His hand finds my sleeve. “Thank you.”
I’m still adjusting to the fact that I’m standing in the middle of Stonevale’s bustling farmers market when two familiar faces appear. Dominic and Elijah, Levi’s friends. I’d practically sprinted out of their Valentine’s bash so I’m sure that’s left a lasting impression.They approach the booth in step, sunglasses shielding their eyes, composed in the way of people who’ve always been comfortable in a crowd.
“It’s almost time,” Dominic announces. Dramatically.
Levi perks up instantly, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. “Already?” He checks his watch, then turns to me. “You’re in luck. Today’s the town’s annual soup cook-off.”
I blink, like I’m supposed to know what that is. “The…what now?”
“The Stonevale Souper Bowl,” Elijah adds like this is sacred knowledge. “Biggest event of the season. Rivals that one sporting event, honestly.”
Levi nudges Elijah with his elbow. “Let’s manage expectations here…but I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.” He glances at Naomi, who’s still manning the flower booth, clipboard tucked under her arm. “You good to hold down the fort for a little bit?”
She waves him off like he’s insulting her competence. “I’ve got this.”
“You peoplereallyhost a soup competition in the middle of the workday?” I ask.
Levi grins. “Stonevale believes in priorities, sir. Soup first, capitalism second.”
And just like that, I’m swept into something I neither signed up for nor fully understand.
• • •
I don’t knowhow it happened.
One minute I’m walking beside Levi, the next I’m standing in the brightly lit chaos of Stonevale High’s gymnasium, surrounded by folding tables, slow cookers, and the inescapable scent of simmering broth.
Knife in hand, a pile of carrots waiting to be decimated. Finally, a system.
“How did I get here?” I mutter to no one in particular.
Levi leans over, tossing a handful of herbs into a giant pot without a care in the world. “Youvolunteered.”
“That’s a bold take on what actually happened.”
He shrugs, unbothered, his sleeves rolled up and strong forearms on full display. “Same thing.”
I focus on the carrots, chopping with meticulous precision. Each piece is uniform, perfectly diced like the vegetables might judge me if I get it wrong. Levi is the opposite. No measurements, just vibes. Stirring, gesturing, talking to everyone, and somehow not burning anything.
It’s…admittedly sexy. Which is, frankly, inconvenient for soup. Because order keeps me functional but Levi’s brand of chaos makes me feel alive. It’s only fitting he’d provide both.
I’m mid-chop when my gaze drifts across the gym and freezes.
Irene.
MyIrene. The woman who schedules my life, runs my funeral home, and occasionally reminds me that paperwork is not, in fact, optional.
She’s here. Apron on. Name embroidered.
I set the knife down and make my way over, dodging stray toddlers and overly eager soup enthusiasts.
“Irene?” I say, half expecting her to vanish like an apparition. She doesn’t even flinch. Just keeps stirring her pot with laser focus. “What are you doing here?”
Without looking up, she replies, “Maintaining precedent.”
I blink. “I thought you had the day off.”
“And?” She finally spares me a glance, arching an eyebrow. “This is what I do with it.”
