Page 27 of Love Songs

“That would be fantastic.” I smiled, raising my to-go cup of tea like giving a toast. “Thank you.”

After gathering his keys and paperwork, we climbed into a copper-colored compact SUV and headed toward Harmony Lake. The property was on the other side of the lake, opposite the inn where I was staying. Once we cleared the few streets that made up downtown Caldwell Crossing, Nolan turned onto Harmony Drive, a winding tree-lined road with glimpses of the lake and homes tucked behind a shield of maples, oaks, and pines.

“You look familiar,” Nolan said as he drove. “But I know you’re not from around here.”

“No, I’m not. You might have heard of my band,” I said, bracing myself for more comments about the fire. “The Dallas Blade Band.”

Nolan frowned and shook his head. “No, that’s not it.”

Okaay . .. I fought back a chuckle. More and more, I found it refreshing meeting local townsfolk who didn’t know who I was, or did but didn’t care.

“Oh, I know!” Nolan smacked his palm on the steering wheel, his teeth flashing as he guffawed loudly. “You’re the guy who won Conor Holliston at the charity bachelor auction for twenty-five-hundred bucks.”

“Yes.” The laughter I’d been holding back escaped, entertained that he seemed to have no idea who I was. Only that I was the big bidder from out of town. “That was me.”

Nolan whistled. “Nobody’s ever bid much over a couple hundred bucks, for as long as they’ve been running the bachelor auction.”

“Yeah, well.” I shrugged and rubbed the back of my neck. “It was for a good cause, and I felt bad for setting the stage on fire on Founders Day.”

Nolan whipped his head around and stared at me, his eyes comically wide. “You did what now?”

For a town that seemed to know everything about everyone, I wondered how it was possible for him to have missed that. Apparently, it was a pretty big thing. Having gone viral online, and all.

“Never mind,” I said with a grin. “It was small, and Conor put it out fast.”

“So . . . Did you fall instantly in love with our little town and decide to move here?” Fire forgotten, thankfully, Nolan glanced at me with bright humor in his dark eyes and a wry grin on hisface. “Or did a certain firefighter you’ve been seen around town with sway you?”

I didn’t know why the gossip tree in this little town charmed me, when in the tabloids it annoyed me. Maybe because the people here cared about each other and everyone felt supportive—like we were all in this together. Whereas the tabloids were a bunch of money-grubbing pariahs.

“I can’t lie. Lieutenant Holliston is highly attractive.” I couldn’t deny that Conor might be a factor in my interest in possibly making Caldwell Crossing home, but he was the cherry on top. My desire to plant roots for Jaylin was the primary driving factor. My priorities in life had taken a sharp turn when she entered my world. “But this town has a genuine appeal to it. I love the easy-going, open, and friendly vibe here, and when I saw the photo for this property, something in my gut said I had to look at it.”

“The town and its people are very charming, and this is a beautiful piece of property,” Nolan agreed, but he chewed on his lower lip as though debating saying more. “But don’t get too excited about it yet. The house isn’t legally habitable. Making it worse is some kids in town who think it’s haunted and dare each other to go inside. Conor and the CCFD are forever getting called out there.”

“It’s not haunted though, right?” My voice cracked and rose embarrassingly, but I didn’t care. As drawn as I felt to the place already, I wasn’t sure I could get past living in a murder house full of traumatized ghosts.

I took a few sips of my tea to ease the tickle in my throat, finishing it as Nolan flipped his turn signal on. I dropped the empty cup into one of the center console drink holders.

“No, it’s not haunted,” Nolan laughed. “And no one ever died in there, but I wouldn’t trust the stairs to hold you or the light switches not to shock you.”

I puffed out a relieved breath. “Good to know.”

Nolan turned into a gravel driveway and stopped in front of a derelict wooden gate. Tall trees and overgrown bushes blocked the view of whatever lay ahead. A weatheredFOR SALEsign stood at an angle near the edge of the quiet, two-lane road.

The gate creaked as Nolan lifted rather than pushed it open, and I made a mental note to put that at the top of the list to replace when I bought the property. I shook my head. There I was getting ahead of myself, already making plans and I’d yet to see the house.

The gravel drive was bumpy, with potholes and weeds nearly as tall as the vehicle’s hood ran down the middle of the two tracks. At one point we had to stop and move some large branches out of the way so we could pass—and I still couldn’t see anything but forest.

“How long is this driveway?”

“Little over six hundred feet,” Nolan said, wincing when branches scraped along the side of his car.

Finally, the trees gave way to reveal the house, a detached garage, and the lake behind it. Two things crossed my mind in that moment: one, it did look haunted; and two, I was going to buy it.

“What style is this?”

“This is a colonial revival built in 1904,” Nolan said as he shut off the engine and we exited the car. “There are four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and a little over two-thousand square feet.”

I stood there for a second to take in the atmosphere. Birds of all kinds chirped and chittered merrily as they darted about. A light breeze ruffled through the leaves on the mature trees, and sunlight dappled the ground like a million tiny spotlights. Ducks quacked and splashed in the lake. The air smelled clean and fresh, nothing like New York City, and carried with it a sweetnote that reminded me of my auction date with Conor at the Stonebridge Maple Farm. The peaceful chorus of nature sang to my soul and said,this is your home.

---