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MARIAH

W hen it rains nonstop for days, the last thing anyone wants is ice cream. But every few hours, someone braves the elements for delicious scoops of whatever my flavor of the day is. Unfortunately, the lights flickering warn me that the power is more likely to go out than another customer showing up for a creamy treat.

The storm is worsening, forcing me to close up earlier than I want. The stores around me have their gates drawn and windows shuttered. I don't want any damage to come to my ice cream parlor. It's best to get my generator up and running to keep my freezers running through the stormy night. Once I finish that, I'll follow suit in pulling down the gates to at least block the heavy winds from blowing anything through the shop's windows.

After several minutes of grunting and dragging my generator out of the storage closet, I manage to connect my appliances. However, the chimes ringing above the entryway startle me.

"Fuck," I whisper to myself. "I forgot to lock the front."

The wind blows the rain in varying directions as someone battles against it to keep my door open. My neck twists and cranes to get a glimpse between the crack of swinging doors that separate the kitchen from the front of the parlor.

Bright white lights hover over several four-top tables around the dining area of my shop. While I specialize in ice cream, I keep a few pastries and other dessert options to pair with my best-selling flavors.

Heavy winds push rain, leaves, and dirt onto my black and white tiled floors, along with two soaking-wet strangers. I take one last look around the kitchen before pushing through the swinging double doors to greet them.

"Hello?" A deeply masculine voice calls from just inside the doorway. His lips press into a thin line as soft brown eyes scan the surroundings.

There's another much younger, feminine voice whispering beside him. "See? I told you there wasn't anyone in here, Dad. No one wants ice cream on a day like this."

"Frankie, the door wouldn't be unlocked if there wasn't anyone here. Now, just sit tight." The man huffs as his wet footsteps approach the counter.

"Evening," I say with a smile. "It's kind of crazy out there. How can I help you?"

The smoldering scowl on this man’s face is attractive and menacing. I sense he’s more annoyed than dangerous, especially when I glance over his shoulder at the shivering little girl behind him. She has the same scowling brown eyes, so there’s no mistaking that they’re father and daughter.

His face is ripe with frustration as he says, "We just drove all the way from Whitewater Forest. The campgrounds are flooded out there?—"

"Because someone didn't even check the weather before dragging us out there," the little girl chides from behind him.

"That's enough, Francesca," her father replies sternly, forcing her to press her lips together. He returns his gaze to me. "I apologize for busting in here, but my car's making a noise. I think it just needs some oil, but I don't want to risk driving it back to Cincinnati like this. I don't want to be stranded with my daughter."

"I understand," I tell him.

For the first time since he approached the counter, his eyes soften as he looks at me. The feeling is mutual because his chiseled jaw and broad shoulders have my libido spiking like never before. I have to calm myself down, but I still can't help but toss my dark blonde hair over my shoulder, hopefully with a flirtatious glint in my eyes.

Thunder booms and lightning crashes, shaking the building and sending the man's daughter scurrying into his side. He instinctively wraps his arms around her and brings me back to reality, where I shouldn't flirt with this man in distress—a father just wanting to keep his daughter out of the rain.

"I'm Mariah Monroe. This is my shop, and while this may sound a bit out of left field, I have plans on staying at a cabin not too far from here. You two are more than welcome to join me. All the shops and businesses are closed up until tomorrow or at least until these storms pass."

"Miss Monroe?—"

"Please. You can call me Rye."

He smiles with a gentle nod. "Rye, thank you for your kindness. I don't want to put you out. Is there a hotel or something nearby? I haven't been through Mercy in forever. I thought they would have upgraded this town a bit by now. "

"Unfortunately, not. My sister's got a place that she turned into a retreat. That's about as close to a motel as this town's going to get."

A gruff exhale pushes out of his nostrils. "Any vacancies?”

"Not quite. As luck has it, she wanted me to test out the new cabins she put on the property. She didn't think the storms would roll in this fast. That's about the only place where you could book a room of any kind."

He grunts. "You said she's testing the cabins out?"

"Yeah, it's like a soft opening to see how customers would use them and how they last through a short stay. The storms actually come in handy as she gets to see how the new construction stands up to the weather. You guys are more than welcome to come with me. We can hunker down until the morning."

"Dad, let's just go. I don't want to sleep in the car," the little girl moans against him. She turns to look around the shop, and her brows knit together as she peers inside the display case. "Did you make all of these?"

"Sure did. Go on and pick out a few flavors. Once you're both warm and I get some food in ya, we'll have dessert." I glance at her father, who nods with approval.

"Is that peach cobbler ice cream? And apple pie?" Her eyes squint with curiosity as she looks from one flavor to the next.

My eyes close as I tell her about one of my favorite flavors. "Yes, ma'am. The peach cobbler ice cream is actually a roasted peach ice cream with a caramel streusel swirl that has actual chunks of peach cobbler folded into it."

"What about the apple pie?" the dad asks, his gaze equally stoic as his daughter’s.

A moan escapes my throat as if I can taste it coming off the spoon. My eyes close just thinking about another one of my favorite concoctions. "That is a cinnamon graham cracker ice cream with apple pie filling swirls and little chunks of salted buttery pie crust. It's a customer favorite."

"I'm Dallas, by the way." He extends a wet hand but quickly offers me a grin before pulling back his soggy sleeves that drip drops of rain onto the counter. "Sorry about that, but yeah, I was saying I'm Dallas Kincaid, and this is my daughter, Francesca."

"I like Frankie better," she replies with a huff. "Why do you have so many flavors?"

She steps away from her dad, forgetting about the storm outside as she slinks from one display case to the next.

"There's only about fifteen flavors. I like to keep things simple," I tell them with a chuckle. I remember the onslaught of preteen snark from my youth, but Frankie's keeping it mild. I'm certain the distinct look of faux indifference is her default, but with every longing glance, her smile widens just a smidge.

My voice draws her softening gaze to me as I say, "Besides, fifteen is a number just high enough to keep customers coming back. Everyone wants to try a new flavor or a flavor they haven't eaten in a while. How about you choose a few flavors to take to the cabin?"

I can tell she's having a hard time from the way her eyes dart back and forth to multiple tubs.

"How about this? Let's do a baker's dozen," I tell them both with a raise of my eyebrows.

"What's that?" Frankie asks.

I grin and lean forward to point at the different buckets under the curved glass. "It's like a sample tray. You get two scoops of whatever flavors you want. It's like picking out your favorite donuts. But with a baker's dozen, you actually get 13 cups. Sometimes, the customers will let me pick a surprise flavor for the 13th cup."

"How much?" Dallas asks abruptly.

"This is free of charge," I tell him with a shrug. "I was going to bring some with me to pig out and watch movies later. It's going to be way better to share what I already planned to bring. What do you guys say?"

"Come on, Dad, please?" she begs. "You pick six. Then I can pick six, and Miss Rye can pick the last one. Maybe we can even smoosh them all together to make a milkshake."

"That sounds like a lot of sugar," he grumbles.

In a moment to ease his hesitation, I offer a solution. "All the cups come in resealable cardboard containers. You don't have to eat a ton of ice cream in one sitting. You can save some for tomorrow?—"

This time, Frankie interjects, "And then help save the planet by recycling."

"Exactly, Frankie." I give her a nod and a wink.

He runs his fingers through his soaking-wet brown hair. "Okay, but we really should find a place to grab something to eat first. No ice cream until after dinner, Frankie."

Frankie rolls her eyes, but there's no room for debate. With everything all set, I close the shop while Dallas and Frankie grab their stuff from their car. It doesn't take long to drive out to the old Garrett farm. It's where my sister, Maddie, dedicates every waking hour, turning the place into some sort of creative artist retreat destination.

The main house and barn serve as a bed-and-breakfast and an event venue. Smaller cabins are spread out across the property. There are four right now, but none of them are actually close to any other cabin. Rain beats down on the lush acres of fresh-cut grass as we drive to my reserved cabin. The sound of my keys jingling around my finger echoes between the beats of the storm as I lead Dallas and Frankie inside.

It's one of the biggest cabins on the property, and I knew I wanted to stay here when Maddie offered to have me test it out. There are two bedrooms, two bathrooms, an office, a living room, and a kitchenette. There's also a porch swing that lets you sit outside to watch the sun setting beneath the horizon. However, on a stormy night like this, it's best to stay inside by the fireplace.

"Let's get you guys settled, and then I'll head into the main house, where I'm sure there's plenty of food I can bring back here."

After showing them around and setting them up with clean linens to get comfortable, I jog to the main house as the rain slows down. As soon as I step inside, I see my sister mopping the floors.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"I didn't shut that door, and the wind blew in a bunch of water. It doesn't make sense to get housekeeping when I'm right here," Maddie says.

"Is there any food left?" I ask as I make my way toward the large kitchen. It's beautiful, with white subway tiles, cherry wood cabinets, and a butcher block countertop.

"There's plenty, Rye. Actually, you can take most of it home with you if you want. Mackenna can't come because of something that broke at the bar. Dad's stuck at the office. Chase will stay here with me and the staff, but the other guests didn't want to chance coming out here in the storm. I really want to get those new roads done soon," she mumbles to herself.

I shrug and make my way into the kitchen, where I pile some food into takeaway containers. I'm not sure what Dallas and his daughter eat, but I think a little bit of everything should do the trick.

"Are you feeding a small army?" Maddie asks with a chuckle.

"No, just a small family. A guy and his daughter got stranded by my shop in town. There's something wrong with their car," I tell her with a mild rise and fall of my shoulders. "Since you gave me the big cabin, I told them they could crash there, and then tomorrow, I'll help them get back on the road."

"Gave you the big cabin ? " she asks, her tone dripping in sarcasm.

I snicker. "I know. You caved into my baby sister vibes to show everyone that you love me the most, and so far, I love the place. It holds a family of three very well."

Maddie shakes her head and grins. "You're such a brat. But yes, I actually do value your opinion since you and Dad have different points of view on customer service. So, thank you for still coming even though it's raining cats and dogs out there. Oh, and I can have Chase take a look at their car in the morning."

"That's perfect. Thanks, Maddie."

"Any time. I can also have Chase come by the cabin to check on you too, tonight."

I grin. "That's fine. It'll be nice to let them know that I have people in my corner in case they turn out to be crazed aliens looking to abduct me."

"Abduction is not funny, Rye," she says flatly.

"Lighten up, Maddie. It's a joke, or did you purposely ignore the part I said about aliens? I'm going to head back before the storm starts raging again. Make sure to close this door behind me. Thanks for the food." I blow her a kiss as I dash from the main house back to the cabin.

Sounds of conversation waft through the door as I walk inside. The television above the fireplace is on, playing a movie I haven't seen since I was a kid. Frankie's sitting in a pair of pink pajamas on the sofa and laughing at the screen.

"Have you seen this movie, Miss Rye?"

"I haven't seen that movie since I was probably around your age," I tell her.

Her snark from earlier is gone, most likely due to getting out of rain-soaked clothes. She looks cozy under a blanket and snacking on popcorn while she talks about the movie. "I like it whenever the twins switch places to confuse their parents. The mom and dad fall in love. Did you know that it's one girl playing both parts? Not like the other one Dad showed me where they used actual twins."

"Do you like that movie better than this one?"

She shrugs. "A little bit. I like to see if I can pick out which twin is Mary-Kate and which one is Ashley."

"That sounds like a fun game to play. How about we watch that after I finish putting dinner together?"

"That's a great idea. I don't think Dad's watched either one in a long time, either. So what is for dinner?" She stops the movie to join me in the kitchen.

"I have some chicken tenders, french fries, a garden salad, baked salmon, rice, broccoli, and roasted chicken. Do you know what you'd like?"

"I'll have the baked salmon, rice, and broccoli. You should give Dad the chicken fingers." She laughs.

"I think he needs a bit more food than that, but I have enough for all of us to have some of everything. I don't meet too many kids who like salmon."

"I'm not a kid. I'm almost a teenager. I'll be ten next month."

"Wow, double digits, huh? You're almost as old as me."

She laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. We continue to put the dinner together as Dallas comes downstairs. I spot him just watching us silently. An indiscernible expression rides his face, but there's a softness in his eyes that wasn't there earlier.

He doesn't linger too long as he comes to help us set the food up in the living room. The fireplace is roaring, toasty with heat, even though the flames are fake. The movie is playing, and we're sitting around the coffee table like this is our typical family dinner routine. It's crazy how comfortable and effortless this feels. I look at them both and wonder if there's anyone in Cincinnati who takes care of them.