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Chapter 1
Arya
Thesmoky,mouth-wateringscentof bacon surrounded me as soon as I opened William and Grace’s door. They weren’t early birds, so I wondered who could have started breakfast this early.
I walked in, closing the white door behind me. The small window on the front door sliced the space with only a narrow beam of sunlight and my eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness. I could barely see the photos that hung on the wall that was painted an ancient-looking dusty rose. I knew every picture on the wall by heart. They featured William and Grace’s children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. It was proof of their fulfilling life.
I sighed, thinking about how different my life was from theirs. After finishing nursing school, I was stuck. I thought I was following a dream–I wanted a happy, fulfilling life, too–but was having trouble getting it started.
I took a deep breath and set out to find the source of the delicious smell.
Walking into the open living room and kitchen felt like being transported back to 1962. This was where William and Grace had raised their kids–and some of their grandkids–and they refused to change anything about their home. Vibrant florals and faded colors on the furniture gave a nostalgic, classic feel. The worn-in sofa and chairs in the living room were just another reminder of the love and joy that this house had seen over the decades. Trails from little feet were burned into the now-faded blue rug.
I stopped mid-stride as I saw a gorgeous shirtless man facing the stove. The sun poured in from the window to his left, like a spotlight he didn’t need.
Tristan.
My palms were suddenly sweaty and a swarm of butterflies came alive in my stomach. My knees started slowly turning to jelly, and it took all of my power to remain upright as my heart started racing. I planted my hand on the butcher block countertop to steady myself.
How was it possible that he still made me feel this way after all these years?
His wife was so lucky.
Noticing my presence–and probably my shameless staring–he turned to face me, spatula in hand. A smile slowly spread across his face, coming to rest at full megawatt.
The years had been kind to him.
His boyish looks had long disappeared, and he was now all lean muscle with a smattering of crisp dark brown hair over tanned skin. His hair was wet, probably from a shower.
And then I saw his eyes. Those deep, chocolate brown eyes were exactly how I remembered them. They sparkled with life and when he smiled, his eyes smiled, too. It was what I had always liked most about him.
Oh boy, when did it get so hot in here, I wondered.
“Arya McKenna.” The way he said my name had the butterflies in my stomach fluttering even faster. His smile turned into a sexy smirk and oh my god, I hated when he did that. I hated it because, really, I loved it. It made me weak. He looked way too good and had a way of making me feel like I was the only person in the world.
“Tristan Adler.” I forced my voice to stay cool and unaffected. Beaming back at him, I hoped I was able to hide just how nervous I was.
“I didn’t know you were around,” I said, as I dropped my bag on one of the wooden chairs at the counter and walked around the island. "I can't believe you're here… It's been a long time." He put down his spatula, still showing his gorgeous smile, and pulled me into an all-encompassing hug. I melted inside and didn't want it to end, but tried to keep my cool. I pulled back when I thought it was a respectable period of time for a friendly hug.
“I’ve been around for a few days now,” he said, picking up the spatula again and turning back to the sizzling bacon on the stove. I took the moment to appreciate how the muscles in his back bunched and stretched with each of his movements.
“A few days?” I asked him, surprised, and a little confused. “How come I haven’t seen you around here?”
“I was at my parents’ house.” He looked back at me with a tight smile.
Tristan had a terrible relationship with his parents, which was why he liked to spend most of his time here at his grandparents’ place, even when we were growing up. They were easygoing and not the slightest bit interested in keeping up with others, unlike Tristan’s parents.
The Adlers owned the biggest bourbon distillery in Bardstown, Kentucky, and the business had been in their family for eight generations. When people thought of Bardstown, they thought of the Adler Distillery, and Tristan's parents wanted to ensure the Adler family was without a blemish. They forced Tristan to keep up with appearances, which he hated. As an only child, they expected him to be the perfect son, and because of that pressure, he often stayed with his grandparents instead. We lived next door to William and Grace, and since my brother Mason was the same age, it was only natural that they became friends.
Tristan was always hanging out with Mason, and to him, I've always just been his best friend’s little sister. I wondered if he ever noticed that I had a huge crush on him back then–and maybe still now.
“So, you’ll be staying here?” I tried to make it sound everyday conversation as my heart was still beating out of my chest.
“Gram needs me,” he said, moving the bacon from the pan to the paper towel-lined plate on the counter. “And I’m sure you could use some help around here.” He winked at me.
I loved Tristan’s grandparents. I’d known them all my life, and they had been like family to me, too. When I had finished my degree, I wanted to stay in Bardstown. I couldn't even get a job at the local nursing home; all the nurses there had their jobs for life. They did take pity on me and hired me for casual work, but it was nothing I could sink my teeth into.
As William and Grace aged, Tristan's parents offered me a job as a private nurse to take care of them. I have to admit that I missed the variety of people I got to meet at the nursing home, but since William and Grace were like family, the transition had been pretty easy. The more consistent paycheck didn't hurt either. I knew this wasn't going to be forever, but it was great for now, while I charted my next steps.
