Page 4 of Lovewell Lane

A girly gasp reached my ears, and out of instinct, I stretched my hand out to steady the woman. I shifted the weight of the boxes to one arm to free my hand. And in slow motion, I watched as they tipped over and spilled all over the floor. I scowled and let go of the arm I was holding once I realized she was steady.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed out.

When I turned away from the mess on the floor, I found a woman that I’d never seen before. That didn’t happen often. Her nervous smile nearly blinded me, and for some reason, I wanted to return it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smiled at a woman. Or even been attracted to one. I thought I’d lost that ability a long time ago.

She was beautiful. The kind of person that glowed from the inside out. Dirty blonde hair and green eyes were what drew me in, but all of her features were soft and sweet. Her slightly upturned nose had a speckling of freckles across it. Her cheeks flushed pink and her lips were even pinker, so much so that I had to drag my eyes away from them. Her bright yellow puffer jacket made her stand apart from the dull monotony of my farm store. In my staring, I realized she was holding her hand out with something for me.

I looked down to figure out what it was. Something wrapped in cloth with a little bow made out of twine tying it all together.

“This is for you. Sorry, I called out, but you must not have heard me,” she said with a slight pinch between her brows.

No wonder I didn’t see her, she was short. Her neck craned to look up at me with her cheeks becoming pinker by the second.

“Hello,” I said with a healthy amount of hesitation. That was probably a stupid thing to say. My brother’s words echoed in my head, and while I usually would ignore them, this customer intrigued me. “It’s fine. How can I help you?”

“Uh, I’m new to town,” she said slowly like she was soothing a growling dog.

She put down her colorful offering gently into my now empty hands before bending down to her knees. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Let me help you with your um,” she paused while looking at the mess on the floor.

“Caulk,” I deadpanned.

She let out a quiet choking sound. A laugh of disbelief that got caught in her throat. I bent down to my knees to help her shove all of the items back into the boxes.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m just putting it on the shelf anyway,” I said.

“No, please, let me. I’m so sorry,” she insisted. Our hands brushed against each other as we reached for the same caulk, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. We gathered the rest of the fallen items in silence. Once everything was back in a box, I reached out a hand to help her to her feet.

“I’m a baker. I’ll be opening a diner across the street from you.” Her pink-painted nail pointed out the front door to the vacant building directly opposite mine. “I thought I’d bring you some cookies and introduce myself.”

Ah. A Dreamer. Should’ve known.

I picked up the wrapped cookies and read the note attached to it. She had pretty handwriting, the kind that belonged on wedding invitations.

“Your name is Mango?” I asked.

“Uh, no. It’sMargo,” she corrected. Looked like I struck a nerve because her pretty smile twitched a little.

“Great, welcome.”

She seemed shocked at my bluntness. Every one of the ‘Dreamers’ that came to our town expected some welcome wagon as if us townspeople were happy they’d finally come to save the day. In reality, we all knew they wouldn't last long.

“Thanks,” she chirped. “Do you think you could point me in the direction of Sweethearts Street? I lost signal a few miles back.”

“Right at the end of the street, make a right, then a left, and you’re there.”

She lingered in the middle of the aisle, looking like she was debating on saying something else. After a healthy pause, she spoke again, “Do you not like cookies?”

“What?”

“Cookies. You seem perturbed by the thought of them.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Not a dessert person.”

Her mouth fell open shortly and then formed a pretty little pout.When was the last time I’d had sex?I should not be turned on by a woman pouting at me. Especially one that looked about ten years younger than me. I was a dad and pushing thirty-six. A woman in her twenties was definitely off limits.

She recovered from her shock shortly after. “Do you like bread?”

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