Page 3 of Love Story

My friends.

I loved them all.

We finally let a grumpy, icy Haider up, and snow fell around us, muffling everything but the sound of Haider’s cursing.Which didn’t last long because he was perennial sunshine, and he laughed as he regaled us with another one of his dating horrors.

Another year, another birthday, and the same thought gnawed at the back of my mind—how did thirty sneak up on me so damn fast?

“I might have a new guy to look at anyway,” he said, his voice dripping with exaggerated nonchalance.

Conor groaned.“Here we go.”

Ryan, always the slower one to pick up on Haider’s antics, tilted his head.“A new guy?Where?”

“In town,” Haider said smugly, savoring the moment like one of his chocolates.“Harriet Thompson’s great-nephew is moving to Caldwell Crossing.”

Harriet was the town librarian and ran the local crafting group, which meant she heard and saw everything and discussed it with her friends while knitting.She also frightened me at school whenever I was late returning a book.

“Harriet has a nephew?”I repeated, frowning.

“Great-nephew,” Haider corrected.“Apparently…” He paused, letting the word linger in the air as if he were announcing the winner of some dramatic reality show.“He’s super-sweet and cute, coming here to unwind after some big-city burnout.Boston, I believe.”He halted abruptly, planting his hands on his hips like a diva mid-performance.Snow swirled around us, but Haider was in his element.“And I call dibs on the new guy in town.”

Ryan groaned, throwing his head back.“You can’t call dibs on a person, Haider.That’s not how it works.”

Haider spun on his heel to face us, waving dismissively.“Of course I can.It’s efficient.Saves everyone time and energy.”

I smirked.“He might not even be into you, Haider,” I pointed out.“You ever think of that?”

“And he might not be into guys at all,” Conor added, shrugging.

Haider gasped as if we’d just insulted his very existence.“You don’t think so?”he said, gesturing to himself with a dramatic flourish.He tossed his head back, flipping an imaginary mane of hair.“I mean, come on.Who wouldn’t be into this?”

I snorted, shaking my head.“You’re impossible.”

“Thank you,” Haider said, flashing me a grin.“But seriously, Harriet Thompson’s great-nephew—Ben, I think?—sounds like a catch.He’s a big-city escapee, and she says he’s cute, but I bet he’s all broody and sad, but in a sweet way.I’m into it.”

“You’ve met him then.”

“No, but Ben is a sexy name, right?”

“So, based on a name, you’re already planning your future together,” Ryan said dryly, brushing snow from his coat.

“Someone has to plan,” Haider retorted.“Otherwise, how will it happen?”

We all laughed, the sound echoing through the snowy forest.Haider’s theatrics were nothing new, but they made our meetups feel special.Still, as we continued walking, I couldn’t help but wonder about this guy Ben.Burnout, Harriet’s family—he didn’t seem like someone who’d fit into Haider’s usual circle.

Not that I cared.I didn’t.Really.

We split up at the trail’s end.“Don’t forget my presents at the party,” Haider called after us.

“I didn’t get you anything,” Conor teased.“Deal with it.”

Haider rolled his eyes but grinned as he turned toward the parking lot.I watched the others go, their laughter fading into the distance as the snow muffled the world around me.I tucked my hands into my pockets and headed back to my truck, the thought of home pulling at me.I had so much to do today, which wouldn’t be achieved by hanging around here.

First, I needed to stop at Lakeside Inn, with its weathered stone facade and green shutters—venue for Haider’s party later.The inn sat nestled beside the lake, where the frozen water stretched smooth as glass mirroring the dark clouds in the overcast sky.I stayed long enough to drop off maple products for their guest baskets.Then, it was back to the farm.

The drive was quiet, and there was a stillness around me that could allow me to let my mind wander if I wasn’t careful.Snow still fell, light and steady, blanketing the trees and fields on either side of the road.The fencing running along the edge of our property was in my sight when I noticed it—a car pulled off to the side of the road and half-hidden by the snow.

I eased off the gas, my grip tightening on the wheel.It could’ve been abandoned, maybe left behind when the late winter storm rolled in over the weekend.But something about the angle—its nose tilted forward—didn’t sit right.

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