* * *

Daisy was thankful for the cold when she stepped out of the diner, her nerves still hot from Martha Kelley’s unsolicited “advice.” She sucked in a breath of frigid air, letting it wash over her as the roar of the diner faded away and Hunter stepped up behind her.

“You gotta excuse Lyle,” Hunter said, laughing as he glanced back through the window, where the old man was now hiding his card from Roger, who still peeked over his shoulder. “Those guys always seem to get a rise out of him one way or another.”

Hunter pressed a gentle hand to her back, leading her away from the busy establishment and toward the hazy glow of Main Street Jonathon Island. The town still looked like a storybook to her, the vintage streetlamps tied with orange and blue ribbons for the fall, neat little piles of golden leaves piled up in the corners of the shops. It was a place you almost couldn’t believe was real.

Daisy shivered as a gust of wind bit through her flannel.

“Here,” Hunter said, already shrugging out of his jacket.

“What is this, a Hallmark movie? I’m fine.” She laughed, even as another shiver ran through her.

“Sure you are,” Hunter said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But I don’t want people thinking I let my fiancée walk around in the cold. Humor me.”

He draped his jacket over her shoulders. The warmth of the fabric, still holding his body heat, immediately seeped into her as the smell of sawdust and pine filled her senses.

“Thank you,” she said, lifting a hand to brush her wind-strewn hair away from her face, and she had to give the sleeve a little shake for her fingertips to find a way out.

Hunter nodded, his hands now shoved into his jeans pockets as they strolled toward the coffee shop.

It felt like so much had changed in the last few weeks. Their relationship taking a turn the moment Hunter decided to stop keeping her at arm’s length. And now, they seemed to be in that warm, glowy place between friends and more than friends. The place where every interaction felt charged. Every glance seemed to hold some hidden meaning.

Daisy felt like she was standing just on the edge of falling. And she knew she shouldn’t, but she craved the reckless thrill of inching closer.

They stopped in front of the coffee shop, the windows dark for the night, signaling the end of the day, but suddenly, she didn’t want it to be over.

Daisy turned. “Do?—”

“Do you want to keep walking?” Hunter asked.

Her answer was immediate. “Yes.”

Hunter’s eyes lit up, that smirk she’s just gotten used to spreading across his face. “Great. Let’s go.”

He took hold of the end of her sleeve—his sleeve—and tugged her along as he steered them away from town.

“Where exactly are we going?” Daisy asked, laughing as she stumbled over a branch. Hunter caught her easily, his warm hand enveloping hers, supporting her as he led them down a beaten path.

“What, I never told you about the old Barrett Beach?” he said, his hand warming her back as he helped her over another fallen branch.

“You have your own beach?”

“Well, no,” he admitted sheepishly. “But also…yeah, sort of.”

The sound of waves grew louder with each step down the narrow trail. The trees thinned out, and Hunter reached out, pulling a branch aside to reveal the pebbly beach just on the other side.

Daisy let out a breath. “Wow.”

The cold waters of Lake Huron were a cauldron of starlight, silver specks sinking into deep. The waves hushed back and forth over the white pebbly beach, washing away all traces of the world around.

“The view never gets old,” Hunter murmured, apparently just as awed by it as she was.

“Why do you call it Barrett Beach?” Daisy asked, head tilting.

Hunter pointed inland and she followed it up the hill, over rows of trees, to where the Barrett house overlooked the water. He took one more look and then clapped his hands together. “Come on, then.” He gripped her sleeve again and tugged her farther onto the beach.

Her feet wobbled on the uneven ground, and it shifted with every step, causing her to thrust her arms out for balance.