When she returns, she's changed into a green dress that makes her hair look even more vibrant. Several heads turn as she walks toward me. Anger flares instinctively before I tamp it down. Ican't blame them for looking. But I can make sure they know she's spoken for.
"Hungry?" I ask, offering my hand without thinking.
She takes it, her smaller fingers lacing through mine like they've always belonged there. "Starving."
I take her to Juniper's Diner, the best place in town. Juniper herself shows us to a table, her curious gaze lingering on our joined hands.
"Thorne Harrington," she says with a smirk. "Don't think I've seen you in here with company."
"Everyone seems to know you," Dahlia observes.
"Small town," I reply. "Three generations of Harringtons in Silver Ridge."
"And will there be a fourth?" she asks, then immediately blushes. "Sorry, that was presumptuous."
My heart hammers against my ribs. "Been wondering that myself lately."
Her eyes meet mine. "Thorne, I have a business in Vancouver. A life."
"You could have those things here," I say, the words coming out before I can stop them. "Silver Ridge needs someone like you."
I need someone like you.But it's too soon for those words.
"I just met you," she says softly.
"Yes." I take her hand across the table, not caring who sees. "But some things you just know."
I have two days before she needs to return to Vancouver. Two days to show her that what we found in that storm is worth rebuilding her life for.
Two days to convince her that she's already home.
seven
Dahlia
Tomorrow.
The thought sits heavily in my chest as I arrange wildflowers in Thorne's cabin. Tomorrow I have to drive back to Vancouver, back to my shop, back to appointments and orders and city noise. Back to a life that suddenly feels like it belongs to someone else.
Two days. That's all it took to turn my world upside down.
I place a vibrant purple lupine next to a piece of gnarled driftwood Thorne collected years ago. The contrast is perfect—soft against hard, color against texture. My mind races with possibilities, designs unlike anything I've created before. In just these few days, Silver Ridge has awakened something in me, a wellspring of creativity I didn't know I possessed.
"Beautiful."
I turn to find Thorne watching me from the doorway, his eyes fixed not on the arrangement but on me. My heart does that ridiculous flutter it's been doing since I met him.
"I've had good materials to work with," I say, gesturing to the wooden pieces he's given me.
He crosses the room in a few strides, coming to stand behind me. His hands rest on my shoulders, thumbs tracing circles at the base of my neck. "Want to show you something."
"More wood?" I tease, leaning back against his chest.
"Something better."
The meadow stretches before us, a riot of wildflowers swaying in the afternoon breeze. Purple lupines, orange paintbrush, yellow balsamroot, and dozens of other flowers I can't name carpet the ground in a natural tapestry that takes my breath away.
"Oh my god," I whisper, overwhelmed by the beauty. "It's incredible."
