Page 6

Chapter 6

Fleur

I n a blink of an eye. That’s how fast the next two weeks pass.

With Adam working on the kitchen renovation multiple days a week, along with weekends, I’ve spent ample time with him. And I don’t mind.

It’s amazing—the work he’s done in such a short few weeks. Although I’m pretty sure the farmhouse is his only job right now. Still, he’s put in long hours with me. The kitchen is almost finished, and last night we were able to enjoy a pepperoni pizza sitting on my new granite countertops. The white with speckled black stone complements the shaker-style cabinets painted in a soothing cream, and I couldn’t stop the giddy giggle that bubbled out of me when they were installed.

The asphalt driveway squeaks under my tires as I reverse out of the B from across the street that day.

Now is the time , I chide myself. Leave. Run. Go.

After what Adam mentioned about these people …

But my feet don’t move. Won’t move. The oddest desire to see his face up close glues me to the tiled floor, which I’ve come to realize is sky blue, cracked, and scuffed from the steady flow of town traffic.

I hug my purse to my chest as the man takes a few dollars to put into the tip jar.

It’s as if it happens in slow motion—which is unfair. He pivots, offering the older woman a faintly amused smile, his lips not fully stretching into one. Then he notices me, and any hint of a smile disappears along with my desire for coffee.

His nostrils flare as his eyes narrow on me, tracing around my face and glancing quickly down and back up my body again. Sunburst eyes meet mine, the hues of blue and greens mixing with the blackness growing in his gaze.

He stalks toward me—no, the door.

I move away, closer to the counter and toward the lifesaving caffeine.

His shoulder grazes mine as he passes, and I shudder out a sigh when the bell rings and the door slams shut.

As if on cue, the coffee shop comes alive again teeming with life like this strong storm of a man didn’t just blow in and destroy me in seconds. Who is he?

He’s one of them, you idiot.

The black vest, broody behavior, and the reaction from the locals in the shop all tell me the same thing. What it doesn’t tell me—I rub where his body collided with mine—is why my skin tingles even after he’s long gone.