Harper
“It’s important you learn how to do these things for yourself.”My father's words ring in my ears as I work a ratchet back and forth, repairing my bike on the side of the road. “You can’t rely on a man to save you. You need to be strong enough to rescue yourself in any situation.”
Giving the bolt a final turn, I drop the ratchet back in my tool kit and wipe my grease-covered hands on the sides of my jeans. As I climb back on my bike, I have to wonder about the wisdom of my father. Sure, it’s made me strong and independent, and I’ve never neededanyoneto save me. But at the same time, I find that being so strong and independent also means I’m quite lonely. If you don’tneedanyone, they inevitably walk away. People like to be needed. Personally, I’d be happy with just being wanted occasionally, but that doesn’t seem to be a thing in my world either. I’m quite the loner.
Starting the engine, I check over my shoulder before I merge back onto the long stretch of road that leads to my final destination, Cedarwood Valley. It’s a small town of less than two thousand people and is situated right next to a slightly larger town called Oakwood Falls—which is where I’ll be working. From all the pictures I’ve seen, it’s all rolling hills, farmland, and tall trees. It looks beautiful, and I think it’ll do this city girl a world of good. Fresh air and mountain ranges—what’s not to like?
After hours on the road, I finally hit the main street in my new town. It’s exactly as I expected—a grocery store, a bakery, a hardware store, diner, and a few other specialty stores that cover all the basics a person needs.Perfect. I’ve spent all of my thirty-seven years in the city, and this tree change is exactly what I need to help change direction. My lonely heart has spent countless hours on a loop being hopeful then disappointed about finding love in a concrete jungle. You get to a point where you just don’t want to hope any more. You want quiet. You want peace. You want acceptance in your own heart that this may be your lot in life. Which is why I’ve packed up everything I owned and headed out here. It’s time to be comfortable and happy inside myself. And being single isn’t that bad. I quite enjoy my own company. I do…
“Harper, is it?” The real estate agent, a woman with dark brown hair pulled back in a tight bun, meets me as soon as I pull into the driveway of my new home. It’s a two-bedroom cottage with a workshop out back and a great view of the mountain range. This is the first time I’ve seen it in person, and it’s just as adorable as it looked online.
“That’s me,” I say, sticking my hand out to shake hers. I’m pretty sure she recoils at the sight of grease caught in my cracked hands, but since she’s a professional, she still takes the hand I offer.
She’s smiling, but I can’t help but notice the way her eyes widen as she takes me in. I’m quite the imposing figure. Six foot one, solid as a rock, with long auburn hair that I secure in a tight braid because it has a mind of its own. And that’s all before you take in the grease-stained jeans, leather jacket, and bicycle helmet under my arm. I’m told I’m quite intimidating at first glance.
“Sorry about that,” I add, noting the way she attempts to wipe her hands surreptitiously at her side. “The bike had some issues on the way, and I haven’t had a chance to wash up yet.”
“It’s no bother at all. I’m sure you’re dying to get into your new home to do just that.” She forces her smile to meet her eyes as she holds out an envelope. “Here’s all your paperwork and your keys. I let the movers in there a couple of days ago, and everything looks to be in order. I also took the liberty of providing you with a little welcome to Cedarwood Valley pack. Which I’m sure you’ll be grateful for. It’s nothing too exciting, just some nibbles and things to make tea and coffee.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I say, taking the envelope and feeling the weight of the keys hit my palm.
“Just us being hospitable to a newcomer.” Her eyes move from my face to my boot-covered toes and back up again. “We’re a tight-knit community, Miss Jones.”
“OK?” I say slowly, trying to smile even though that felt a lot like an insult. “And can I ask what that even means?” I’ve spent a lot of my years defending my chosen career as a bike mechanic, defending my looks, my size—even my sexuality—that I’ve become well attuned to the disapproving gaze I’m currently being scrutinized with.
“Nothing untoward.” That fake smile of hers gets wider. “Small towns have their charm, which is why city folks like yourself tend to move out here at times. But it also means that everyone is up in your business. I have a feeling you and your Harley are about to cause quite the stir.”
“That’s a horribly unnecessary thing to say to someone the first time you meet them,” I say, pinching my brow together.
“I think it would be worse if Ididn’twarn you, Miss Jones,” she says pointedly before excusing herself and getting into her car.
