Page 26 of A Place Like You

“I was debating between owls and African elephants,” Magnus quips. His attention then shifts to Gael and Bach. “How was the bar? It seems like a fun place to hang out. Can we even do that?”

Bach steps forward, his expression calm and composed. “Chef Ramsey here took over the kitchen,” he reports matter-of-factly, not responding to the other question Magnus asked.

Gael rolls his eyes, his annoyance palpable. “I’m not Ramsey, and I had to step in. Jezebel doesn’t know how to run a kitchen—or cook,” he grumbles with a hint of exasperation.

My brow furrows in confusion. “Who the fuck is Jezebel?” I inquire, trying to make sense of the conversation.

“The owner of the bar,” Gael clarifies.

“Thankfully, River was there. He helped us with the tables,” Bach says.

My gaze scans the surroundings, searching for any sign of River’s presence. “Where is he?”

Bach nods toward the cabins. “He walked Gen and Elle to their place,” he explains. “Even though everyone claims nothing happens in this town, we can’t take any chances.”

“On our way here, we spotted people still hanging out in their backyards. Including the hot doctor,” Gael adds with a mischievous smirk.

I wonder if they’re talking about Wren. Probably, as far as I know, she’s the only doctor in town. “She was alone at the mercy of everyone?”

“Uh-huh. I offered to keep her company, but she didn’t seem very receptive,” Gael grins.

“Stay the fuck away from her.” A surge of protectiveness courses through me as I issue a stern warning.

Without uttering another word, I rise from my seat and make my way through the backwoods, the familiar path leading me toward the heart of the town. In the moonlit glow, I spot Wren, a captivating aura surrounding her. My gaze fixates on her, unable to resist the magnetic pull she exudes.

“Enjoying your night?” The question holds an unspoken longing, a desire for a deeper connection.

Wren looks up from her book, her eyes meeting mine. A soft smile graces her lips. Her walls are completely down. This isn’t the doctor who has to set boundaries and put up a wall so others will respect her.

This is just a beautiful woman with soulful eyes, fiery hair, and a vulnerability that tugs at my heartstrings, beckoning me closer like a moth drawn to a flame. In her gaze, I see a glimpse of her true self, unguarded and unmasked, as if the weight of the world has momentarily lifted from her shoulders.

As I approach, my heart beats like the rhythmic echo of distant drums, as if it senses that something profound and life-changing might be on the horizon. The air crackles with an unspoken chemistry, and I find myself drawn to her presence, yearning for more.

The stillness of the night seems to amplify the intensity of the moment, as if time itself has slowed down to savor this fleeting connection.

Can I stretch this moment long enough to taste her lips?

Chapter Fifteen

Wren

When I decided to read my book in front of the fire pit, I thought the most exciting thing that could happen was among the pages of my e-reader. I was completely wrong. First, I saw the Kershaw family walk by with two women. I didn’t see them well and didn’t recognize the women who went home with them. They were a bit too far from where I was sitting.

Though one of them broke away from the group and approached me. He introduced himself as Gael, the new bartender and chef, and his voice oozed a smooth and captivating charm. With a polite smile, I introduced myself and waved at him.

I’m not sure how this new chef thing is going to work. Jez might fire him for butting into her kitchen. She’s pretty territorial when it comes to . . . well, everything.

Only a few minutes later, Drake appears, and I can see that he’s not here just because he was walking through the back trail. My first instinct is to bid him farewell, considering the lateness of the hour, but I find myself transfixed, rendered speechless by his mesmerizing presence.

He’s handsome, bordering on sexy and irresistible. I’ve done my best to ignore the attraction, but it’s getting too hard. And also, he’s here, at my house. He stands before me, clad in nothing but a snug shirt that showcases his chiseled torso and sinewy arms. The flickering fire casts a soft glow, accentuating the sprinkling of silver amid his dark hair and playing with shadows across his striking features.

His mere presence sends my heart into a frenzy, reminding me that it’s been long since a man has paid any attention to me outside the clinic—for something other than a routine checkup or illness.

I want to breathe him in so deep, I can remember every detail about him. Not only that, I’d like to etch the way he sees me by memory so when he goes back to his life, I can remember that someone made me feel pretty and desirable just by a single gaze.

In his eyes, I catch a glimpse of the possibilities that lie beyond my imagination, the potential for connection and intimacy that I’ve been craving for a long time. It’s as if he sees past my reserved façade and into the dormant depths of my soul, where my true desires lie. I find myself torn between the safety of solitude and the appeal of what could be if I were to take a chance on him.

I shift in my seat, feeling the weight of his gaze like a gentle caress on my skin. It stirs a warmth within me, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could allow myself to be vulnerable with him—let him in for at least a night. But then I remember it’s not possible. He’s my employee, and then . . .

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