Page 13 of Their Reluctant Catch

“There’s the B&B.” Todd points ahead.

The bed and breakfast is impossible to miss. The Victorian house stands proud at the end of the main street, its pale blue siding and crisp white trim glowing in the soft winter light. The wraparound porch is lined with wooden rocking chairs, and the curved turret at the corner gives it an almost whimsical feel. It’s straight out of a storybook, the kind of place that practically screams “cozy.”

I want to hate it. I should. Danny’s dead. His dad, too. And I’m here, breathing in this cozy warmth like I didn’t spend that day cowering in a damn car while they bled out on the shop floor. I should be miserable. I should be suffering. But this place—it’s perfect—and I hate that I love it.

The front door opens as the van pulls to a stop, and a woman steps onto the porch, waving. She’s tall and curvy, with dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, her deep red cardigan standing out against the house’s muted tones. A man follows her, shorter but as poised. His easy smile lights up his face and the corners of his eyes crinkle behind wire-rimmed glasses as he rests a hand on her lower back.

“Those are Diana and Elliot,” Todd says, shutting down the van. “They run the place.”

I grab my suitcase, duffel bag, and backpack from the back of the van, fumbling slightly with the weight. Todd reaches out to help, but I shake my head, tightening my grip. “I’ve got it.”

The hosts meet us at the edge of the porch, holding hands. The woman leans into the man as she talks, and he glances at her with a look so full of affection it’s almost uncomfortable to witness.

“Welcome.” The woman holds out her hand and smiles invitingly. “You must be Savannah. I’m Diana and I’m your hostess. We heard about your little adventure. I hope you’re feeling better now?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” I wish I could match the warmth in Diana’s voice, but the best I manage is something that passes for polite. “Just glad to be here.”

Elliot steps forward, reaching for my bags. “Let me help with those.”

I put up a token protest which Elliot ignores.

“Come on in. The wind is blistering. We’ve got your room all set up. Diana will show you.”

“And don’t worry about your rental,” Diana adds as she ushers me toward the porch. “Cal and Finn towed it in earlier. They and Grady will have that little thing up and running in no time.”

My head is spinning with all the names. The ease with which she talks is strangely unsettling. I hardly know these people, and yet they’re already solving my problems like I’m part of some extended family. It’s... different. Unnervingly different. Back in Miami, I barely knew my neighbors, and here’s this small-town couple acting like they’ve known me for years.

As Diana leads me inside, I steal a glance back at the town. The quiet street, the snow-dusted trees, the faint peal of laughter from somewhere nearby—it’s all so different from Miami, where car horns and shouting were a constant backdrop. Here, the silence is heavy, like it’s waiting for me to do something with it.

* * *

Todd

I leave Savannah in Diana’s and Elliot’s capable hands, her expression adorably befuddled. “See you around,” I call over my shoulder, but she doesn’t respond, still taking in the house as Diana ushers her inside.

I head back to the van, shaking my head as I climb in. For someone who’s had a rough night, she’s handling things better than I expected. I like the way her eyes lit up when she talked about engines. As contrary as it makes her, I also enjoyed the stubborn set of her jaw when I tried to help with her bags. What will it take to make her yield and let a man take charge?

Get a grip, Todd.

The drive to the MacAllisters’ garage is barely a mile from Main Street. Their place is like everything else in Northwick Cove—simple, multi-functional, and full of character. The garage sits at the end of a gravel driveway, its large bay doors open to reveal several vehicles in various stages of disassembly.

Grady steps out as I park, wiping his hands on a rag that’s more grease than fabric. His wiry hair sticks out from beneath a faded baseball cap, and his grin widens as he spots me.

“Well, if it isn’t the young Turner brother.” He leans against the van’s hood. “What brings you by? Or should I say, who?”

I roll my eyes as I climb out. “The rental. How’s it looking?”

Grady smirks and heads into the garage. As I follow, I spot the little red car with its hood is popped open.

Grady tosses the rag onto a workbench. “You mean the Civic? It’s seen better days, that’s for sure. Reliable make, but someone’s been neglecting it. Alternator belt was shot to hell, and it took some things with it.”

“Can you get it running?”

“Course we can.” He pats the side of the car like it’s a stubborn horse. “But it’ll take a day or two to get a new belt here. I don’t have it in stock. Might take longer, depending on what else we find.”

Callum pipes up from under the red car’s hood. “This the one Mel said was for a stranded blonde?”

Grady grins as I let out a sigh. “Yeah, that one.” I cross my arms over my chest.

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