Page 12
Charlie: Sure, and I’m the Queen of England.
Briar: Who told you guys? I just started today.
Literally five minutes ago, if we’re being technical.
Birdie: Apparently, Julie told Ethel, who shared it with Gladys from the walking club, and now all of Bluebell knows you’re watching Caleb in the afternoons.
Wren: Sometimes I forget how quickly gossip spreads in a small town.
The four of us have been best friends since kindergarten and were inseparable through high school.
I figured we’d all stay in Bluebell forever until Wren dropped the bombshell that she was moving to Florida with Cole, her boyfriend.
I’ve never been a fan of his, but after they had their daughter, Lottie, I knew she wasn’t coming back.
At least our group chat keeps her in the loop on all the town gossip.
Charlie: The rumor mill has one thing right.
Wren: What’s that?
Charlie: Jensen is hot AND single.
I hate it when she’s right.
Birdie: Did you forget he’s eight years older?
Charlie: Older men = more experience.
Charlie: Picture this. Having sex with a guy who treats minute five like a warm-up.
Charlie: Mind. Blown.
Most of the guys I’ve been with are my age, but she might be onto something. Having a man who knows how to take charge and has experience pleasing a woman is a tempting upgrade.
Birdie: I think I missed a chapter because when did you hook up with an older guy??
Charlie: It was field research. No one from town.
Birdie: Yet you kept it a secret. You know I have to live vicariously through you. *unamused face emoji
Wren: Do I have to book a flight to Bluebell so I can referee you two?
Charlie: Yes, you do. We might dissolve into total chaos without you.
Wren: Now you sound like Lottie when she’s trying to talk me into letting her have a second cupcake before dinner.
Charlie: You should let her. Cupcakes are practically a food group.
Charlie: Sugar Pine Bakery’s new red velvet ones are sinful. I had one yesterday.
Birdie: Didn’t the doctor say you should cut back on sugar?
Charlie: Yes, Mom .
I chuckle. That girl lives by her own rules.
Briar: As entertaining as this is, duty calls.
Charlie: Try not to swoon too hard over Mr. Tall, Dark, and Daddy.
I let out an ungraceful snort, followed by a burst of laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
I snap my head up, meeting Jensen’s curious glance from the passenger seat. My face flushes, warmth spreading over my cheeks when I realize he’s been waiting for me to get out of the Jeep.
“Oh, nothing. Just something my friend Charlie said.” I really hope he didn’t catch a glimpse of my group chat, particularly not the last message. “We should go inside.”
I hop out of the vehicle and stand nearby while Jensen helps Caleb out of his booster seat.
I notice Caleb has left his stuffie in the Jeep.
I’m not sure if it was on purpose or if he just forgot about it, so I don’t mention it.
We can swing back and grab it if he asks for it later.
But right now, I’m taking it as a small sign that he’s learning to be without it.
For the most part, Jensen left Caleb and me to our own devices this afternoon, though I did spot him peeking into the craft room between his calls, where we were painting rocks to put in the garden.
The real problem was me. I couldn’t resist sneaking a glance at him every few minutes.
His hair was tousled from running his hand through it, and he had on jeans and a crisp white button-up shirt.
What really did me in was when he put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses.
They gave him an irresistible edge, blending intelligence with a rugged appeal.
I never thought I’d be someone who’d swoon over a man in glasses.
Then Jensen showed up looking like a sexy nerd wrapped in sin.
The stacks of parenting books scattered around the cottage only make him more irresistible.
I’ve caught him several times this week with his nose buried in a book and scribbling notes as he reads.
He might not have experience as a parent, but he’s determined to learn everything he can to be the best dad possible.
It’s just one of the many reasons he has me mesmerized.
He loves Caleb and fiercely protects him at all costs.
Not to mention the way he rakes his hand through his hair when he’s deep in thought or his early runs at dawn, muscles flexing with every step.
I can’t resist watching him from the kitchen window every morning as I make breakfast, but it’s hardly my fault it has a prime view of his workout route.
Even the way he massaged my feet earlier was addicting—his intense gaze locked on mine the whole time. It’s too bad he’s off-limits. The last thing he needs is any distractions from the reason he came to Bluebell.
I finally suggested to Caleb that we explore outside while our rocks dry, so I’d have some space to clear my head.
We’ve just returned from a walk by the pond when Caleb’s attention shifts at the sound of a high-pitched whinny drifting from the pastures.
“Must be feeding time for the horses,” I say.
His face lights up, and he stands on tiptoe to get a better view of the horses grazing in the field.
I’ll have to ask Jensen if he’s okay with Caleb riding soon. I doubt he’ll object, especially if he’s there to supervise and Caleb is as excited about the prospect as he seems.
I text Cooper to see if he can fit in a lesson for Caleb in the next few weeks.
He owns a private security firm that employs vets as bodyguards for high-profile clients.
In his free time, he trains the horses at Silver Saddle Ranch and occasionally offers riding lessons.
He and Heath have been friends for years.
They met when Cooper moved to Bluebell after serving in the military.
He was searching for peace and purpose, and the horses gave him both.
He’s been the biggest supporter of my nonprofit and has already agreed to volunteer twice a week to teach kids how to ride once we’re up and running.
“Why don’t we go feed the chickens now?” I suggest.
My mouth falls open when Caleb slips his hand into mine. It’s a simple act, yet his trust in me feels significant. I gently squeeze his hand as we walk toward the chicken coops, glancing over my shoulder when I sense someone is watching.
Jensen stands at the dining room window, his eyes fixed on my hand clasped with Caleb’s.
I crouch beside Caleb and nod toward the house. “We should say hi to your dad. How about we give him a wave? I’m sure it’ll make his day.”
Caleb stands a little taller as he turns toward the house and flashes an enthusiastic thumbs-up, his grin stretching from ear to ear.
Jensen’s shoulders relax, his eyes softening as he waves.
My chest tightens at witnessing the sweet exchange.
It’s a reminder that love can grow one small gesture at a time.
When Caleb looks toward the chicken coops at the sound of clucking, Jensen takes the opportunity to mouth, “thank you” in my direction.
I respond with a smile and a silent “you’re welcome.”
I mean it. Nothing is more rewarding than seeing the bond between father and son begin to blossom. I may not be able to hurry it along, but being part of the process feels like magic.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12 (Reading here)
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53