Page 3

Chapter Three

The morning sunlight streamed through my open windows, illuminating dozens of half-opened boxes scattered across the living room floor. After I’d gotten back home, I’d spent most of the night in a fog after my strange encounter in the woods.

I’d slept on the couch and gotten up in the middle of the night several times to make sure the door had been locked. Today, though, was about making this house feel like mine. I wasn’t going to let that brute scare me off from… from whatever he was trying to scare me away from.

I sliced open another cardboard box and started unpacking the mismatched mugs I’d collected over the years. The kitchen was small but functional, with outdated appliances, but the size wasn’t much different from what I was used to back in the city. I arranged my sparse collection of pots and pans, wondering if I’d actually use them more often now that I wasn’t working fourteen-hour days.

“Ugh,” I groaned, rubbing my back as I moved to the next box.

I placed books on the shelves, pillows on the couch, and then arranged the small collection of framed photographs on the end tables. There was a picture of me and my mom on one of her good days, and another of me and Annie.

I hung my favorite painting — a stormy lake scene — above the fireplace, then stood back to assess. Not bad. This place could actually feel like home.

Hours passed in a blur of box cutting, unwrapping, and arranging. I lost myself in the methodical work, pretending I didn’t keep replaying the argument over and over in my head. At least the physical labor was somehow more satisfying than anything I’d accomplished in my glass-walled downtown Chicago office.

When I finally paused, muscles aching, I glanced at my phone to check the time. Nearly four in the afternoon.

My stomach let out an angry growl, and I pressed a hand to it in an attempt to silence it. I hadn’t eaten anything since the toaster pastry I’d scarfed down with my morning coffee. I rubbed my temples, trying to think through the hunger-induced headache that had crept up on me.

“Ugh, must eat,” I muttered to myself as I walked to the fridge and pulled the door open. The empty white interior looked back at me, reminding me I needed to add the grocery store to my to-do list. “Shit.”

I grabbed my purse and keys, giving myself a quick look in the mirror. My hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, but I decided it was good enough. It wasn’t like I’d moved here to impress anyone.

Birchwood Hollow’s main street was exactly what you’d expect from a small town — charming storefronts with hand-painted signs, diagonal parking spots, and flower pots with white and purple carnations at every corner.

I pulled my SUV into one of the many spots out front of May’s Diner. Even though it was getting close to dinnertime, it wasn’t very busy.

The bell above the door jingled as I entered. A couple of older men at the counter turned but quickly went back to their food when they realized it wasn’t anyone they knew.

A waitress in her late fifties gestured at the booths. “Sit wherever you like, honey. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” I said, picking a booth at the far end.

In less than a minute, she was back with a pot of coffee and a menu. “I’m Sheila, and I’ll be helping you today. Well, really, it’ll be me pretty much anytime you stop in unless Tonya is covering me. Anyway, coffee?”

“Please,” I said, flipping my mug over.

“You’re new here,” Sheila said, her nearly white curly hair bouncing as she shifted her weight.

It wasn’t a question. I smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

“It’s a small town, honey. We notice new faces.” She tapped her pen against her order pad. “You need a minute?”

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, opening the menu to an endless array of options. “What do you recommend?”

Sheila tapped her pen to her chin. “Cheeseburger and fries.”

“Sounds perfect,” I said, watching as she scribbled on her pad. “Actually, I was wondering… are you hiring? Or do you happen to know of any places in town that might be?”

Sheila tilted her head. “We’re not, but Black Construction was looking for a receptionist a couple of weeks back. Not sure if they filled the position or not.”

“Excellent,” I said, turning to the window. “And where is that?”

Sheila laughed. “You can find anything here with just a little wandering.”

Boy, was she right about that.

“But it’s just down the street,” she said, pointing out the window with her pen.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem, hon. I’ll get your order in.”

When my food arrived, I realized just how hungry I was. The burger was thick and juicy, and the hand-cut fries were crispy perfection. I practically inhaled everything on my plate, barely coming up for air.

I looked up, my eyes meeting with a man two booths over. I picked up my napkin and wiped my mouth, hoping I’d be able to remove the redness from my cheeks as well.

“Haven’t eaten all day,” I said, setting the napkin on my empty plate.

“Been there,” he said, smiling. “And they make one hell of a burger here, too.”

I nodded. “You can say that again, but to be fair, I was so hungry that green beans would have tasted good.”

“Ew,” he said, his nose wrinkling. “There isn’t anything they can do to green beans to make them good.”

“Butter?”

“Nope.”

I cocked my brow. “Are you one of those guys who won’t eat vegetables?”

“I’ll eat broccoli,” he said, smiling. “Oh, and carrots, but not if they’re cooked.”

“Picky,” I said, clicking my tongue.

“Indeed,” he said, folding his hands. “You just passing through?”

I shook my head. “I bought what everyone is calling Old Man Harrison’s place.”

“Oh,” he said, head bobbing. “Nice.”

“It’s cozy.”

The man with neatly cut light brown hair smiled again. He appeared to be in his early thirties, and when he smiled, his teeth were perfect and white enough to light the room.

“Where are my manners?” he asked, getting to his feet. He walked over to me and stuck out his hand. “Dean Quinn, the town’s one and only dentist.”

I shook his hand. “Everly Montana.”

“Excellent to meet you,” he said, flashing me his brilliant smile again. “That’s a nice property out there, but the woods can be a bit scary at night. Make sure you keep your doors locked and your shades drawn.”

My shoulders involuntarily tensed as the memories of last night’s encounter flashed in my mind. “Did I move to the wrong place? I was hoping for something quiet and safe.”

“Oh, dang, sorry. Not at all,” Dean said with a gentle laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I wasn’t trying to scare you or anything. Just wanted to make sure you stay safe. The local teens can get into all sorts of rowdy trouble out by the lake.”

“Is that right?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Drinking in the woods, playing pranks… that sort of thing.”

I relaxed slightly. “I’m not too worried about wild teenager shenanigans.” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “Once upon a time, I was one myself.”

That made him laugh again, a genuine sound that made me smile in return. The waitress brought over a cup of coffee in a to-go cup.

Sheila looked from Dean to me and back to him. “I see you’ve met the young lady who moved into?—”

“Yeah,” Dean said, taking a sip and pulling his lips away from the cup. “Hot.” His cheeks turned pink. “The coffee.” He glanced at his wrist, where a watch may or may not have been. “I need to get to work. It was nice meeting you, Everly. Welcome to Birchwood Hollow.”

“Thanks.”

The bell jingled, and he was outside before I could tell him it was nice meeting him, too… or ask if he knew where I could find a job.

“He’s a sweetheart,” Sheila said, winking. “If I weren’t married, he’d be at the top of my list.” She laughed and held up her left hand. “But I am married, so I guess he’s available.”

“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head as I waved my hands in the air. I’d seen that look before. It wasn’t that long ago Annie wore that expression when she wanted to set me up with some guy from her office. “I’m not interested. I’m here to get away from all that.”

“Away from all what?” Sheila asked, pressing her lips together as she crossed her arms.

I bit my lip. “Relationships. Dating. All of it. I’ve never been very good at that stuff.”

“I see,” Sheila said, ripping my check from the pad of paper. “I think you just haven’t met the right person.”

“That’s obviously true, but in my experience, people always want something from you, and love is just the bait they use to take it,” I said, taking the check from her. “I know that sounds horrible, but I just really need a break from all that bullshit. One too many horrible relationships. You know how it is, right?”

Sheila shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t. I’ve been married thirty years to the sweetest man. Sure, he leaves his clothes on the floor, but he takes good care of me and makes me laugh.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” I said, clearing my throat. “Where do I pay?”

“This way,” Sheila said.

I paid my check at the counter and thanked Sheila for the meal and the job lead before heading back to my SUV. The late afternoon sun was turning golden as I slid behind the wheel.

I drove slowly down the main street, scanning the storefronts for Black Construction. Sure enough, just as Sheila had mentioned, I spotted it several blocks down, near the end of the busy street.

It was a weathered building with a faded sign and dusty windows. It wasn’t exactly the picture of a thriving business, but then again, none of the businesses in town looked like they were raking in the big bucks.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, revealing an empty reception area with buzzing lighting. Blueprints were scattered across the counter, and the air smelled of sawdust and coffee.

“Hello?” I called, approaching the desk with a little bell.

Before I could tap the little button, footsteps boomed from the open office just behind the desk. A man stepped out, wiping his hands on a shop rag as he looked up.

It was him. The man from the woods. Oh, fuck.