Page 8 of Oops I Fell For The Lumberjack Next Door

She writes it down on the back of a moving box with a Sharpie. Doesn't look up. "Got it."

"Night."

"Goodnight."

I collect my heartbroken dog and walk back through the trees to my cabin. Inside, it's warm. Clean. Quiet in a way that used to feel chosen and lately feels empty. Tinsel curls up in front of the woodstove, his favorite spot, and sighs with his whole body.

My phone buzzes on the counter.

Mom:

Heard the new neighbor moved in. Bringing a welcome basket tomorrow. Is she nice? Is she single? You should introduce yourself.

Mom. She'd have this woman married to me by Thanksgiving if I let her within fifty feet of the situation.

Me:

Already met her. She's settling in.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Mom:

And?????

Me:

And nothing, Mom. She's my neighbor.

Mom:

We'll see about that.

I put the phone face down. Lean against the counter. Through the kitchen window, I can see Margot's cabin. One light on in the kitchen. Her shadow moving behind the glass as she unpacks boxes.

Fifteen years ago, I fell for a woman I couldn't have.

She's forty feet away now. Still furious. Still convinced I'm the villain of her story. Still pushing her glasses up with one finger in a way that makes my hands ache.

And I'm still the man who fixes things because he doesn't know another way to say what he means.

Tomorrow I'm going to look at that porch. Whether she asks me to or not.

CHAPTER THREE

MARGOT

Four days in Whisper Vale, and Briggs Holloway has fixed my pipes, run a garden hose through my kitchen window, replaced three cabinet hinges, left a bag of groceries on my side door step without knocking, and hauled away the remains of my front porch with nothing more than a truck, a crowbar, and forearms that should be classified as a public safety hazard.

I didn't ask for any of it.

He just does things. Shows up at seven in the morning with tools, works for two hours, leaves without lingering. No small talk beyond what's necessary. No questions about my life, my divorce, why I'm here. Just a man with a truck full of lumber who keeps finding reasons to be on my property.

It's infuriating.

It's also the reason I can walk through my own front door without falling through the floor, so there's that.

The plumber came Tuesday. Ray Castellano, exactly who Briggs recommended. Quiet guy, efficient, replaced the cracked pipe in under an hour, assessed the rest of the system, told me I'd need a full replumb before winter but the patch would hold for now. He charged me half of what I'd budgeted. When I tried to pay more, he said any neighbor of Briggs's was a friend of his and left before I could argue.