Page 23 of Falling For Us Again

I can hear Aunt Mila trying to suppress a laugh on the other end of the line. “Ah, I see... so sounds like he’s pretty hot.”

I shake my head to shake of the spell he seems to put me under.

“Aunt Mila! I didn’t say that.”

You don’t have to dear. I can read you like a book.

“Aunt Mila, stop it. He hates me, and I feel the same.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Hmm.”

“I need to go now. I’ve got someone coming to help with the lawn in an hour.” I leave out the inconvenient detail that it's Dylan.

“Alright, honey. Call me later.”

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too, dear.”

After ending the call, I sit up in bed, running a hand through my hair. The vividness of the dream lingers, and I can still feel Dylan’s touch, his lips on mine. It’s unsettling how real it felt and how much my body responds to the mere thought of him.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching to release the tension in my muscles. As I move around the room, getting ready for the day, my mind keeps drifting back to the dream.

Maybe it’s the unresolved feelings from our past, or perhaps it’s the recent interactions we’ve had. Either way, it’s clear that Dylan still has a profound effect on me.

As I head to the kitchen to make some coffee, I remind myself that it was just a dream. But the lingering heat at the thought of his touch makes it difficult to convince myself that it doesn’t mean something more.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and take a deep breath, trying to focus on the tasks ahead. My phone buzzes with a notification, reminding me that Dylan should be here at any moment.

Just as I’m finishing my coffee, I hear a car pulling into the driveway. Peering out the window, I see Dylan stepping out of his truck, looking every bit as hot as he did in my dream.

My heart skips a beat, and I feel my nipples instantly turn into tight buds. I take a deep breath, willing myself to remain composed.

"Hey," he calls out as he approaches the porch. There was no smile or smirk on his face this time, and he barely glances at me, his eyes roaming over the grass instead.

"Hey," I reply, forcing a smile. “Thanks for coming over to help."

He looks at me then, his brows creased to a frown at my gratitude. “You’re welcome,” he says before looking around once again. "I'll get started on the lawn."

I watch as he walks to the back of his truck, retrieving the lawnmower. He handles it with ease, his movements confident and sure. As the lawnmower roars to life, I turn my attention back to my tasks, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach.

Back in the kitchen, I set up my laptop on the table and prepare for my call with Croft Real Estates. The agent, Marcy, has been in touch several times since I arrived in Hartlow, eager to finalize the sale of my parents' property.

The thought of selling the house fills me with a mixture of relief and at the same time sadness. This place holds so many memories and letting go feels like closing a final chapter of my life.

The phone rings promptly at twelve. I take a deep breath and answer, trying to project a composure that I don’t feel.

"Hello, this is Jenna."

"Good morning, Jenna. This is Marcy from Croft Real Estate. How are you today?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. How about you?"

"Great, thanks for asking. I wanted to touch base regarding the sale of your parents' property. We've had lots of interest as I’d previously mentioned, and I wanted to see if you're ready to move forward."

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