Page 3 of Their Rustic Retreat

“All right, that’s in the freezer for Dad to deal with later,” the guy, who I assume asked Mr. Bell to come out here, says. “Thanks as always for the personal delivery.”

“Anytime, Hawk,” Mr. Bell replies. “Your father always treats me well so it's only right I do the same.”

This Hawk guy looks me up and down. “Got you what Dad would call a hoss, I see.”

Mr. Bell slaps me on the shoulder. “What, Tristian here? Yeah, he’s one hell of a hard worker, and strong as an ox.”

I smirk. Nice to know I don’t have to worry about being so far from a gym, working this job.

“Well, hopefully he’s taking the more rural life well,” Hawk says. “I’m going to go let my father know what is waiting for him. Take care of yourself, Mr. Bell. And your hoss too.”

Hawk heads inside the house as Mr. Bell and I leave the garage.

“You’re done for the day, Tristian. Don’t need to ride back with me unless you really want to,” the old man says. “And I don’t think you do. You moved into Evergreen Valley proper, didn’t you?”

I nod. I’d been here a few months, but I haven’t made it much around the town. Mostly laying low when I’m not working. I’m in no rush to build up a big profile again, especially not with how I left the city in the first place. “All right, see you on Monday, then, boss.”

“Take care of yourself,” Mr. Bell says, giving me a firm paternalistic pat on the back as he passes.

I head out of the garage and stretch, wondering what to do with the freedom for the rest of the day. It’s a hard decision, really.

It’s not too long after that pondering flexing that I spot her.

She’s over there. Watching me, her hand resting on a dog’s head, petting him passively.

Goddamn, she’s gorgeous. Long brown hair curled at the ends, wearing a flannel shirt with enough buttons undone that I can see her bra straps. Denim short shorts, leading to her long, luscious legs that I could run my hands up and down, for days. They curve up to the rest of her body so enticingly, leading me back to her cute freckled face, and how she’s staring at me with wonder, those big brown eyes drinking me in as much as I am with her.

She suddenly breaks eye contact. There’s a tinge of anxiety about her, but I can tell when a woman is staring longingly at me. We all get a little nervous around people we find attractive.

It’s no reason to ignore what’s obviously there.

So that’s why I head right over to her. Break the ice. Confirm that the vibes that I’m feeling aren’t just me reading cues that aren’t present.

I expect the dog to intercept me, but instead it cocks its head in curiosity. Guess I don't have to worry about it being overly defensive like I’ve seen with some dogs.

“Hello, there,” I say, approaching her. I take a look around the Moore homestead. “Nice place you got here.”

“Hi,” she says, her voice meek.

“Saw you from over there and thought I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left without learning your name.” Overly dramatic of me, but hey, everyone loves a little drama, especially chicks.

“Uh-huh,” she says, her eyes shifting. “Is that line how you learn the name of every girl you’re interested in?”

“Nah, I don’t think I’ve used it before. You’re the first. You’re special.”

She shakes her head with a smile, her ice quickly thawing. “I’m Serena. And you? Are you going to let me live on without learning your name?”

“Tristian,” I say. “Serena is very pretty.”

“My mother certainly thought so. Kinda glad she won that one. My dad wanted to name all his kids after birds.”

I cock an eyebrow, gears in my brain moving. “Like Hawk?”

“Yeah. Like Hawk, my brother. I was almost named Robin. Which is a boy’s name.”

“Robin is a girl’s name too.”

“No, it isn’t.” She crosses her arms.

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