Page 38 of Your Place or Mine

“Itisexhausting. But also kind of hot.”

I cracked a smile despite myself. “Please tell me you at least left him rattled.”

“Oh, he was rattled.” She picked up her coffee, sipping like a woman entirely satisfied with her chaos. “If nothing else, I think he’s slightly terrified of me.”

“That’s the dream.”

We fell into a quiet rhythm for a minute, the sunlight creeping across the kitchen counter and the scent of strong coffee warming the room.

I glanced toward the window, eyes drifting down Main Street.

There was a lot to do.

A building to manage. Tenants to support. Repairs to make. A life to rebuild.

I didn’t have time for this…him.

Not for brooding bar owners with stubborn streaks and unexpected charm.

Not for the late-night thoughts about what his laugh might sound like when he wasn't irritated.

Not for the memory of his hand sliding that drink across the bar, dandelions and all.

“Don’t get attached,” I whispered to myself.

Melanie raised an eyebrow. “Too late?”

“Maybe.”

And that was the part that scared me most.

“Let’s go get some groceries.” I smiled and cleared my throat, hoping to keep the Callum thoughts at bay.

The grocery store sat on the edge of Main Street with a carved wooden sign that saidReckless River’s Goods & Groceriesand a little hand-painted mural of vegetables smiling at each other. That alone would've been enough to charm me, but the bell that jingled above the door when we walked in sealed the deal. It was the kind of place where apples were stacked like artwork, and the check-out guy probably knew your dog’s birthday.

I grabbed a cart, and Melanie immediately tossed in a bag of caramel popcorn.

“Necessary,” she said. “Survival food.”

“You’re here for two more days.”

“I plan to survivehard.

We meandered through the aisles, tossing in the basics—milk, eggs, and cereal—and the not-so-basics, like strawberry shortcake ice cream bars, instant noodle soup, chicken tenders shaped like dinosaurs, three kinds of cheese I couldn’t pronounce, and a bottle of fancy elderflower soda that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale.

“This is the most joy I’ve gotten out of a grocery run in years,” I said, holding up a jar of locally made peach preserves.

Melanie grinned. “It’s because you’re free now. No more soul-sucking job, no more city traffic. You rid yourself of an icky, unsupportive ex. And now, maybe you can start to heal and feel your mom’s presence with snacks and small-town gossip.” She muttered something else I couldn’t decipher.

“What?” My brow raised.

She grinned. “I said, and I hope you’ll find love with a cranky mountain man who owns a bar.”

I threw a box of granola bars at her, which she managed to lodge into the cart. We were mid-aisle, arguing about whether we needed two types of tortilla chips, when I heard someone call my name.

“Lydia!”

I turned, startled, and spotted a familiar face jogging toward us with an easy smile and a basket on his arm.

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