Page 6

Rain

A fter I finished cleaning up the kitchen at Serene Lookout, I decided to hit the gym in town. It’s too late for a hike.

Once I change into a pair of leggings and a sports bra inside Minx, I head straight to the gym and climb onto a treadmill. I start with a brisk walk, arms stretching overhead as I draw in a deep breath. Exhaling, I lower them, rolling out the tension in my shoulders.

My body begins to loosen. I pick up the pace until I’m running.

My mind drifts to the hot guy that I saw twice today. My sister’s patient is fine as hell. Leave it to the universe to taunt me with something—someone—I can’t have.

He’s a professional athlete, I’m sure he has a model girlfriend or a phone full of numbers. He can get any woman, any time. I’m sure of that.

I shake off thoughts of Hotshot and focus on today’s class. It was my first time teaching, and although it went well and the patients seemed engaged, I couldn’t believe how messy the kitchen was at the end. I’m proud I didn’t lose my cool and got through it.

Next time, I'll focus less on the recipe and more on how to run a kitchen—how to chop and cut without making it look like a food fight broke out. I chuckle at the thought. Maybe we should have a food fight at some point. But first, they need to learn kitchen etiquette.

After running seven miles, I start a cooldown program. My body aches in a way that can only be cured with a hot shower.

I make my way to the locker room and start counting my blessings: I have peace, an awesome job, a family who loves me, and my van to catch a glimpse of the stars from anywhere.

What else could I ask for?

A vision of a tall, dark, and handsome Hotshot hockey player sneaks again.

Jet-black hair that probably hasn’t been touched by a comb in years but still falls in perfect waves.

Dark, big brown eyes. Warm, golden skin.

Tall and fit without being bulky. I even caught a glimpse of a gold chain around his neck.

I’m not sure why, but there’s something extra sexy about a guy who wears a chain.

Maybe I need to pay more attention to hockey, because if the other guys look like him …

Damn.

Instead of going home for dinner or eating in the van, I raid Rustic Spoon’s kitchen. The cooks usually take any leftovers with them, but maybe I can whip up something quick.

As I approach the main entrance, I spot someone trying to open the door, even though the neon C losed sign is lit up.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” I say as I get closer. The guy’s now peering through one of the windows.

He’s tall, wearing jeans, a faded gray T-shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly. A black baseball hat turned backward on his head. With every movement, the fabric of his shirt shifts—and oh lord, what a sight. This guy has muscles on top of muscles .

He doesn’t look familiar—it must be a tourist who didn’t bother checking our hours online. I stop a foot away from him and clear my throat.

He straightens to his full height and turns around slowly, like he’s worried he was caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Oh, hey,” I say, recognizing him. It’s Hotshot.

He flashes a wicked grin, and my knees nearly give out.

Calm down, Rain. It’s just a guy.

“Hi, you. Just the person I was looking for,” he says, slipping his hands into his pockets, shoulders inching up toward his ears. He looks boyish—but in a hot way. I’m not even sure how that’s possible.

I frown, and he chuckles.

“Yeah, I wanted to apologize for behaving like a total loser today. ”

I nod, smiling. “Cool. Is there anything else you need to say, or…?” I let the question dangle.

He takes off his hat, rustling his hair. I swear to everything holy, I’m hit by his scent—a mix of pinewood and leather—and I feel like I was slapped by his manliness.

“Well, I was hoping to grab a bite to eat, but I guess I’ll have to find dinner somewhere else,” he says with a shrug.

“It’s your lucky day. I was about to prepare something to eat.”

His face lights up, and we head toward the delivery door in the alley. I quickly unlock it and wave him in.

The kitchen isn’t small by any means, but this man’s presence makes the space feel tight.

“Anything I can help with?” he asks, his hands going back to his pockets.

Is he nervous?

“Would you be okay with breakfast for dinner?”

He gives me a grateful smile. But instead of sitting or moving out of my way, he extends his hand, and I take it. His grip is firm, and his hand covers mine completely, and for some reason, I don’t feel overwhelmed—I feel safe. I can’t say that about all the men I’ve met.

“I’m Alexander González. But everyone calls me Xander. I’m a forward for the Carolina Red Wolves, and I came to Azalea Creek to recover from an injury.”

He introduces himself while still holding my hand, giving it a gentle shake. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.

He grins back.

I bite my lip.

What the hell is going on?

I need to cool this interaction down. I’m all hot and bothered from a simple handshake. That’s never happened to me before.

Then again, it’s not like I’ve had many chances to meet guys. But still—even I know this shit isn’t normal.

“Xander,” I say, looking him in the eye. “Good to know the hotshot player has a name.”

He chuckles, then glances at our still-connected hands. Clearing his throat, he mumbles something I can’t quite understand.

“It’s okay, Hotshot. You can ogle all you want. Nothing is going to happen between us,” I say, turning toward the fridge for eggs and veggies for our dinner. “I can guarantee you that.”

“How are you so sure?” he shoots back. “You might fall madly in love with me and follow me to Raleigh.”

“Because if we hook up, I’ll chew you up and spit you out. I can’t do that with one of my sister’s patients,” I say while whisking the eggs.

I avoid looking at him, but he barks out a laugh. When I glance over, he’s doubled over, cracking up. I can’t help but join in.

This is… fun.

“Oh man—I wasn’t expecting to laugh so much. That’s a good one, Rain,” he says, standing upright and absentmindedly rubbing his right collarbone.

“Is that where you got hurt? Your injury?” I ask.

“Yeah. I fell against the goal post. Any other day, it wouldn’t have meant anything, but in that game in particular, I fell with such force that I broke my collarbone.”

“Ouch,” I wince.

“Yeah, it was the worst pain I’ve ever felt.”

I shiver as I think about how much breaking that bone hurts.

I plate the food, and he comes to stand beside me.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help? I feel bad just standing around.”

“It’s all good, but I appreciate you asking. Maybe you can get us something to drink? I’m sure there’s lemonade and tea in that fridge,” I say, pointing to the one near the diner entrance.

He heads over, grabs two bottles of water, and the sweet tea jar.

“I had this tea earlier. It was delicious,” he says, pulling out a chair and motioning for me to sit.

What a gentleman.

I pour two glasses and pass one to him.

“This is good, thank you,” he says, taking a spoonful of his omelet.

“That’s the recipe I taught at Serene Lookout earlier. Two students made that mess you saw.”

His eyes widen as I take a bite of my meal.

“Yeah. I think next time, I’m just going to teach them how to chop and clean their stations. Then we can build from there.”

“That sounds like a good plan. I’m excited for the next class.”

I sip my tea instead of replying.

He shifts the conversation. “Does Granny read the tarot to everyone who comes in?”

I let out a laugh. “Oh gosh, she read your cards? You could say Granny is a people person—she needs interaction. Most folks don’t mind and are good sports about it.”

I shrug but don’t mention that Granny’s been deep into witchcraft since her youth.

“I thought it was cool. She definitely made me chuckle a couple of times. I think my mom would dig a tarot reading—she’s always been fascinated by that stuff.”

Huh. He brings up his family so casually. He must have a good relationship with his parents. Or at least with his mom.

“Yeah, a lot of people find it interesting,” I say, but my mind lingers on his earlier mention of his mom. “Are you close to your family?”

He chews thoughtfully, his gaze drifting somewhere far off. After a few beats, he nods.

“Yeah, we’re close. I’m an only child and have been blessed with the best parents. But I don’t see them too often. They live in Massachusetts, where I’m from, and with all the travel during the season, it’s hard to visit.”

He looks back at me. “How about you? I take it you’re close?”

He raises an eyebrow, and it’s the first time I notice the warm hint of honey in his deep brown eyes. A swirl of color that catches the light and makes them glint.

“Yeah, I think we’re too close sometimes,” I say with a chuckle. A memory of bickering with my siblings flashes through my mind, all noise and love tangled together .

“Do you have any other siblings besides Ruin?”

“Yeah, I have three brothers. River manages the family orchard. Then there’s Miles—he runs a construction business. After him, it’s Ruin and me. And last but not least, there’s Merlin, the baby of the family. He has one more year of college to go.”

“Wow, four siblings. How was it growing up?” he asks as he polishes off his food.

“Crowded,” I say playfully.

He laughs—unabashed and full—and it fills the room. I want to bottle that sound.

“How about you? Did you grow up with cousins nearby?” I ask.

He gets up and takes our plates to the washing station. I smile and move beside him as he rinses.

“I did. I have a few cousins on my mom’s side. We all lived in the same town and saw each other often. My dad’s family—most of them—still live in Colombia. Although we used to visit once a year, it wasn’t enough for me to get close.”

As he talks, he finishes up the dishes—not just our plates, but everything I used while cooking.

Impressive.

“So, do you speak Spanish?”

I don’t want our conversation to end. I haven’t enjoyed getting to know someone this much since… well, ever .

“Sadly, I understand more than I speak. I was a dumb jock growing up and thought knowing another language wasn’t a flex. Now I regret it.”

He dries his hands and slips them back into his pockets.

“Bummer. I wish I knew another language. Gio—Ruin’s husband—is from Argentina, and he sometimes speaks to her in Spanish. The way my sister reacts, I bet what he says is not exactly PG.”

I chuckle, and he joins in.

“I’m sorry, I’m oversharing about your therapist. Last thing you want to hear is how healthy her relationship with her husband is.”

He waves me off with a smile. A quiet stretch between us. Not awkward, just… full.

I could offer him dessert. Keep him here longer. But I don’t want to come off as too interested, especially after I told him we couldn’t hook up.

“Listen, Rain. I know we started off on a shaky foot—or should I say silent foot.”

I roll my eyes at his bad attempt at a joke, and he grins.

“In all seriousness, I don’t want to go back to Serene Lookout just yet. I’m really enjoying talking to you.”

He looks at me through his eyelashes, and somehow, his eyes become even more interesting. It’s like, if I stared long enough, I’d fall into a story only the two of us could write.

“Yeah,” I murmur. “It’s been an unexpectedly fun evening. Do you want to go stargazing? ”

“Stargazing? he asks, perking up. “Where?”

“There’s a spot in my family’s orchard where we could park my van. Maybe we can light a fire and just chat.”

I try to sound cool and calm, but there’s a hint of nervousness in my voice. Luckily, Xander doesn’t seem to catch on, because the next thing to come out of his mouth is, “You have a van?”

I chuckle and nod, motioning for him to follow me.

“Yeah, her name’s Minx,” I say, locking the door and heading toward where she’s parked.

“Cool ride,” he says, giving her a once-over. “But I drove here. Is it okay if I follow you?”

I smirk. “Try to keep up, Hotshot.”

He laughs, and just before I start the engine, I hear him call out, “You’re trouble.”

I grin as I wait for him to get to his car.

I’m not sure if I’m trouble, or if he is.

Either way, I can’t wait to find out.