Page 25 of Twisted Paths

The furrow eases. His expression flickers with surprise. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile and that does it.

My heart hammers. My stomach's full of butterflies, and words have officially packed up and left the building.

Chapter 7

Luke

Iwipeahandover my face, my breath still a little uneven, the last of my workout clinging to my skin.

When I pull open the door, I’m already bracing for some kind of nuisance—a delivery I didn’t order, a neighbour I don’t want to talk to, or someone trying to convince me my windows need replacing.

What I’m not expecting is Nancy.

She stands there, shifting slightly on her feet, hands clasped together, her expression somewhere between determined and uncertain.

For a second, I just stare.

Because I’ve been thinking about her. More than I should be. More than I normally let myself think about anyone.

Her golden blonde hair, always slightly tousled, like she’s just come in from the wind. Her bright blue eyes, alive with something quick and sharp, always watching, always aware. The way she smiles, not just a polite upturn of lips but a full, face-lighting kind of thing that feels like warmth spilling over.

And the curves. Soft, natural. The kind that make my fingers itch for something I shouldn’t be thinking about.

It’s been distracting. Enough that I started wondering if she was exactly what I needed.

A muse.

Because, for the first time in months, I managed to write.

Not just half-hearted notes or a single moody sentence. A full outline. A story that actually made sense. A murder mystery, set in a quiet English village, where a nosy female vicar refuses to mind her own business and ends up solving a crime.

I blink, snapping back into the present.

Nancy’s eyes drop briefly to my bare chest, her lips parting slightly before she clamps them shut again. A faint flush creeps into her cheeks as her gaze lingers on my chest.

I clear my throat. “Nancy.”

Nancy’s eyes snap up to mine, like she’s just remembered why she’s here. “What kind of lawyer are you?”

I blink, caught off guard by the abrupt question. “Do you need a lawyer?”

Her forehead creases slightly. “No, I was just wondering.”

I study her for a second, but her expression is unreadable. “Criminal defence.”

“Oh.”

She doesn’t elaborate.

I tilt my head slightly. “Why?”

Nancy shifts on her feet. “Oh, the house.”

I arch an eyebrow. “The house?”

She gestures vaguely to the stone walls and entrance door. “It’s just… big. Expensive looking. I thought maybe you did something more… corporate?”

I exhale through my nose, ignoring the comment. The last thing I need is to explain why I actually own this house.

---