Chapter One
Daphne
The first thing I noticed when I opened the front door was the smell. The fresh, green scent of pine and earth, mixed with the crispness of the morning air. A scent that had become as familiar to me as my own skin over the past five years. The cabin was quiet, the way I liked it. The birds were singing, the trees swayed slightly in the early spring breeze, and for a moment, I thought about going back to bed.
But that wasn’t an option. Not today.
Today, I had a market to prepare for. Tomorrow was the beginning of the weekend market so I had things to do.
I stepped out onto the porch, pausing to stretch and inhale the peace around me. I had no need for company, or for anything more than what this cabin, this land, gave me. My hands ran over the rough wood of the railing as I glanced at the garden behind me—rows of leafy greens, budding herbs, and flowers in every color I could imagine. All my work, all my effort, and it was all for me. I didn’t care about anything outside this haven.
Grabbing the basket I’d left by the door the night before,I got to work picking the herbs. Lavender, rosemary, sage... Thescent of them filled the air and mingled with the surrounding forest. For a while, it was just me and the world I’d created. No expectations, no pressure.
Then, just as I was reaching for the last bundle of basil, I heard a truck rumbling down the road. My heart skipped a beat. The sound was so out of place in this quiet little corner of the world, and for a moment, I held my breath, hoping it would pass by without stopping.
But no such luck.
The truck came to a halt just beyond my gate, its tires kicking up dust as it parked. I glanced up, trying to ignore the uneasy flutter in my chest. There was no reason for me to be on edge. After all, I lived out here alone for a reason—because I liked it that way. Still, I couldn’t deny the flicker of curiosity that bubbled inside me.
A man stepped out of the truck, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a flannel shirt that strained against the muscles of his chest. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his jaw had the kind of scruff that probably came from a week of not bothering with a razor. But it was the way he carried himself—confident, yet relaxed—that caught my attention. I could tell he wasn’t from around here. At least, not frommylittle corner of the world.
I watched as he walked toward the truck bed, pulling out what looked like some kind of large equipment, then pausing to glance around.
I quickly averted my eyes, returning to the basil, trying to pretend I hadn’t noticed the newcomer. He’d probably just be passing through, I reasoned. Maybe a contractor or someone working on the roads. This was rural land, after all. People showed up from time to time for all sorts of reasons.
That’s when I heard the voice.
“Morning!” The shout was cheery, a little too loud for my liking.
I didn’t immediately respond, my heart picking up pace at the unexpected greeting. But after a moment of hesitation, I gave a small wave in return. “Morning.”
I glanced up just enough to see him smile back, his expression easy, almost amused. But there was something else in his eyes—something that felt far too knowing for someone I didn’t recognize.
“I’m Garrett,” he said, taking a step toward me, clearly not in a rush. “You live here?”
I blinked, a little thrown off by his casual approach. I wasn’t exactly used to strangers making small talk with me, especially out here. “Yeah,” I said, my voice a little quieter than usual. “I do.”
He seemed to take the one-word response in stride, his smile widening. “This place looks amazing,” he said, looking past me at the garden. “Is that all your work?”
I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have this conversation. “It is. Just the basics. Herbs, flowers, vegetables.”
His gaze flicked down to the basket in my hands. “You sell any of it?” he asked, voice casual but interested.
“Market day’s tomorrow,” I replied, hoping that would end the conversation. I wasn’t a fan of sharing too much with strangers. There was a reason I lived out here, and it wasn’t for small talk.
"Out at Haven's Rest or do you go over to Lake Vera area?" Garrett said, leaning against his truck. "I've been looking for some local produce. New to the area."
I felt my shoulders tense at the mention of the area names. Of course he would know about the local markets—that meant he wasn't just passing through. My grip tightened on the basket handle as I processed this information. New to the area. That could mean anything from a few weeks to a few months, and either way, it suggested he might be sticking around.
"Haven's Rest," I said, keeping my voice neutral. The last thing I wanted was to encourage more questions about my routine or my business.
Garrett's eyes lit up at the mention of Haven's Rest, and I couldn’t help but feel a small, unwelcome flicker of irritation. I didn’t know why I was reacting this way—there was nothing particularly off about his tone or demeanor. It was just thatfeeling. The one I couldn’t shake, the sudden unease that crept up my spine like a shadow. It wasn’t him, I told myself. It was me.
“Well, I’ll have to stop by tomorrow then,” he said with a grin, as if he’d already made up his mind. “I’ve been looking for something more local than what the grocery store has to offer.”
I nodded slowly, hoping he’d take the hint.
But then, to my surprise, Garrett didn’t leave. Instead, he just stood there, smiling like he was waiting for something, as if my small, quiet life wasn’t exactly what it appeared to be. My stomach churned in discomfort. The openness of his gaze, the way he seemed entirely unbothered by my reluctance—it was like he wastoocomfortable, too natural in a place where strangers didn’t linger.
