This house—its trim, colors, and structure—feels like home in a way nothing else in Whitewood Creek does. It reminds me of South Carolina, the land I grew up around, with its charm and history without all the pain that lingers there. And beyond that, it’s perfect for what I need. It matches the dreams I’ve been building in my head for years. You don’t just walk away from perfection. You fight for it. Especially not with the savings I’ve got from years of riding and endorsements, just waiting to be spent on my next chapter.
Mrs. Mayberry smiles, but there’s a mischievous glint in her eye that sets me on edge. “I did tell you that, Hayes, but only so you two could meet. And so that I could tell you both what I’ve already said before so that you stop blowing up my phone asking me to reconsider. I can’t sell the property to either of you because you’re not married.”
Regan’s head snaps toward her, a spark of frustration lighting up her blue eyes. “But Mrs. Mayberry—”
Mrs. Mayberry lifts her hand, silencing Regan instantly. It’s a gesture that’s soft, maternal even, and I realize Regan wasn’t exaggerating when she said Mrs. Mayberry is like a mother to her. Regan bows her head in obedience as she continues, her tone gentle and patient.
“I can’t sell the property to either of you unless one of you is married. That’s just the way it is. And to be fair, I do have a couple coming in from Charlotte next week to see the place. They’re very interested in the businessandthe home. They might be the perfect fit.”
Regan’s lips part, ready to argue again, but she clamps them shut, clearly knowing better. I take the moment of silence to glance at her again, really take her in. Her auburn hair is longer than it was seven years ago. She’s grown into herself, all soft curves and easy confidence, though I can’t help but notice the sadness lingering in her bright blue eyes at this news. She’s barefoot, the hem of her light, white summer dress swaying as she shifts on the grass antsy. She puffs her lips out in a frustrated sigh, and I catch the slight shine of pink on them. It’s such a casual thing, but it catches me off guard how pretty she is. She looks at home here, like she belongs on this property.
But it’s too bad. Because I’m going to be the one to buy it. Not the couple coming from Charlotte or her.Me.
Still, my mind wanders as I gaze at her. Questions bubble up, ones that I shouldn’t care about like is she happy these days?
Clearly, she isn’t married because Mrs. Mayberry isn’t letting her purchase the home.
Does she have the babies she once said she wanted?
Why is she so determined to buy this property? This is a lot of land for a single woman to manage on her own.
Why is she still living at her family’s house next door?
I shouldn’t care, but I do. I never sleep with a woman more than once—except my ex, who managed to mess me up enough that I had to leave Charlotte just to breathe again. Regan’s making me want to break that rule, though. Just for one night.
Mrs. Mayberry’s voice cuts through my thoughts, firm but kind.
“I’m telling you both this now so that you have time to figure it out. One more week. That’s all I can give you. After that, I’ll likely be selling to the couple from Charlotte. I need to move on. This place is too much for me. The barn, the fences, the house—it’s all falling apart, and I can’t keep calling on favors from your brothers, Colt and Cash, to help mow and upkeep, Regan. I need someone young who can care for this property the way it deserves. The way Mr. Mayberry would have wanted it.”
She steps back, crossing her arms, and the weight of her words settles heavily between me and Regan. One week. That’s not much time to figure anything out.
Regan nods, while I let out a loud, frustrated sigh. I can’t see how this is going to work, and the thought of losing the place over a ridiculous clause is like a punch to the gut because I have nowhere else to go. I’m currently sleeping at the motel next to the hospital in town and well, it lives up to its name.The OldCreek Motel.Every morning, I wake up feeling old, with a crick in my neck and back from the springs in the mattress that dig into me all night.
“Maybe you two should take the time to get to know each other,” Mrs. Mayberry suggests, her tone almost too casual. “See if there’s some sort of... compromise or arrangement you can come up with?”
My brows furrow, and I glance at Regan, who’s pointedly avoiding my gaze. Her eyes look to the house, the pond, even thesky like there’s something interesting up there in the clouds. I tilt my head to see what she’s staring at but find nothing but early spring blue.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
Regan huffs out a breath, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes like it’s totally obvious.
“She’s talking about a marriage of convenience, Hayes.”
A... what? I blink, my brain stuttering like an engine that won’t start. The words die in my throat because that’s... crazy. That’s a crazy suggestion.
Regan looks up at me, studying me with those piercing blue eyes that once made me lose all sense of reason. It’s like she can see the panic racing through me at the thought of marrying someone. Then, to my surprise, she throws her head back and laughs. Hard. It’s a full, carefree cackle that has her wild, dark red hair catching the sunlight as it sways with her movements.
“I don’t think so, Mrs. Mayberry,” she says, her voice dripping with amusement. “I told Hayes once to be careful not to fall in love with me. If we did that, he actually might.”
Mrs. Mayberry glances at me, her expression laced with confusion, but I barely notice it. Regan’s already walking away, her bare feet crunching against the gravel as she makes her way to a bike I hadn’t noticed before, propped under the old, oak tree that she was swinging from.
She swings one leg over the seat, the movement lifting the hem of her soft, white dress. One of the straps drops off her shoulder but instead of fixing it, she leaves it, drawing my eyes to the swell of her breasts and the smooth skin it exposed on her neck. Then she glances back at me, her blazing blue eyes locking onto mine.
“I’ll figure something out,” she says, her voice steady and determined. “And I’m going to get this property, one way or another, Hayes.”
Um, okay that felt a lot like a threat.
With that, she pedals off, her hair streaming behind her like fire in the sunlight. I stand there, rooted in place, watching her disappear down the dirt road, leaving me and Mrs. Mayberry in the thick silence she’s left behind.
