I shook my head. All my good humor and optimism for my three-month stint in Fairhope was quickly evaporating. Something about getting nearly knocked out by a five-foot-nothing woman felt like a bad omen. In fact, I’d gotten a better look at her after the blow to my head and decided she might hardly even be a “woman.” Girl might’ve been more accurate. She was probably still in college.

  I snatched it from her. “Are you usually a swing first, ask questions later kind of person?”

  She put her fists on her hips. I couldn’t help noticing the whole picture of her then. Attractive. Her short red hair was cut just below her jawline. She had a heart-shaped face, a freckled, upturned nose, and a generous mouth with straight white teeth. And I needed to stop noticing things like that. The girl was probably more than ten years younger than I was.

  “If someone was actually trying to steal your kids, would you want me to politely ask them to stop, or take the one chance I might’ve had?”

  I sighed. My throbbing face made me want to be stubborn. I wanted to be pissed at her for hitting me like that. But I counted to five in my head and let my good sense win out. “Fair point. Thank you, I guess. For hitting me in the face…”

  She laughed. It was an infectious laugh, and I found myself smiling before I realized it. Damn. That could be dangerous. She’d taken me from boiling and pissed to smiling in just a few seconds.

  Billy was grinning like an idiot, so I glared at him. “Stop looking so pleased with yourself. This is your fault, you know.”

  “Billy told me you wouldn’t get mad,” Molly said. Then, in typical six-year-old fashion, she changed the subject at break-neck speed. “I want to be a unicorn when I grow up.” She said this to the woman–the girl. She stuck her finger up and planted it on her forehead and let out an impressive neigh. I knew that neigh was only so impressive because she’d spent hours and hours practicing it. In the backseat of my car. In my bed before my alarm rang. Outside the door to the bathroom.

  The girl laughed. “I think that’s an awesome dream. You know I used to love My Little Pony when I was a kid? I bet I still have some of my old toys. I could donate them to a fellow unicorn enthusiast, if it’s okay with your daddy.”

  Molly looked up at me. “Can I please, daddy?”

  “It’s not a good idea to take gifts from strangers. Especially ones who assault your father.”

  “I’m Harper Halloday,” she said cheerily. She knelt to shake Molly’s hand. “Now we’re not strangers.”

  “I’m Molly Ashford. My middle name is Ruth because that was my grandma’s doggie’s name. But daddy and mommy fought over my middle name and mommy only won because she’s a stubborn, full-headed–”

  “And that’s plenty of personal information,” I said, gently sliding my hand over Molly’s mouth.

  “Bull-headed,” Billy whispered loud enough for all of us to hear. “It’s not full-headed.”

  Molly nodded seriously, mouthing the correct word to herself.

  Harper was smirking.

  “They’re divorced,” Billy said, and I definitely didn’t like the tone of his voice. He’d said that almost like a suggestion. Or an opportunity.

  I turned to narrow my eyes at him and confirmed exactly what the little schemer was thinking. “We should really be going. We’re only here for three months, but we got a small moving truck coming today.” And now I was the one giving this girl more personal information than I should’ve.

  “I didn’t get your name,” Harper said, ignoring my haste. She was kneeling in front of Billy now, whose cheeks had gone bright red.

  “Billy.” I saw him use the same breathing techniques I’d taught Molly for when he got anxious. I felt a little surge of pride. He looked calmer, but then he used his new-found calm for evil. “My dad is Greyson. He’s thirty-six, but he can bench press three hundred pounds. A lot of younger guys can’t even do that. He doesn’t go on dates because when he’s not working he’s spending time with us, but we’re getting older now and we can look after ourselves. How old are you?” His sentences came out rapid-fire with barely any space between to breathe.

  Harper smiled and her eyes slid in my direction briefly, flicking down to my chest and then back to Billy. “I’m twenty-three.”

  Thirteen years younger than me.

  “Does that mean you’re old enough to marry?” Molly asked.

  Harper laughed. “Yes. If I wanted to.”

  “Are you married?” Billy asked.

  “Are you a princess?” Molly echoed, barely giving her time to answer.

  “Guys,” I said quickly, tucking the frozen peas under my arm so I could take both children by the shoulders and ease them back from Harper. They were inching closer and closer with every word. “We’ve got to go, and you don’t ask someone you just met questions like that. It’s rude.”

  Billy stared up at me. “You said it’s okay to be rude to strangers.”

  I had said that. But in my defense, it was when I was coffee deprived and some asshole tried to dump every last pony toy Molly wanted into his cart right before we got there.

  “It’s okay,” Harper said. She had an easy smile. It was the sort of smile that probably could’ve defused bombs and solved hostage situations. I wondered why she couldn’t have tried that smile to stop the “kidnapping” before resorting to giving me a black eye.

  There was an uncomfortable silence, and Harper seemed to feel it. She bounced on her toes and gave a little shrug. “Twenty-three is pretty young for marriage, though.” I wasn’t sure if she was trying to give me a warning or if she was hoping to impart some wisdom on my kids.

  Molly thought about that. “What if it’s true love?”

  I wanted to scoff at that. People talked about love. But I’d given my heart plenty of chances to feel love. In the end, I settled for convenience. My ex-wife and I got along well at first and it was practical. Getting our first house with two incomes was easier and we didn’t squabble. Marriage was good for my career, and it led to my kids. But love? If you asked me, love was the illusion people decided to buy. It was the false dream you used to get past the point when you got tired of your spouse and the arguments started. Because people changed, and I couldn’t imagine a scenario where that change wouldn’t drive them apart like it had with me and Katie.

  But Harper looked like she was giving Molly’s question serious thought. She got down on her knees eye to eye with Molly. She was good with the kids. Really good. She lowered her voice until Molly’s mouth was hanging open and she was clinging to every word. “I believe everybody has a very special someone out there. And one day, the universe will cross your paths. Your job is to have an open heart when that time comes and take the opportunity.”

  Harper really was a kid. It sounded like she still believed in fairy tales, but I had to admit it was sweet to see the effect she had on Molly. I wanted Molly to believe things like that, even if one day she’d have to find out it was all bullshit. Kids deserved happy ignorance.

  Molly looked up at me, big eyes twinkling. “I don’t know what some of those words meant,” she whispered.

  I chuckled, rubbing her back. I was surprised to see even Billy looked a little enchanted by Harper’s words.

  Harper stood back up with a shrug and another girlish smile. “Anyway. I watch too many sappy movies. But I should let you guys go. Oh!” she reached in her purse and pulled out a coupon for a place called Halladay’s Bagels. “Take these and come by tomorrow morning.”

  “You own a bagel shop?” I asked. Aren’t you a little young? Was the part I didn’t voice.

  “My mom does,” she explained. “But she’s super nice and she’ll love your kids. Bring those in and the bagels will be on us. Okay?”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She smiled and did a little shoulder shrug like it was no big deal.

  And it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big deal that she was good with my kids. It wasn’t a big deal that she was distractingly attractive. Because I wasn’t in Fairhope to get side-tracked, and I especially wasn’t here to chase after college girls.

  4

  HARPER

  My apartment smelled like cinnamon and bubbling hot butter. I’d brought in all the free labor I could find, which meant enlisting my best friend, Lin. We turned my cramped little apartment into a confectionary warzone in the span of an hour. I was cooking everything I could ahead of time and prepping all the rest for the Night of Lights tomorrow.

  I hoped to have my other bestie, Farrah, here helping as well, but she couldn’t come. She was between jobs at the moment. She was planning to interview at the old Ashford Inn, but–

  I froze with my hands in cold, grainy dough, eyes darting and brows furrowing. Why did that thought make my chest feel tight? What was I missing?

  Mr. Ashford.

  Those kids earlier. That big, grumpy man with the muscles. Billy and Molly Ashford. The guy from out of town…

  Shit. Was he Mr. Ashford’s grandson? It all started to make sense. Mr. Ashford had another son who lived in town. Zack was probably a few years younger, but I could see the similarity now that I thought about it. They both had that darkly handsome, broad framed look. But Zack looked like he belonged outdoors and this Greyson guy was somehow clinical. When I thought of him, my mind filled with clean-cut offices with towering views of a sterile city. He was all leather-bound portfolios and meetings.

  Zack looked like he belonged here, but this new guy didn’t.

  I started working my hands through the dough, hoping to force myself back to a calm place.

  Did it really matter if some random guy was an out of towner or related to a local? Obviously he’d been handsome. He had this whole grumpy but not totally unavailable vibe going for him. But it was also clear he saw me as a little kid from the way he talked. When he asked if I owned the bagel shop, he’d looked like he was on the verge of laughing at the idea.

  I gave the dough an unnecessary series of little punches, working out my annoyance.

  Who cared if he was Mr. Ashford’s grandson? Not me.

  Across from me, Lin was portioning out balls of cookie dough. She might’ve been eating more of it than she was putting down on the baking sheets, but I’d accounted for her belly tax when I asked her to help and cooked a little extra.

  Lin and I met in elementary school at Fairhope’s own Rising Star Academy. We’d bonded over our mutual hatred of Kenny Mathers, the big, cute asshole in our grade who always crashed our mulch bake sales under the slide. Thankfully, he’d left Fairhope after high school to go on and become annoyingly famous in his band.

  Rule number one with Lin was never mentioning Kenny, and especially never mentioning his band.

  “At least use a new spoon after you lick one,” I scolded.

  Lin looked up–aware that she’d been caught red-handed. She had jet black hair, perfect skin that always made me jealous, and cat-like upturned eyes. She wrinkled her nose at me and licked the spoon again. She paused, tilting her head. “What’s up with you?”

  “Nothing’s up with me,” I said. I was a terrible liar, so I kept my eyes on the dough. “This is a big order and I want to make sure I get it right. Maybe if enough people see what I can do, someone in town will invest in my business plan to start a restaurant here in Fairhope.”

  “Nobody else is anywhere near as qualified as you,” Lin said. “But I assume you’re talking about that business plan you wrote on the back of a napkin? The one that’s like two lines? Get lots of money from investor. Start amazing restaurant. Oh, I almost forgot about the little hearts and cats you drew all over it.”

  “I want to be a chef. Not a business woman, okay? All I know is if someone gives me a professional kitchen and some tables, I’ll be selling them out within a month.” I didn’t mention how much I felt a hollow fear in the pit of my stomach at the idea of this not working. If I couldn’t find a way to make my dream come true in Fairhope, I’d have to look for work elsewhere. Maybe even in a big city, and even the thought made my heart ache. I loved this little town.

  “You don’t usually abuse the dough like that,” Lin noted.

  I sighed. “I just had an awkward morning.” I explained the incident at McDermit’s and left out all the descriptives about the man that kept wanting to slip out.

  Lin studied me. “He was cute, wasn’t he?”

  “He was alright.”

  “He was smoking hot.” Lin laughed. “You’re already blushing.”

  “He was also thirty-six. Thirty-six, Lin. He could practically be my dad.”

  “If he had you when he was…” she counted on her fingers. “Twelve or thirteen? That’s a young father.”

  “Still,” I said. “It’d be weird. And he was dressed normal, but he had businessman written all over him. Businessman who works out, maybe, but still. I could practically picture one of those Bluetooth headsets on him and a suit. Just no. Anyway, I doubt I’ll even see him again.”

  “No? You don’t think he’ll be staying at the Ashford Inn? You could probably see him from your window if you tried.”

  I licked my lips. I hadn’t thought about that. The Ashford Inn was caddy-corner from the little apartment building where I lived. It was as much a fixture of Fairhope as McDermit’s or the drive-in.

  “Anyway,” Lin said, voice completely casual. “If you’re not interested in snagging yourself a bite of out-of-town dad bod, maybe you can introduce me.”

  I slammed the dough on the counter a little harder than I intended, then cleared my throat. “Dad bod? He looked more like Thor.” I sounded way too defensive when I said that. “And you can introduce yourself. I have no plans to talk to him again.”

  Lin’s grin was wicked. “Mhm.” And I hated how pleased she sounded with herself.

  She had no idea what I was thinking, despite what she may believe.

  “Guy from out of town shows up and you two happen to cross paths,” she mused. “Sounds like some sparks flew. And here you’ve been wishing for your little once upon a time story. Almost makes you wonder if–”

  “Nope. It doesn’t. My perfect story doesn’t start with me clubbing a guy over the head with my purse. And my Mr. Perfect doesn’t already have kids. He’s also my age. And a lot less grumpy.”

  Lin shrugged. “If you say so.”

  That’s damn right, I thought. I did say so.

  For at least two minutes, I kept my eyes on the dough I was kneading. Did I want to sneak a look toward the Ashford Inn? Yes. Was I going to let Lin catch me doing it? No.

  So when I thought enough time had passed, I very discreetly lifted my eyes to the window over Lin’s shoulder.

  She’d been waiting. Lin clapped her hands and laughed, following my gaze.

  I stifled a smile. “Shut up.”

  5

  GREYSON

  I stood up, pressing my knuckles to my lower back and groaning.

  Molly darted out from behind a pile of boxes with one finger on her forehead. She let out a loud “Neigh!” and then looked up at me as I continued to work the kink out of my back, groaning loudly. “That’s the noise old people make,” she said.

  “You’re a talking unicorn, now?”

  “I’m magic. I can do anything.”

  “Can you unpack all the toys you brought in your room with some of that magic?” I asked.

  “I haven’t picked a room yet, silly.” She ran off in a kind of running gallop. A few moments later, I heard the gentle thumps of her feet upstairs.

  My grandfather had been running this little inn for over sixty years, but the building was older than that. It originally belonged to a wealthy man who moved to Fairhope in the 1800s with his mistress. The house was an old colonial style with original wooden beams, dark paneling throughout, and eccentric wallpaper that varied from room to room. The floorboards creaked and the windows were drafty, but there was almost always a fire roaring in the common room and free coffee and hot chocolate by the front desk.

  Coming from our life in D.C., this place felt like the moment you slip on a pair of noise canceling headphones in a busy cafe. At least if your noise canceling headphones still let in unicorn sounds and little boys who wouldn’t stop rolling things down the staircase.

  “Billy!” I shouted in the rough direction of the sounds. “You’re going to break something.”

  “I know!” He replied cheerily.

  I couldn’t help grinning a little. The kid really was just like I’d been at that age. I was also grinning because this inn felt more like home than anywhere else ever had. My real home was a penthouse full of expensive artwork and things we weren’t supposed to touch. It was like living in a showroom. A showroom where my brothers and I were supposed to be shining additions to my father’s collection of impressive things. Naturally, Zack and I had gone on to disappoint tremendously. Only our youngest brother, Patrick, had earned my father’s approval.

  I may have earned a tremendous amount of money, but I didn’t do it in a field that my father deemed worthy. Thus, I was just as much of a disappointment as if I’d been eating out of trash cans.

  “This is all you brought?” Zack asked. My brother was tall like me but wore his beard thicker and embraced the whole small town mountain man aesthetic. He had the Ashford eyebrows–thick, pure black streaks above narrow blue-gray eyes. Even though he looked like he spent his time chopping down trees in remote forests, I knew he was closer to a tree hugger. He spent all his time wandering around the woods looking for injured animals to rescue and rehabilitate at his center in town. It was a petting zoo slash educational center, and he ran the place with the help of a single employee who could give tours when he was out in the field.

  “We’re only going to be here for three months,” I said. “No point bringing our whole lives along.”

  Zack shrugged. “This is what, like twenty boxes? You hired a moving company for this?”

 

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