"I thought I would," I said easily. "I'd like to see how it looks up here when it snows. From close up." I'd seen it from a distance for more years than I could remember. For just as long, I'd wanted to come here. I used to beg, even if it was only for a weekend.
My parents were… Not disinterested. Adamant. They refused to travel up into the mountains. I won't pretend to understand why. Every time I asked, they changed the subject. Eventually, I gave up asking.
I hadn't told them where I was going when I left Vancouver, just that I was getting away. I hated keeping secrets from them, but for some reason I couldn't explain, I had a feeling this would anger them.
Maybe it was nothing more than rebellion that drew me to this place. Maybe it was something more. Maybe it was a need for fresh air and altitude. I didn't know. I just needed to be up here.
"It's something else," Louisa said. "This place is beautiful in all it’s seasons and moods. The blazing sun and heat, thunderstorms and pouring rain, and freezing blizzards. If you have the right view out the window, you don't need a television. You could stand there, watch the landscape change for hours and never get bored."
"That's what I'm hoping for," I said. "I want to draw and paint all of those moods and seasons. I could do a series of paintings." For the first time in I didn't know how long, I was actually excited. My hands itched to pick up a brush or pencil and get to work.
"That sounds like a fabulous idea. We have a market once a month if you want to sell them. Every first Saturday, behind the Frosty Brew. Usually everyone moves into the pub after the market." She grinned, showing a gap between her top front teeth.
"Jacob Ferguson, he owns the pub; he loves it. Most of the money people make selling things goes to him in the end. But we do a lot of barter too. You know, a painting for a couple of dozen eggs. That kind of thing."
"I love that," I said sincerely. That was exactly the kind of thing I came here for. I didn't mind swapping my work for things like that. Useful things. Or not so useful, because life was too short not to have a few pretty or whimsical items on the shelves around the living room. The cottage had a couple of vases, and books here or there, but it was impersonal. If I was going to stay here for a while, I wanted it to feel like home.
If I could make a bit of money and not spend it all at the pub, that would be good too.
"Me too," she said. "It's a good opportunity to get to know our neighbours, and the kids always have a ball. You must try Lyle Johnson-Jones' cheesecake. He and his husband own Hollow Bites, the best restaurant in town. Not that I'm biased to one over the others." She slid me a sly smile.
"Of course not," I said with a grin. "I'm sure the town mayor has to be impartial."
"Naturally," she agreed. "But that cheesecake is pretty fucking good."
Now I laughed. "I'm hungry just thinking about it. I admit to being partial to cheese in general and cheesecake in particular."
Louisa chuckled. "You should fit in here perfectly. We tend to bond over our mutual appreciation of cheesecake." She smacked her lips loudly.
"I knew I was drawn to the place for a reason," I said.
And I was. I got into my tiny little hatchback and started to drive, not knowing where I was going until I pulled in here. Something about the place made me stop and look twice. Something comfortably familiar and magnetic at the same time. I couldn't put my finger on what. Something needed me to be here. Like a secret waiting to be unravelled. A secret that had nothing to do with cheesecake. That could be the cherry on the top.
"I should get back to it," she said. "If you need anything, town hall is right beside the café. If I'm not there, someone usually knows where to find me."
I nodded. "Thank you. And thank you for the pie. I was wondering what I'd do for dessert." Of course, I'd have to figure out dinner first. I wasn't much of a cook, having left that to my parents, or a microwave meal. Now was as good a time as any, to learn. I certainly had the time to spare. I spied a modem in the corner of the living room, so the cottage had Wi-Fi. I made a note to look up some recipes and write down a shopping list before heading out to the grocery store.
There was that twinge in my heart again. The endless ache I tried so hard to ignore. I came here to put it behind me and that's what I'd do. I’d draw, I'd paint and I'd learn how to cook. I'd embrace this change and all the opportunities this small town held. Now was my chance to reinvent myself and start my life over. No one knew me here. No one had expectations of me. No one but myself.
This was exactly what I needed. A new beginning.
I kept telling myself that, but it didn't ease the heaviness in my chest and it didn't help the unease when I remembered the hostility in Connor Ferguson's eyes. I didn't know why it mattered, but I knew that man and his friend were going to be a whole lot of trouble.
3
LEAH
"What are you doing here?"
I'd set up my easel on the edge of town, in the dappled light of a couple of tall oaks. My easel angled so I could paint and observe the town. People came and went from stores with white stucco and wood, stained dark, contrasting with bright awnings and buckets of late summer flowers.
No one passed anyone else without saying hello. Many stopped for a quick conversation before bustling on. Others lingered for a few minutes, enjoying the sunshine before they went on their way. The whole atmosphere was slower and friendlier than the city.
Aurora Hollow was a true little community. Like something out of a storybook. Hopefully not like those British shows where they solved a murder every episode.
No, the scene that unfolded on my canvas was warm and friendly. The opposite of the voice that spoke behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Riley Crane leaning against his pickup, legs crossed at his ankles, arms over his burly chest. He looked just this side of hostile. I did my best to ignore the fact he was also this side of delicious.
