Page 4

CHAPTER 4

NATE

The steady scrape of the shovel against concrete fills the air as I clear the driveway I share with my neighbor. The rhythm is meditative, each push and lift of snow creating a satisfying pattern that helps quiet my mind after my trip to Burlington.

Three days later, I still can’t shake the memory of warm hands, dark eyes, and those fucking sexy sounds he made. These hookups are supposed to be forgettable—that’s the whole point—but something about this one is lingering.

I got back later than planned, missing whatever commotion my new neighbor’s arrival might have caused. Maybe the physical labor will help clear my head and push away thoughts of a stranger who managed to get under my skin despite the anonymous nature of our encounter.

The fresh powder sparkles in the weak January sun, almost making up for the bite in the air. Almost. I pause to adjust my gloves, surveying the progress I’ve made. The driveway has been solely my responsibility since the old neighbor moved out before winter hit. Clearing it alone has been manageable, but with someone new moving in, we should probably work out a system to share the task.

The sound of tires crunching on snow breaks through my thoughts. I glance over to see a dark-blue Subaru pulling onto the road in front of the house. My new neighbor emerges, arms laden with shopping bags. He’s shorter than me, with black hair and sun-kissed skin. He’s wearing what could generously be called a spring jacket—the kind of light windbreaker that makes every Vermonter wince in January. He may as well be wearing a billboard announcing Not From Around Here . The thin material does nothing to hide his slender but athletic build as he shivers slightly in the biting cold, his breath creating little puffs of steam in the winter air.

He’s struggling with the bags, but there’s a determined set to his shoulders as he makes his way up the snow-covered driveway. I find myself watching, shovel forgotten in my hands, as he navigates the slippery path with what appears to be sheer optimism rather than caution.

Before I can call out a warning, he turns slightly and bumps right into me. The collision sends several bags tumbling, spilling groceries across the snow.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” His words tumble out in a rush as he tries to steady himself after our collision, but I don’t miss the warmth in his voice, defying the freezing temperatures. “I didn’t see you there, which is ridiculous because you’re not exactly small—” He cuts himself off, and I don’t dislike the way his cheeks flush pink.

Cute.

A few oranges roll across the snow while a loaf of bread lands with a soft thump at our feet. His dark eyes meet mine with an endearing mix of embarrassment and humor as he shifts the remaining bags in his arms. “I mean—I’m Caspian. Caspian Lane. I’d shake your hand, but…” He gestures helplessly at the scattered groceries with his still-full arms, nearly losing his grip on another bag in the process. There’s something disarmingly charming about his flustered state, the way he’s trying to maintain dignity while surrounded by his spilled shopping.

“Nathan Stone, but you can call me Nate,” I reply, bending to help gather the fallen items. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

I’m reaching for a wayward orange when a familiar voice rings out across the yard. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

Addy approaches with her characteristic bounce, paint-spattered overalls a stark contrast against the pristine snow. Her curls escape from under a woolen beanie and that familiar mischievous glint in her eye usually means trouble for me.

“Hi!” Caspian’s face lights up with genuine warmth as he greets her, somehow managing to juggle his remaining bags and wave at the same time. “I’m Caspian, the new neighbor. And apparently also the neighborhood klutz.”

“Addy,” she responds with equal enthusiasm, already moving to help collect the scattered groceries. “I see you’ve met Nate already. Though he usually waits until at least the second date before sweeping someone off their feet.”

I shoot her a warning look, but Caspian laughs, the sound bright and infectious in the winter air. “Technical correction, I ran into him. Literally.”

“These things happen,” I manage, trying to ignore the knowing smirk Addy’s sending my way as we finish gathering the last of the spilled items. The last thing I need is for Addy to catch ideas about me and the new guy.

“Let me help you with those,” I offer, taking some of the bags from Caspian’s overloaded arms before he can protest. His hands brush against mine in the exchange, and I notice they’re bare. “Where are your gloves? It’s freezing out here.”

“Oh, right! I’ve come to realize that I probably need to go clothes shopping. Phoenix didn’t exactly prepare me for Vermont winters.”

“Phoenix?” Addy perks up, following us to Caspian’s door. “That’s quite a change.”

As Caspian fumbles with his keys, the cold has brought a flush to his cheeks, making his dark eyes appear even more vibrant. It’s…distracting.

Once we’ve deposited the groceries safely inside, Caspian turns to us with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much.”

“Need any help putting these away?” Addy asks, already eyeing the bags with interest.

“Oh no, you’ve both been so kind already,” Caspian says, shaking his head. “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“It’s no trouble—” Addy starts, but he waves us off with another warm smile.

“Really, I’ve got it from here. Thank you both so much.”

“If you change your mind, we’re only next door,” Addy says.

I take Addy’s hand and pull her out of Caspian’s place. The last thing a person needs while unpacking is nosy neighbors hovering in their space. Addy follows reluctantly, but as soon as we’re outside, she makes a beeline for my front door, clearly having no intention of letting me return to my shoveling.

“Actually, I should finish shoveling,” I start, but Addy’s already pushing the door open.

“The snow can wait, grumpy bear,” Addy says, giving me a gentle push.

Inside my house, Addy immediately heads for the coffee maker, moving around my kitchen with the familiarity of someone who’s spent countless hours here. I lean against the counter, watching her.

“So,” she starts, that dangerous gleam back in her eye. “He’s cute.”

“Adeline…”

“What? I’m just making an observation.” She measures out coffee with practiced movements. “A very accurate observation, might I add. And he seems sweet.”

I cross my arms, trying to maintain my stern expression. “Don’t you have anything else to do? Like bothering your fiancée?”

“She’s in Glen Hill until tomorrow.” Addy waves off my attempt at deflection. “Stop trying to change the subject. I saw how you were looking at him.”

“I wasn’t looking at him in any particular way.”

“Nathan Stone, I have known you for far too long to fall for that innocent act.” She turns to face me, hands on her hips. “You were definitely interested. And before you try to deny it again, may I remind you that I was once engaged to you? I know your ‘I find someone attractive’ face.”

I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. “Even if I was interested—which I’m not saying I am—I don’t do relationships, Addy. You know that.”

“Oh yes, because your current system of anonymous hookups in Burlington is working out so well for you.” She pours two cups of coffee, sliding one across the counter to me. “When was the last time you actually let someone get close?”

“We’re not having this conversation.” Especially because she knows the answer to that question.

“We are absolutely having this conversation.” She sips her coffee, studying me over the rim of her mug. “You can’t keep using what happened with us as an excuse to keep everyone at arm’s length forever.”

“I’m not—” I start, but she cuts me off with a look.

“You are. And I get it, I do. But, Nate, what happened between us wasn’t anyone’s fault. Sometimes life throws you curveballs, and yeah, it hurts, but you can’t let that stop you from trying again.”

The kitchen falls silent except for the soft ticking of the clock above the stove. Addy waits me out, knowing from long experience that pushing won’t get her anywhere.

Finally, I sigh. “He’s my neighbor, Ads. Even if I was interested, it’s not worth the risk. If things went wrong…”

“Or they could go right,” she counters softly. “When did you become such a pessimist?”

“I prefer realist.”

“You prefer hiding.” She sets down her mug and moves closer, laying a gentle hand on my arm. “Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. Just…maybe don’t automatically rule out the possibility of something more than nodding at each other across the driveway?”

I stare into my coffee, watching the steam curl up into the air. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.” She grins suddenly. “Besides, someone needs to teach that poor man how to dress for Vermont winters before he freezes to death.”