Page 39 of Stuck with the Hero Next Door

“He’s retired,” I said. “Which basically means he spends his time looking for excuses not to deal with paperwork. You’re doing him a favor.”

She stood, the apple forgotten. “I wanted to see the inside again.”

“You saw it once. Not much has changed. Still has floors, a roof, and old furniture that smells like mothballs.”

“And the raccoons?”

I grinned. “Only mildly aggressive.”

She laughed, light and surprised. I’d caught her off guard. “Okay. When can I move in?”

“Today, if you’re up for it.”

Her brows lifted. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Nope.” I handed her the key. “We’ll take my truck.”

She stared at the little metal key resting in her hand. “This is really happening.” She wiggled around excitedly.

“Yep,” I said, watching her expression shift—hesitation, wonder, then excitement.

She looked up at me. “Thank you.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Cassie flung herself at me, testing my reflexes. Shocked by her excitement, I caught her mid-air and held her tight. Her strawberries-and-cream scent wafted by me, and her arms wrapped a little tighter around me. The moment was over too soon. I was reluctant to let her go. She belonged in my arms, tucked in close.

Then, with a stubborn little sigh, she slid back to the ground and looked up at me. Her eyes were filled with hope. It would have been too easy to dip down, take full advantage of the last six inches, and plant a light kiss on her lips. She was so close, and her arms were still wound tight around my waist. I bent forward slightly, heart pounding in my chest, breath caught in my throat, but the curtain next to the front door fluttered aside, and I looked up just in time to see Janet retreat from the window. My shoulders dropped, and I sighed with resignation.

Living in a small town means nothing goes unnoticed.

Cassie looked at me, puzzled. I nodded toward the window, and realization flickered across her face. She stepped back—shy and a little timid. Just like that, the moment passed, leaving only a faint thread of tension in its wake.

I didn’t let the pause linger too long. “Anytime.” I inhaled, my breath ragged. The two of us were still caught in the what ifs.

Mentally shaking my head, I tried to pull the moment together. “You grab your bags, and I’ll pull the truck around.”

The plan was simple: drive her out to the cottage, swing by Jordan’s garage where all of Cassie’s worldly goods were still hidden under a tarp in the bed of her old truck, head out to the cottage, and unload the truck, maybe help hang a curtain rod or two. But Everwood had other ideas.

We hadn’t even made it two blocks back into town after leaving Jordan’s—the truck bed now crammed half-full of Cassie’s stuff—when Edie from the hardware store flagged us down with a box full of lightbulbs, nails, and “spare hooks I found in the back, just in case.” She set it in the truck bed with a little bounce in her step, then patted Cassie’s arm like she was passing on a blessing.

Passing the bakery, Dot came hurrying out in her apron, flour on her cheek, and a warm loaf wrapped in a dish towel. “You’ll need breakfast tomorrow,” she said, tucking the bread beside the mop. “And something to make the place smell like home.”

Two minutes later, Mac from the diner handed over a half-dozen mismatched mugs and a used coffee maker. “Figured you’d want coffee gear,” he said with a wink. “Levi’s got opinions, but now you’ll have options.”

By the time we hit Main Street’s far end, the truck bed looked like a small moving parade. A folding chair. An old set of measuring spoons. A potted plant in a cracked ceramic pot someone had tried to glue back together—twice.

Cassie sat in the passenger seat, arms full of a donated quilt and a box of books someone had labeled “extras.” She blinked at me, stunned.

“Did you... organize this?” she asked, glancing around like maybe the trees had conspired too.

I shook my head. “Everwood’s grapevine works faster than wildfire. You can bet Bob called his fishing buddies down in Florida. Mom and the knitting club helped clean. It was a town event.”

“And this is what happens every day in Everwood.”

“That’s about right,” I said, turning onto the gravel road between the cottage and my ranch. “You should’ve seen what they did when Dot’s niece moved in last fall. Someone showed up with a puppy.”

Cassie laughed, but her eyes shone too brightly to be just amusement. She pressed her lips together and looked down at the quilt in her lap.

“They don’t even know me,” she whispered.