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Caroline scoffs. “Who needs fighting skills when I have a giant muscly husband who can do the beating on my behalf?”
“I thought Josh told you to stop entering him into duels.”
My best friend has a tendency to let her rambunctious personality get the best of her and at times that means others get angry with her or she gets angry with them first. This leads to her yelling loudly for everyone to hear that her husband will beat them up. Josh is not fond of this little habit of hers.
“Yes, he did, but you’re the exception to the rule and he knows it. You know if something was really wrong we’d be there as fast as we could.” I smile as warmth spreads through my chest.
Caroline has been my best friend since we were in preschool. She was the only person I was sad to leave behind in California. She’s also the only one who knows where I live now. So to have her on my side helps ease some of the loneliness that has plagued me over the last year.
The first few years after moving to Peach Hollow were full of life and joy. I relished in the weight of my circumstances being lifted. But now, I look around and see I’ve made few connections here. I need friends that don’t live thousands of miles away. I also wouldn’t mind having a boyfriend, but that seems far-fetched for someone who hasn’t dated since high school.
“I know, Care. But nothing is wrong, he was just a little moody is all.”
Truthfully, I’m more frustrated with my reaction to his stern voice than his gruff refusal of my help. I can’t be too mad at him for telling me not to pick up trash, but I can be mad at myself for the ditzy butterflies that arose when he saidstopin that deep, silky voice of his. I responded to him in such a bland way to manage his heightened emotions, but also to manage my own. If I remained monotone it wouldn’t betray the girlish fancies plaguing my mind.
“What do your spidey senses think of him?”
I groan and the noise makes Murphy look up from his study of the grass. “You’ve got to quit calling it that.”
“Would you rather me ask what your intense observancy and forced empathy that stems from childhood trauma revealed to you about him?”
I snort and shake my head even though she can’t see me. “Thatisa mouthful.”
“Exactly. So, what was his vibe?”
Murphy abandons his leaf investigation and we continue our walk again. There are a few residents that we pass who I nod to with a smile. I glance down at the watch on my wrist to be sure we’re making good time. While I love letting Murphy explore, I’ll haul him back to the house if it means avoiding the dark.
“He wasn’t trying to intimidate me in a cruel way in either of our interactions, but he also wants nothing to do with me. Doesn’t seem like much of a people person. I mean, he moved to Peach Hollow and he looks like he’s around thirty. That would lend to him wanting to avoid most social interactions considering everyone here is elderly and only leaves home to go to the market or church.”
“You moved to Peach Hollow and you aren’t a total hermit.”
“I moved here to escape, Care. That’s different.”
“Do you think he could be escaping something too?”
I lift my eyes and gaze across the lake at Adrian’s cottage. There are no lights on inside. He’s usually not home until after dark; sometimes I’m already in bed when he pulls into his driveway. I know the sound of his return well. The soft purr of the sports car’s engine, he opens and shuts two different car doors, then soft footsteps as he walks inside his house. All of his movements are quiet, but in the silence of Peach Hollow they’re easy for me to pick up.
“He’s rarely home, so I’m not sure if this is much of a sanctuary for him. I don’t think his being here is a secret, either.”
I’ve heard people coming and going over the short amount of time that he’s lived here. Bitterness has only risen up a time or two at the thought that a man so surly could have visitors while I’ve never had any. It’s easy to tamp down those feelings though, because I know it’s my fault. I could have built a different life here in Georgia, but I chose this one because it felt safer. Maybe if I would have taken more risks, I’d have a whole friend group and even a boyfriend–or maybe a husband–by now.
“Well, I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful.”
No, she doesn’t. I’ve beencarefulmy entire life. Even my escape from California was painstakingly cautious. Not for the first time, I wonder what it would feel like to be carefree.
Warm air scented with cinnamon and nutmeg washes over me as I enter my favorite café, Peaches and Cream. I’ve visited Atlanta–orthe cityas it’s called here in Peach Hollow–plenty of times, and no café there compares to this one. The pastries are delicious beyond belief and the tea selection is always rotating, making it the perfect place to try new things. It’s run by Poppy Wilkes, a fifty-year-old woman with a demeanor sweet enough that you’d think she was a pastry herself.
Poppy smiles at me from behind the counter, and her warm welcome gives me a false sense of security. That security is ripped from me when I spot none other than my stoic neighbor himself at the counter. It’s not like I thought we wouldn’t run into each other eventually, but he’s been elusive all week. I didn’t expect to see him at my favorite place, to say the least.
“I’ll be right with you, honeybunch!” Poppy says and Adrian glances over his shoulder. His gaze lands on me and I scan him for any clues of discomfort or anger. I notice the tightness of his jaw, but the rest of him seems to be relaxed. Without so much as a hello, he turns his attention back to the menu hanging above the counter.Well, fine then. I didn’t want to talk to you either.Except that’s not entirely true, because I’m still unbelievably curious about him.
Which is why while he peruses the menu, I perusehim. He’s wearing fitted black pants, a black pea coat, and a cream turtleneck I can see poking out beyond the color of his coat. The darkness of his attire further accentuates his pitch-black hair and the barest hint of stubble speckling his razor-sharp jawline. It’s rather annoying how gorgeous he is. Even while wearing a scowl he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever met. Somehow he manages to make the facial expression sexy when it should be off-putting.
“Do you have any questions about the menu?” Poppy asks him, shooting me an apologetic look. I wave my hand at her to let her know I’m in no rush. Which she knows by now, because my Saturday routine is to come in here, sample at least one of the new teas she has, eat an almond croissant the size of my head, and read whatever book I have in my tote bag until lunchtime. Then, I get a sandwich and an iced tea to go and head back home to Murphy. It’s my weekly reset button. The reset I desperately need after my encounters with the man standing in front of me.
“No, thank you. I’ll have a mint chocolate tea latte,” Adrian replies in his smooth, deep voice.
I gape at him behind his back. Why does he have to like tea? He’s gorgeous, dresses like the men on my fantasy life Pinterest boards, has antique furniture,andlikes tea. If he wasn’t so ornery, I’d think he was my future husband.
