to,” I explained as we moved out of the room.

  “I understand. I was often told that there is no timeline for grief. It doesn’t just stop one day. That room can wait.” She reached for my hand and squeezed.

  We went silently back into the main area, but she didn’t let me go. She stepped closer. Questioning. I cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead. My heart raced, betraying my head. Or maybe the other way around.

  It would be so easy to kiss her. To peel off her clothes like I had before.

  I stepped forward to reach for her. I felt lighter having shared.

  “Thank you for sharing this with me,” she said. “Really. I feel honored.” She held my eyes for a beat and smiled wide.

  “Thank you for listening.” I wanted this woman. I wanted to share more with her. The day was catching up, but being with her didn’t drain me. It filled me up. I wanted to tell her that. I wanted to tell her so much more.

  “I know I’m just passing through and am practically a stranger. I understand now why having someone stay here would be so difficult.”

  Just passing through.

  I nodded at her feet. “Yeah. I just⁠—”

  “It’s okay. You made the rules very clear.” Her tone was light and understanding, but how could she think she was a stranger after I shared this with her? “You don’t have to explain,” she said honestly. “I know I’ve been a little pushy, but you’re a good man, Levi. I like spending time with you. I understand you have rules in place, but if you ever want to spend more time with me … if you get bored.” Her gaze met mine, pupils dark with subtext. “I’ll be here. In Little Cabin.”

  I swallowed with difficulty. There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted her. I had wanted her and thought about her every moment of every day, even when I told myself I wasn’t.

  Fuck the rules. They were in place to protect me, but now they were hurting me.

  “Having the rules is important to you?” I asked.

  “I like clear boundaries and expectations,” she said with a nod.

  Nothing about my feelings for her was clear. I would have probably followed that desire if I hadn’t started to develop feelings. I would have let myself get lost in her body as a distraction from the grief I was still processing in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to do in the past few years. But then, she enraptured me. She spoke in a way that made me anxious to hear what she’d come up with next. She had such a special way of seeing the world.

  I couldn’t take her up on her offer as much as I wanted to. I wasn’t content to only have her for a night or a few weeks while she was passing through town. If only I didn’t feel things so deeply, if only I was able to take things in stride like everybody else seemed to. But now, having kissed her and spent time with her, my meeting Claire felt monumental and crucial. Everything I thought I wanted and knew had changed.

  I didn’t want to know what these feelings for her were, or if I did, I wasn’t ready to admit them. It was like the empty shell I had been living in was now too small to contain everything I had experienced. I would never be able to squeeze myself back in now.

  No.

  I would have some self-control.

  For now, I would just avoid her and let things simmer before they boil over. My blood was too hot around her. My control was a hair trigger, and that kiss proved it. I didn’t want to give in and risk her thinking she wasn’t important to me. We were more than hookups based on spiked cider and “good vibes.”

  I waited too long to speak. She sighed and tossed her hands out to the side. We were walking to the front door. “It’s been a long day. You have shared a lot and been around a lot of people. You go get some rest,” she said.

  “Good night, Claire,” I said at the door.

  “Good night, Levi.” She hesitated, body tense, but didn’t move.

  Right when I was about to turn to leave, I bent to gently lift her chin. I kissed her forehead, brushing my thumb along the dimple that appeared. I searched her eyes, hoping the right answer would come to me, but I only found my feelings for her growing every second.

  I didn’t look back as I walked up to Big Cabin. I needed help from someone who could talk me through this.

  Chapter 19

  Claire

  After our toe-curling, panty-melting, incendiary make-out session, I decided that the only next right course of action was to fall into my next project. I’d made my intentions clear. It was up to him, but in the meantime, I needed to keep my mind occupied. And hands.

  The ball was in Levi’s court.

  Both balls. Heh.

  The strangest thing was happening to me. Since Levi’s first accidental brush, and especially since that kiss—though kiss falls short of describing the experience that was making out with Levi—I was lustful. Well and truly full of lust. I’d find myself daydreaming about the feel of the warm comfort of just riding in Levi’s truck and then suddenly imagined sliding across the seat to straddle him and kiss him senseless. Or I’d be thinking about his passion as he spoke of his work, that serious blaze in his eyes that matched the fire we’d been sitting in front of at the pumpkin measuring contest, and remember how good his lips tasted. I’d elaborate on my fantasy to run my hand up his thigh and test that hardness I had witnessed firsthand.

  My body was a live wire. My bras rubbed me in ways I wasn’t used to, and my hand drifted under the covers into my panties every night. But it wasn’t near enough. Like scratching an itch on a knuckle, it provided no relief. I was insatiable. I had never been this restless and wanting before in my life, and quite frankly, it was humiliating because now, more than ever, Levi finally seemed to be sticking to his rules. Picture my dramatic eye roll here. When I had mentioned the boundaries, I’d sort of hoped he’d dash them out the window and say fuck the rules, take off your shirt.

  But alas, he was well and truly a gentleman. And because I was leaving soon, it was best.

  I wasn’t sure about his hesitation. Was it some old-fashioned and misplaced sense of chivalry? Was it that maybe his body was into it, but the rest of him wasn’t? That made my stomach hurt, so I didn’t think about it. But what else could it be? It was times like these when I wished people could just have blunt conversations, but then I imagined his pity as he rejected me and the gurgle in my gut was back. Best not to think about that.

  This would be so much easier if he just listed out every single thought he had on the subject matter as he had in the listing.

  “Ugh,” I groaned.

  “Are you okay?” Levi asked from the driver’s seat.

  “Ah!” I jumped and gripped the door handle.

  He chuckled and looked over at me disbelievingly. “If I had a nickel every time I scared you by simply existing …”

  “Who carries change these days?”

  “Did you really forget I was here?”

  “Ha.” I chuckled good-naturedly. “No, of course not.” Honestly, yes. I was so lost in my thoughts I forgot he was right next to me, driving us to town. “Just thinking,” I added.

  “Anything you want to share with the class?” he asked in a gravelly growl.

  Why haven’t you kissed me since the pumpkin night last week? Why weren’t we locking lips with the little time I had left? Why won’t you show me to your aubergine room? I’d say that last one with bouncy, suggestive eyebrows. Why haven’t we updated the rules to include mild groping? After all, what’s a bit of friendly groping between neighbors?

  “No. Just thinking about my new story.” I settled on.

  I had made it clear that I was interested. Anything more would be pushy or clingy.

  He straightened. “Oh. Anything interesting?”

  I hadn’t told Levi at the time, but something about his mom’s art had rung a bell in my brain. In that way I hadn’t felt in a while. That incessant buzz of a new story taking wing and beating against the inside of my brain. He gave me full access to the formerly locked room. And what a room it was. The life of Lily Carmichael was remarkable.

  And so I chased the serotonin and lost myself to this new lead for the past few days. When he mentioned he had to go into town to meet Pace, I latched myself on to his plans in the hopes of searching the library for stories or chatting with some locals to get more information and maybe another story for the online journal I was still playing around with.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I said.

  He glanced over at me with a little bit of worry.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be the first to know when I’m hooked on something real.” I patted his shoulder. “Whether you want to or not,” I teased.

  He parked the truck behind the Cozy Creek B&B and hopped out. I knew the drill by now and waited for him to come around and assist me.

  A girl could really get used to this. “Thanks,” I said, smiling up at him and tucking a loose strand behind my ear as I looked up at him. I searched his hard-to-read expressions for any sign of thoughts of groping, friendly or otherwise.

  He swallowed audibly, squeezing my hand once before releasing me. Move over, Mr. Darcy and the hand flex. We had a new contender in town.

  “I shouldn’t be long helping Pace,” he said.

  “Honestly, take your time. I’ve been dying to check out Cozy Creek Confectionery ever since I had a caramel apple from them the night of the pumpkin fest.”

  “Just avoid the coffee,” he warned ominously. “Okay, I’ll come get you from there. I shouldn’t be more than an hour,” he said before he bent and kissed my cheek.

  Kissed. My. Cheek.

  Like we were a couple saying goodbye. We stared at each other for what was easily a millennium. His mouth and eyes were wide. Mine were probably the same.

  “Oh,” I said awkwardly and lifted a hand to my cheek. “That was nice.”

  “Sorry. That was—I didn’t mean⁠—”

  “It’s okay,” I said, even as my heart cartwheeled in my chest. I shook my head and began backing up, ready to turn away. “No biggie.”

  “Right.” He cleared his throat. “See ya.”

  “Yep,” I said in a voice a few octaves higher.

  It was far more innocent than our last kiss, but I found myself pressing a hand to my chest as I walked away, sucking in my lips to keep from smiling. I couldn’t help how charmed I was by the whole exchange.

  Forget groping; let’s get more slightly awkward but wholesome PDA.

  “Well, isn’t that a sight to see,” a woman’s voice said as I crossed over to the opposite street’s sidewalk.

  An older woman was sitting, one leg in a cast propped up on a chair outside Cozy Creek Confectionery.

  “That was—I think he just—We aren’t really—I don’t know what we are, to be frank,” I said. “Hi. I’m Claire Wells. I’m staying up at Levi’s place.”

  “I’m Gigi. This is my shop. I’m currently laid up, but my granddaughter is in town helping out.” She gestured a hand to where Levi had just kissed my cheek.

  Remember that? Remember how he kissed my cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world?

  “That’s none of my business, doll. I’m just happy to see Levi come down from that place and not all by himself. It is what Lily would have wanted.”

  “Were you friends with Lily Carmichael?” I asked as curiosity mobilized my feet in her direction.

  “I was. We all were,” she said with a smile.

  “Levi showed me some of her photos. I’d love to know more about her.”

  “Did he now? Well, well.” Her eyebrows lifted higher in surprise. “Why don’t you come in and tell us about it, and I’ll answer your questions about Lily.”

  Inside, I was introduced to Gigi’s granddaughter Madi, a stunningly gorgeous woman my age with perfectly manicured nails, highlighted hair, and designer clothes. I tried not to be hyper-aware of my oversized sweater, undone face, and hair in a messy bun, but there was no need to feel self-conscious. Both women welcomed me warmly, and we sat and chatted like instant new-old friends. We talked over each other, bouncing jokes and rapidly changing topics in the best way. And neither of them seemed to mind my stream of consciousness oversharing. They gave me several more story ideas for my online journal and the people I could talk to in town, and I was excited at that prospect. Not in the same way I felt about a new story but like a little sugary treat for my brain and the few regular readers I now had.

  It was nice to sit and chat with these women. It soothed a part of me that I didn’t know needed soothing. I loved my father, we were close as could be, but there must have been something on an evolutionary level that made sitting around chatting with these two feel so comforting, so natural.

  We talked about Lily and all she meant to the town and how devastating the loss was.

  “I still wish there was something we could do,” Gigi said. “But Levi won’t talk to anybody. He barely talks to Pace.”

  As they spoke, more information came to the surface about the less charming aspects of Lily’s past. Of course, there had been a man who had swept through town and broke her heart.

  At some point, I decided this was the sign I needed. I was eager to get back to Little Cabin and learn more. An idea was forming, and I needed focus and quiet.

 

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