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Potential Phail for sure.
Why would anyone name a town Phail? The constant jokes must be exhausting.
The GPS shows only a mile to go. Buffy was going to make it.
Another clunk sounded, and Aisling didn’t have a clue what it might mean. She might be able to change the oil and tires, but she’d never taken the time to learn more than that.
Wood had always called to her soul, not metal.
But Phail must have a mechanic where she could take Buffy once she’d had a chance to rest for a day or so.
Aisling knew Tansy’s property was like a fairy tale. Thirty plus acres of prime Vermont wilderness holding a century old fly-in fishing lodge on the edge of Midnight Lake. And out near the road, a sawmill that predated that. And potentially a blacksmith shop, although her friend hadn’t opened that building yet to confirm it.
Working on the old lodge for the next few months was going to be a true pleasure for Aisling.
A rickety old fence appeared on the roadside, and Aisling let out a cheer. “Almost there, Buffy! Isn’t it gorgeous here? It feels like coming home.”
Which was weird because Aisling had been born and raised in Sacramento. Since leaving it abruptly five years before, she’d traveled to small towns and big cities alike, restoring old homes and furniture. Building a business from scratch because her other one had been stolen from under her.
Leaving Sacramento had been difficult but it had been the right call.
Aisling smirked. She’d made two good calls that night. Leaving town and having her one and only one-night-stand before she hit the road.
With a gorgeous man who’d been as kind as he’d been charming.
Mind-blowing, memorable sex unlike anything she’d experienced before or after.
Jolly had been one of a kind.
How many times over the years had she wished she’d asked for his name?
How many times had she relived that night?
Decadent, sexy, perfect.
She’d probably blown the whole thing up in her memory, but Jolly had been exactly what she’d needed at the lowest point of her life.
There been such a strong connection, she’d hoped to talk to him in the morning, learn his name, get his number.
But he’d been gone.
Aisling was pretty sure he’d enjoyed the night as much as she had, but maybe she’d scared him off. Or bored him.
Or maybe he was a player who did one-night-stands every weekend.
He probably didn’t remember the night at all, but it was her favorite memory to savor on difficult days.
A driveway and gate came into view, and Aisling grinned. “We’re here, Buffy. We made it.”
She pulled Buffy up to the gate and left her running while she hopped out and grabbed the key out of her pocket.
Tansy had mailed her the key, told her where to park, and left instructions on where to find the trail.
Actually, Tansy had told Aisling to call her so she could meet her at the parking lot, but Aisling was looking forward to the hike. And she wanted a look at the sawmill first. It would only be from the outside, but she couldn’t wait to see it and start imagining her workshop.
It was a two-mile hike to the lodge, so she’d need another workspace there, but working in a hundred-year-old sawmill was an opportunity she refused to pass up.
Aisling pushed open the gate and pulled Buffy onto the dirt track, then jumped out to relock the gate behind them.
