Page 18 of Rescued In The Storm

"Sarah, I've been thinking about?—"

The shrill buzz of his phone cuts through the moment. Connor closes his eyes briefly, frustration flashing across his face before he pulls the device from his pocket. The screen illuminates his features as he checks the message.

"It's Liam,” he mutters. “Emergency at the lodge. A water main break in the east wing."

"Oh." The word comes out small, deflated.

"I have to go." His expression is apologetic, almost pained. "Sarah?—"

"It's fine," I say quickly, stepping back, rebuilding the walls that had started to crumble. "Go. The lodge needs you."

He hesitates, clearly torn, phone buzzing again in his hand. "We should finish this conversation."

"Sure." I force a smile. "Another time."

Connor takes one last look at me, something unreadable in his eyes, before he turns and jogs toward his truck parked down the street. I watch him go, the violin's melody suddenly seeming melancholy in the gathering twilight.

What just happened? What was he about to say before Liam's text?

ChapterEight

Connor

Saturday morning's farmers market is already in full swing by the time I arrive, the town square transformed into a maze of colorful canopies and bustling shoppers. The scent of fresh bread and flowers mingles in the air as I make my way through the crowd, scanning the familiar layout of stalls.

I spot Miller's Bakery setup in its usual corner location. It’s a simple white tent with a hand-painted sign, display cases filled with pastries and bread. Maya is arranging cinnamon rolls while Sarah chats with an elderly customer, her smile bright despite what must have been an early morning.

Something about watching her from a distance, seeing her in her element without her knowing I'm there, reminds me of that photograph she took of me. Is this how she felt, capturing a moment that wasn't meant for her?

I weave through the crowd, making my way to her stall. Sarah looks up as I approach, surprise flickering across her face before her smile widens.

"Connor! Didn't expect to see you here today." She hands change to her customer before turning to me. "Especially after that flooding emergency last night. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"Probably," I admit, stifling a yawn. The three hours I managed before my internal clock woke me barely count. "Sorry again for having to rush off like that."

"No need to apologize," she says with a shrug. "Emergencies happen. Mrs. Henderson's niece is staying at the lodge. Said half the east wing had no water until nearly dawn."

"More like 4 a.m.," I correct, leaning against the edge of her table. "Took Liam and me most of the night to replace the damaged section. Turns out the original pipes were older than we thought."

Maya appears beside Sarah, eyebrows raised. "Connor Callahan, plumber extraordinaire. Is there anything you mountain men can't do?"

"Make cinnamon rolls like Sarah's," I answer promptly, eyeing the perfect rows of pastries. "Even Declan admits no one's mastered her technique."

Sarah laughs, the sound warming something in my chest despite my exhaustion. She's wearing a simple sundress today instead of her usual bakery attire, her hair pulled back in a loose braid with a few strands escaping to frame her face. There's a smudge of flour on her forearm that she must have missed—the small imperfection somehow making her more real, more tangible.

"So what brings you to the market?" she asks. "Stocking up on survival supplies?"

"Actually," I say, the idea forming as I speak, "I came to make you an offer."

"Oh?" Her head tilts slightly, curious.

"When was the last time you actually experienced the farmers market? As a customer, I mean, not working behind your stall?"

Sarah considers this, then shakes her head. "I can't remember. We've had a stall here every Saturday during market season for years."

"That's what I thought." I straighten up, sudden energy displacing my fatigue. "Maya, how would you feel about managing the stall alone for an hour or so?"

Maya's eyes dart between us, a knowing smile spreading across her face. "I think I could handle that. It's past the morning rush anyway."

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