Page 10 of Love Songs (Harmony Lake #3)

She gave me a once over, and her smile widened. “And this must be your bachelor auction date.”

“He is,” Conor replied with a cheeky grin. “This is Dallas Blade. Dallas, this is Mrs. Caldwell. Her family owns the maple farm. The Caldwells founded the town, too.”

“Oh, I can’t take credit for that,” Mrs. Caldwell rebuffed with a wave. “I married into the Caldwells.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand.

“And you,” she replied, and then to Conor asked, “Are you going to show him around?”

“Yep. I’ll take him on a private tour.” Conor looked over at me with a coy smile that I suddenly wanted to see more of. “I’ve spent so much time here over the years that I know the place like the back of my hand.”

“Sounds good,” I said, holding his gaze while the temperature rose. Or maybe that was just me, because I was imaging all the private things he could show me.

Mrs. Caldwell beamed, and I hoped she couldn’t read minds. “Don’t forget my maple ice cream before you go home.”

“I would never,” Conor gasped, placing a hand over his chest.

She patted his arm. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”

“Hey,” a voice called, coming up behind them. “I thought I was your favorite.”

“You’re all my favorite,” Mrs. Caldwell said with affection as she pulled a brightly dressed man with a shock of dark, messy curls on his head into a hug.

The newcomer harrumphed but seemed appeased as his big blue eyes landed on me.

“I’ll leave you boys to it,” Mrs. Caldwell said, and the man, who I had a feeling was a real firecracker, turned fully toward me expectantly.

Conor groaned and waved a hand toward him. “Dallas meet Haider, one of the troublemakers I was telling you about.” Then he narrowed his eyes at Haider. “What are you doing here?”

“Moi?” Haider said far too innocently, his eyebrows raised. “I only stopped by to get some syrup for a new confectionary creation.”

“Ha-ha,” Conor intoned and then addressed me. “Haider owns Harmony Chocolates. Best truffles in the county.”

“Best truffles in the world, you mean,” Haider corrected, propping a hand on his hip and nodding his head to make the point.

I chuckled at their antics. Haider was cute, and the interaction between these two lifelong friends charmed me.

“Are the rest of the jokers going to unexpectedly drop in, too?” Conor asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” Haider said with a cheeky grin before turning on his heel. “Have a fun date.”

“Well,” Conor said as Haider sashayed away. “Shall we?”

Like any good host, Conor shared the history of the farm as he led me through the sugar shack and loosely explained the process of sugaring.

We passed several displays of unique farm art, including a few wood carvings of life-sized aliens with elongated bodies and big heads.

But instead of being scary, they all had a welcoming feeling with their cute little smiles.

“One of my best friends carved those,” Conor said as he motioned toward the wooden aliens.

“Who doesn’t love a friendly alien,” I said with a grin, and wondered if his friend carved smaller ones. Jaylin would get a kick out of them. “He’s talented.”

Conor nodded with a soft lift to his lips and carried on with my tour.

“You’re good at this,” I said, taking in the sights as we ambled along. “Did you work here growing up?”

“No, but we all help during sugaring season,” he said. “Takes a lot of work to make syrup.”

Leaving the alien art behind, we followed an easy trail that meandered through a forest of tall maple trees, their verdant leaves twisting and fluttering on a sweet, faintly vanilla-scented breeze.

“The air smells sweet,” I said, looking up at the sunlight filtering through the forest canopy.

“That’s the trees,” Conor said. “Their scents are strongest in spring and fall, and the harder the maple the sweeter the aroma.”

“Huh.”

“I’ve never seen you perform live before,” Conor said after a few minutes of walking in companionable silence. “But I thought your voice sounded different.”

I winced. Not my favorite topic.

“It is. I had vocal surgery recently,” I said, and of course, now that I was thinking about it, my throat felt tight. “For the second time.”

“Twice?” Conor turned to me with genuine concern in his eyes. “Is it serious? Are you losing your voice?”

My chest tightened. That right there was my greatest fear. Right out in the open.

“No, I’m not going to lose my voice,” I said, more to convince myself than to assure Conor. “But I don’t know how extensive the damage to my upper range is. That’s why we did the Founders Day show. A small audience to test out how my voice is going perform.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I like the deeper raspy sound,” Conor said, holding my gaze with his piercing eyes. “It’s soulful.”

I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him. I felt like some sort of magnetic energy buzzed in the space between us, drawing us together and locking us into place. Until I stumbled on the well-groomed trail.

Conor reached out and grabbed my arm to support me, sending firebombs blasting through my veins. Heat rushed up my neck and flooded into my cheeks.

“You okay?” he asked, his hand slowly sliding away as I regained my balance.

“Just a couple of left feet,” I joked, drawing a boyish grin from him that warmed my cheeks for another reason. I cleared my throat. “So, uh. What’s next?”

The strained sound of my voice now had nothing to do with my vocal cords and everything to do with the man at my side.

“Now we check out the sugar store, and then we go for lunch.”

We fell into easy conversation on the way back, as Conor shared stories of growing up in Caldwell Crossing and jumping off cliffs into Harmony Lake, and I shared some of the many adventures I’d had over the years touring around the country and abroad.

As we talked, a pulling sensation grew inside me, growing larger, tugging harder, until I could identify what the feeling was: longing.

Conor had had an idyllic childhood, and while mine wasn’t awful, my biological parents had disowned me.

That had been a hard time, but thankfully, Kirk’s family had been there for me.

I don’t know what I’d have done, or where I’d be today without them.

“So,” I said when we wandered into the Sugarworks Store and a comforting sugary-sweet aroma wrapped around me like an old blanket. I wanted to know everything about Conor Holliston. “You’ve lived here your whole life then?”

The smile that tugged at Conor’s mouth was wistful and his gaze went distant for a second as he led me deeper into the store, which overflowed with every imaginable maple syrup concoction, along with an eclectic collection of maple-themed knickknacks.

“Can’t imagine a better place to grow up,” he said with a fondness in his voice that made me smile. “My family all live here or nearby, and I have the best friends anyone could ask for.”

The sale flyer for the lakeside house popped into my mind again. Could Caldwell Crossing be the right place for me and Jaylin to live? Somewhere she could grow up safe and carefree and with lifelong friends like Conor had.

“Do you have a big family?” I asked, picking up a package of maple spice cookies I knew Jaylin would love.

“Three sisters.” Conor laughed, absently running a finger over a soft-looking plushie of a moose wearing a red bandana with the Stonebridge Maple Farm logo on it.

I dropped the moose into my basket as I followed him down the aisle.

“My oldest sister, Emma, is a doctor in town. Hazel is the second oldest. She works in marketing and lives about an hour away in Lebanon. Juno is my younger sister and she’s also a firefighter stationed down in Grantham.

My folks live in town. Same house I grew up in. ”

“Two firefighters in the family,” I whistled, adding some maple shaker meat rubs to my growing basket of everything maple.

“I think the two of us are responsible for my parents’ premature gray hair,” Conor paused and cocked his head in thought for a second. “Actually, I’m probably responsible for most of that all on my own.”

“Bit of a terror growing up, were you?”

“Let’s just say, I like a bit of an adrenaline rush from time to time.”

What he must have been like growing up, I mused to myself as we made our way to the checkout counter with my near-overfull basket. I got the meat rubs, three kinds of syrup, and the cookies and moose plushie for Jaylin.

Conor glanced over my shoulder and narrowed his eyes. I turned around to see three men a couple of aisles over, all quickly looking away at having been caught watching us. They stared intensely at a display of maple syrup, but one of them looked like he might be holding back laughter.

“Your friends, I take it,” I said, motioning toward them with my free hand.

“I’m so sorry,” Conor said with a huff. “I swear, sometimes I don’t think any of us evolved past high school.”

I shrugged. “It’s nice. They want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not the one they should worry about,” Conor said loud enough for his voice to carry.

“Oh-oh, we’re in for it now,” I overhead one of the guys joke.

“Come on,” Conor said with a sigh, after I paid for my purchases. “You might as well meet them, or they won’t leave us alone.”

The trio gave up their shopping ruse as we approached, grinning as Conor made introductions.

I met Ryan, with wavy brown hair, a stubbled jaw, and strong shoulders; Sam, who was the tallest of the three, wearing a plaid shirt and a serious expression; and Sam’s boyfriend Ben, who had light brown hair and while he was dressed casually, he had a big dog energy about him.

“Ryan is the one who carved the aliens,” Conor boasted, with a note of pride in his deep, honeyed voice.

A light blush crested high on Ryan’s cheeks, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Wow. I love that you made them cute when they could have been scary,” I said, the praise coming easy because they were amazing. “Any chance you make smaller ones that you’d be willing to sell?”