Page 10 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

“Serenaded?”

Levi leaned in as if he were sharing the codes for nuclear warfare. “Rumor has it, Will sings to the ribeye at dawn. Just low enough that the bacon doesn’t get jealous.”

I laughed and took a bite. The flavor exploded on my tongue—peppery, smoky, and exactly the kind of comfort food you didn’t know you needed until you were halfway through it.

“Okay,” I said between bites. “I take it back. I’m staying in Everwood. I’ll live in the broom closet at the inn and make cornbread for rent.”

Levi smirked. “That closet’s got a waiting list.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Everwood doesn’t joke about food or storage space. Janet’s pretty cutthroat.”

I reached for another piece of cornbread, brushing fingers with his at the edge of the basket. We both paused—not long, not dramatic—but just enough to notice. He didn’t pull away. Neither did I.

Outside the window, the porch lights twinkled like fireflies caught in mason jars. Inside, Will’s buzzed with quiet comfort—low conversation, clinking glasses, the familiar drawl of live old country music humming in the background. It felt like being inside someone’s memory of home.

Levi tipped his milk glass toward me. “So, what’s your story, Cassie? Other than being brave enough to eat steak with a stranger.”

“I was promised cornbread. I consider that informed consent.”

He grinned. “Still counts.”

I toyed with my fork, glancing around the room. “You know, I didn’t think places like this existed outside of Hallmark movies. Where the hostess knows your shoe size and the steaks come with life advice.”

Levi chuckled. “Marcie’s not bad, but her advice depends on the day. Tuesday, she told me to buy a goat.”

“Why?”

“She didn’t say. Just pointed at me with a spatula and said, ‘Goat. Trust me.’”

I laughed harder than I have in a while, drawing a glance from the table behind us. Levi just looked pleased with himself, like he’d pulled off a minor miracle. Maybe he had. Because somewhere between the steak, the banter, and the warmth of a town, I forgot to be on guard.

For the first time since I pulled into Everwood, I wasn’t thinking about Miller’s Pass. Or following through with a vague life plan I honestly hadn’t thought through very well.

But I only mentioned Miller’s Pass once during dinner, and Levi didn’t ask for particulars. How’s that for easygoing?

I was just...here. In a steakhouse with a quiet, charming man who made milk seem cool and who looked at me like I wasn’t some broken thing passing through.

Maybe that was enough—for now.

By the time we finished eating, I was officially two bites past full and one compliment away from declaring myself a permanent Everwood resident. Levi wiped his hands with a paper napkin that dissolved on contact, then leaned back in the booth like a man thoroughly satisfied with his life choices.

“I’m starting to think you’re secretly the mayor,” I said, sipping the last of my water. “People kept waving at you like you just saved their cat from a tree.”

He looked genuinely confused. “I did save a cat from a tree. Last Thursday. Mr. Tibbs. Lives over the hardware store. Kind of a jerk.”

“The cat?”

“The owner. The cat’s fine. Hates me, but he’s fine.”

I grinned. “You’re like a walking brochure for this town. Saving animals, feeding the best cornbread west of wherever to stranded redheads…”

“That’s ‘the best cornbread east of wherever.’ And besides, you forgot the chili cook-off judge. And substitute gym teacher.”

My eyes widened. “Please tell me you wear a whistle.”

“Only on Mondays,” he said solemnly.