Page 1 of Finding Home (Willow Valley #1)

ONE

EVERETT

W illow Valley is not the place I want to be right now, but the gorgeous girl on the other side of the bar has somehow captured my attention.

Her beautiful blonde hair cascades down her back in soft waves, and a smile lights up her face, pulling me in despite the fact that I should finish my beer and get the fuck out of here.

I need to get back to my motel room so I can be on the road early tomorrow morning.

Lila is waiting for me to pack up the house; I came here to scout a few places and find one for us to move into at the beginning of the month.

When the blonde looks my way, she smiles, and I’m surprised she doesn’t turn away when I scowl at her. I’ve been told that, on top of being an asshole, I look like one too. I can’t argue with that. Not much makes me smile now-a-days, save for Lila.

She nods at the bartender and makes her way to my table, placing her drink down before sliding in across from me. I raise a brow, as if to say what the fuck are you doing? She just smiles brightly and reaches across the table, offering her hand.

“My name’s Chloe!” she says brightly. “Are you passing through or new to town?”

She’s really fucking cheery and persistent, not leaving when I don’t shake her hand and don’t respond. After a beat, I sigh and say, “I leave tomorrow. ”

Her smile seems to brighten a little as she settles deeper into her seat. “And what brought you to Willow Valley?”

I’m not sure what about my fuck off attitude she isn’t getting, but something about her has me participating. “My grandmother lives in town.”

That perks her up. “Oh, how lovely! Who's your grandmother? I’m sure I know her. You can’t live in a town as small as Willow Valley and not know everyone.

Well, except maybe old Mr. Tom, who lives on the outskirts and keeps to himself.

The church women drop food off to him, and the containers disappear off his porch, so they assume he’s alive and eating it. ”

I nod, taking a sip of my beer, hoping she’ll go away. To my chagrin, she stares at me with a sweet smile and tilts her head a little, waiting for my answer. I allow the silence to stretch between us, but when she doesn't back down, I heave another deep sigh and say, “Delores Simpson.”

“Mrs. Simpson is the sweetest. My sister-in-law popped into her shop just a few weeks ago to grab some things while she was visiting from Vancouver.”

Vancouver. Now that’s a place I’d rather be right now, not this hole-in-the-wall town with only two places open after ten p.m. Vancouver is somewhere you can be anonymous. You can get lost in the hustle and bustle of the city, exactly what I like.

“How is your grandmother?” she asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

My grandmother is not something I want to talk about right now. She’s done her best to keep her declining health private from, in her words, the busybodies of the town.

In an effort to change the conversation, and maybe drive her away, I lean forward on my arms, my beer bottle between my hands as I stare at her intently. “Is getting into a stranger’s business a regular occurrence for you, or are you just bored on a Saturday night?”

That seems to deflate something in her, and for some reason, it makes me feel kind of like the asshole I’ve been accused of being so many times.

“We don’t get a lot of new people around here,” she says, the brightness in her voice almost gone. “I like to introduce myself and maybe share my love of our town with people.” Okay, I don’t kind of feel like an asshole. I feel like a full on one.

“Everett,” I say, and it adds a little bit of light to her eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Everett.”

I tip my chin at her. “And you, Chloe ? Why don’t you tell me some of your favourite things about Willow Valley?”

I don’t know why I ask, but that simple question seems to be all I needed to do to add that spark back into her face.

She animatedly tells me about the Sunday farmer’s markets and the town’s parade and all the community events for Canada Day.

The holiday was earlier this month, but the way she talks about it almost has me wanting to experience it too.

I listen as she talks, and the bartender delivers more drinks.

Before I know it, I’m a few beers deep and she’s a few cocktails in, and I find my eyes lingering on her lips as she talks.

Chloe has sucked me in so much over the little bit of time we've been talking.

I know shit like her favourite colour is yellow, her favourite season is spring, she's the youngest of two with an older brother who lives in Vancouver with his new wife.

I don't know these things about some of the people I'd call my closest friends, but I know it about this random girl. But the thing is, Chloe doesn't feel like some random girl, not really. I'm not a cheesy person at all, but something about her calls to me. It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman. I’ve always wanted to put Lila first. Having a kid rearranges your priorities, and things like sex tend to fall to the wayside, particularly if you aren’t in a relationship.

Chloe excitedly leans forward, her shirt gaping just enough that I get a good view of the tops of her breasts.

I can tell she’s wearing some sort of red lace bra.

Her arm slides to the side as she sits back, and her drink spills down the front of her shirt.

She shrieks, and I immediately reach for napkins, trying to help her.

When our fingers touch as she takes the napkins, something sparks in our slight contact.

I ignore it as the bartender comes out from behind the bar, handing Chloe a cloth.

She offers him a sweet smile as she tries to clean herself off.

“I guess I’m cut off for the night,” she muses .

“Probably,” I mumble under my breath, and she raises a brow at me but continues trying to clean herself off. She checks the time on her phone and sighs.

“Boyd," she calls to the bartender, and he turns to look at her. "You might want to put the coffee on. My parents are both bound to be in bed, and I’m not driving home like this.”

Does that mean she lives at home, or are they just her ride for when she drinks too much?

“One of the girls not able to pick you up?” Boyd asks, and she shakes her head.

“They’ve all got their own things.”

He nods. “I’ll put the coffee on.”

Before he can walk away, I find myself saying, “I’ll get her home.”

She’s not that drunk, and this town is small enough that I’m sure I could walk her home before heading to the motel. Nothing is that far in this place.

He gives her a look, silently asking her if she’s okay with it, and when she smiles at me, he heads back to the bar, returning with our bills.

We settle up, and Chloe slides out of the booth.

She doesn’t stumble or fall, a sign that even though she shouldn’t drive, she’s pretty sober.

I make my way to the door and hold it open for her, and we step into the warm summer air.

It’s the end of July, and we’re about to hit the peak heat of the summer.

The wildfires haven’t been too bad this year, but they can pop up at any time, either from humans not being safe or natural occurrences like lightning.

Even though it’s cooled down a bit tonight, it’s muggy and I’m sure a walk will have my shirt sticking my to skin. Chloe heads in the direction I’m assuming leads to her place.

I don’t know why I offered to walk her home.

I need to sleep off those beers before hitting the road, but something about the thought of her sitting in that bar, drinking coffee while men drank and gawked at her, didn’t sit well with me.

I’m not sure if she even noticed all the men who couldn’t take their eyes off her tonight, but I sure as fuck did.

A few even had the stones to glower my way as she smiled at me.

That almost had me smiling back, and it was weird.

I don't smile unless it's at my daughter. This woman sucks up the miserable energy in a room and replaces it with happiness, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m a creature of habit.

I like my routines, for things to stay the way they are.

I’m not looking forward to this move as it is.

I don’t need anything else in my life changing.

"Thank you for walking me home," she says beside me.

I grunt in response, but it doesn't deter her from continuing.

"It's been drilled into my head for years that even though we live in such a small town, I should never walk home alone, even if it's only fifteen minutes," she says with a half laugh.

Whoever told her that is right. You hear the same horror stories of the things that can happen to a woman walking alone at night no matter where you are, but it hits differently in a small town. Everyone thinks they're safe until they're not.

I watch as she tips her head back, stopping as she stares up at the night sky. "I missed this," she says wistfully.

I stop beside her, close enough that our arms almost brush. I feel a spark go through me as I look up at the sky too. There are stars as far as the eye can see, and it hits me that I was probably a kid the last time I saw them. Living in the city surrounded by lights makes it impossible now.

She leans closer, our arms brushing; I hear her intake of breath, but she doesn't move. She continues to stare up at the sky as if my body doesn't feel like it's on fire from the simple brush of her skin against mine.

"This is one of the things I missed when I left for school," she whispers, so quietly, I almost miss it. She gives her head an almost imperceptible shake before she continues walking, turning her smile to me as she asks, "So, where are you from?"

I don’t know why I want to talk to Chloe. For years, I’ve avoided any conversation with people, especially small talk with strangers, but there’s something about her that has me not minding it. That has me wanting to answer her question.

"All over," I say, and she raises a brow. I grip the back of my neck. "My parents had us moving all over the place, so I’ve never really had one place to call home." I hate talking about my parents. I’m surprised she managed to get that much out of me.

Chloe must be great at reading people, because she doesn’t push it any further, doesn’t ask questions.

She just lets us walk the rest of the way to her place in silence.

Her fingers slightly brush against mine as we walk, and I watch as she gnaws on her bottom lip.

An almost imperceptible trace of pink dusts her cheeks, and I want to know what she's thinking.

She lives right on the edge of Willow Lake, above what looks like the local coffee shop. Chloe unlocks a door on the side of the building, revealing a staircase, and I follow her up, watching as she unlocks the door at the top before facing me.

She releases her lip from between her teeth before nodding slightly, as if she was pondering something and came to a decision.

She reaches behind her and opens the door as her eyes meet mine, and she slowly backs in.

She drops her bag on the floor, and as I open my mouth to wish her goodnight, her hands find the hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it up her body, exposing her taught stomach, then her bra. I was right—it’s lace.

My mouth has suddenly gone dry as I take her in.

She’s standing so confidently before me as her hands find the button of her shorts and flick it open.

I should turn around and rush down those stairs, get the fuck out of here, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

Her skin is flawless, save for a small scar over her right hipbone.

She shoves her shorts to the floor and steps out of them. I can’t take my eyes off her.

"You gonna stand there, or are you going to come in and maybe help me out of the rest of this?" she asks, eyebrow raised.

As much as I know I shouldn’t, I step inside the door, kicking it closed and stalking towards her. I watch her pulse pick up in her neck with each step I take.

She’s not short, only about six inches shorter than my six-foot-three, but standing toe to toe with her, she has to tip her head back to meet my eyes.

As she does, heat flashes in hers, likely matching my own.

I’ve always had a thing for confident women, and even though I’ve avoided them for the last five years, there’s no way I can walk away from Chloe right now.

Holding eye contact with her, I reach back and, with one hand, pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the side. Her eyes leave mine, and she takes her time roving them over my chest and stomach. I’m a firefighter, I’m fit, but the way she does it adds something to my confidence.

Once she’s gotten her fill, my finger finds the underside of her chin and forces her eyes to mine.

"How do you want this?" I ask, my voice coming out gruff.

She licks her lips, and my eyes track the movement.

"Rough," she whispers, and my thumb moves to her chin. I tighten my grip, and her eyes widen with arousal that goes straight to my dick.

"Are you sure?"

She nods, and that’s all I need. My hands find the backs of her thighs, and her legs wrap around my waist. Her apartment is a studio, so I walk us over to her bed off to the side, dropping her on the end of it. I lower myself to my knees between her spread legs.

"You’re fucking gorgeous," I say as she props herself up on her elbows and watches me.

The way she looks at me has me thinking that tonight could be life changing.