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“Good idea.” He looks at my sneakers. “It’ll be muddy,” he warns me with raised eyebrows.
“My shoes can handle a little mud,” I retort, sassily marching away from Matt and in the direction of the main road.
For the next several minutes, we wind our way carefully down the side road toward the main one. All around us, birds chirp wildly while a light breeze shakes the trees. Except for the dozens of fallen branches and intense mud, it’s hard to tell there have been massive storms.
Then, we come across a fallen tree, blocking the entire width of the main road down the mountain. Matt and I stand there, surveying the situation.
“Well, shit,” he finally says.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound concerned.” Matt looks at me quizzically.
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I guess I just want you to have to stick around for a while.”
Matt laughs indulgently, the happy sound booming through the quiet woods.
“You mean you thought I’d leave you to burn down the rest of the cabin? No way lady, I’m sticking it out for a few days yet. Besides,” he gestures to the fallen tree, “we don’t have much choice in the matter anyways.”
I grin widely, pleased that Matt is going to stay.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I know the county storm crew comes down this road every few days, so they’ll have that tree cleared out before too long.”
“Let’s hope they don’t work too fast.” Matt takes my hand and pulls me toward a wooded trail. “Do you know your way around here?”
I smile sunnily at him.
“Definitely. I grew up coming here every summer, remember?” With that, still holding Matt’s hand, I lead us through various woodsy trails. As we hike, we talk and I find myself revealing tidbits about myself to this man that I’ve never told anyone else.
“What inspired the bookstore?” Matt asks me when we stop at a stunning vista. “Hearts and Heroes is a very romantic name.”
I grin.
“I know, it’s sappy. But I love romance. And I love to read, and I’ve dabbled in writing.” I shrug. “It was a crazy idea, and some days it seems impossible to run a business, but I don’t regret opening the store. It keeps me on my toes.”
Matt looks at me carefully and I think I read admiration in his eyes. I blush and look away.
“Do you think you’ll ever write your own romance book?” he asks lightly. My heart pitter-patters and I think carefully before answering.
“I’ve wanted to, for so long, but it never seemed like I had the time,” is my slow answer. “I always got one chapter in, and then gave up after life happened.”
He squeezes my hand.
“Life is always happening,” he remarks casually. “But I think you have it in you to dream up some heroes and heroines for your own book, if that’s what you want.”
My heart leaps and joy suffuses my form.
“Do you really think so?” I ask shyly.
Matt turns to look at me, and the fire burning in his blue eyes makes my heart contract sharply on its own.
“Yes,” he says. “Sweetheart, I believe in you. Everything I’ve seen so far about you, Cora, tells me that you have a book in you. Not just one book, but maybe even two or three romance novels.”
I smile brilliantly, my heart in my throat. I don’t know what I did to deserve this man, but I feel incredibly lucky to be with him.
We continue on the walk for another hour or so. The hike is relatively easy, and we take our time, ambling through dense trees and rocky paths, our conversation at turns light-hearted and serious. Before I know it, an entire day has passed in his company.
“We better start heading back,” he eventually says, his gaze turned upward toward the sky. “We don’t know how long this good weather is going to hold.”
Overhead, gray clouds are forming, an ominous promise of more storms to come. Matt and I link hands again and make our way toward the cabin. We arrive home, and I’m exhausted and yet extraordinarily happy.
The next several days together follow this same pattern – morning sex, breakfast, a walk if the weather is decent, a quick check in if the downed tree is moved, and lots of conversations. We talk about our passions, and I develop a newfound respect for Matt.
“So you always wanted to be an architect?” I ask.
“Since I was a kid. Bugged my parents to no end. They thought I should be a doctor, but I’m better with buildings than people.”
“Yeah, I don’t believe that,” I tease. “You’re good with people.”
He pulled me close and clasped his arms around me.
“I’m good with you,” he growls in my ear. “Now come on Missy,” he rasps. “It’s time for bed for bad girls.”
I let out a squeal of delight as he chases me into the bedroom, our antics ending far too pleasurably. But it wasn’t just the good things. We also talked about the bad things, and what keeps us up at night.
