Page 1 of Luke

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LUKE

I haven’t lived in Kismet Falls for very long, but I’ve already discovered the best time of day to witness the unspoiled natural beauty of the town and the surrounding area.

It’s six o’clock in the morning and there’s still a light fog settled over everything that won’t fully go away until the sun rises over the hills in the east. At first, all I can see are treetops and gabled roofs as I power through my morning jog to climb one of the larger hills outside of town. I look from side to side, taking in the beautiful, serene picture in front of me before plunging down the hill again.

One by one, the houses on the outskirts of town reveal themselves to me, appearing briefly from the fog to greet me as I pass by before slowly disappearing from view again.

This has been my morning ritual for weeks, ever since I moved here, but it still somehow feels just as wondrous and magical as it did that very first day.

In my head—and only in my head, since I’m not actually crazy—I make note of the houses as I pass by.

Good morning old Victorian.Good to see you again 1950s Craftsman. And then the A-frame on the corner, one of my favorites.

“Oh, shoot!” A sharp hiss and a loud crash stops me in my tracks right in front of a fence gate that’s nearly covered in honeysuckle vines. The scent always makes me smile to myself as I jog past, and it’s one of the houses I silently greet, making note of the thick but tidy vegetation growing in the front garden, the vines threading their way through the fence, and the sunny yellow house that’s peeking out above it all.

Today is the first time the house has greeted me back, though.

I don’t normally see many people on my morning run, but I can just make out a foggy silhouette across the garden. And judging by the commotion I just heard, that silhouette might be having a rough start to the morning.

“Everything okay over there?” I call out, taking a step toward the gate. “Thought I heard something crash…”

Am I being a little nosy? Maybe. Isn’t that what small town life is all about, though? Getting to know your neighbors and being involved with the community? Pretty sure this counts as getting involved.

“No,” the figure sighs, turning my direction to peer through the fog at me. “I mean, yes, there was a crash. Totally my fault, though. I thought I’d get a head start on moving some of these flower pots from inside so they can get a full day’s worth of fresh air and sunlight, but I forgot one of the wheels on my cart had started coming loose a few days ago.” She points to a small wagon a few feet away that’s tipped on its side and chuckles. “Guess I got my reminder.”

Now that I can see her a little better, I’m suddenly speechless. Even at six in the morning and in leggings and a t-shirt, she’s beautiful. Long strawberry-blonde hair and bright green eyes—and those curves. Maybe it’s the damp fog or just my horny, over-active imagination, but her clothes seem to cling to her in all the right places, accentuating every single one of those delicious curves.

“I, uh,” I pause to scrub a hand down my face becausedamn, I really can’t keep staring at her like this. First of all, it’s rude. Second, it’s creepy. Definitely not the kind of impression I’m trying to make. And now I’m using every ounce of self-control I possess to keep my eyes locked onto hers and not let my gaze wander anywhere else. “I’d be glad to help carry those plants to wherever you were going with them,” I offer, mostly for the opportunity to keep talking to her for a few more minutes.

“Oh, thank you, but I wouldn’t want to bother you with that stuff.” She flaps a hand toward the broken wagon, but I’m more interested in the flush of light pink I can see appearing on her cheeks. “They aren’t too heavy or anything like that. I was just hoping to save myself a few extra trips around the side of the house.”

“Perfect,” I grin, giving her a half-shrug. “I’ll help out for a few minutes and save you those extra trips.”

She mirrors my smile. “Well, I guess if you really want to?”

“Just tell me what to start moving and I’m on it.”

“I can handle these flower pots, but if you want to follow me?” She waves for me to follow, then points to the back of the house. “There are a few bags of potting soil in the shed back here that will be a pain to move without my cart.”

As I follow her, she looks back over her shoulder at me, her green eyes sparkling in the early morning light. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town before. Do you live here in Kismet Falls?”

“Just outside of town,” I nod. “I still work about forty-five minutes away in the city, but I knew from the first time I passed through Kismet Falls that this was exactly where I wanted to settle down. It just felt like home, you know?”

I still remember exactly how it felt when I exited the highway and drove over the last hill coming into town. It’s the most beautiful, idyllic place I’ve ever seen, like someone lifted a little village straight out of a story book. The best part is that it’s close enough to commute to the city but still far enough away that it feels like my own secret, secluded hideaway.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else, so it definitely feels like home to me.” She tosses me a wink and gestures to the shed directly in front of us. “I think if we each take a bag, that will be enough to get me started. So, you live around here but still work forty-five minutes away? You must really like your job.”

“I do.” I grab two bags of potting soil while she picks up a third one, then follow her back around to the front yard. “I wouldn’t mind working a little closer to home, but there don’t seem to be too many architecture firms out here.”

“An architect?” She laughs as we set the bags down in the front yard. “Yeah, you probably won’t find any of those big name, big city firms around here. People are still building and renovating, though. More than I’ve ever seen since I’ve been working at the hardware store downtown.”

“You work at Carpenter’s Hardware? I’ll have to look for you the next time I’m there picking up paint. I’m doing a bit of renovating myself, but it’s been slow going fitting it around my work schedule.”

“I’m there at the store through the week, at the roller rink on the weekends, and right here in my garden the rest of the time, so…” She pauses and I swear I can see her blushing just a little again. “I guess I’m pretty easy to find if you need anything.”

Is she flirting or just being friendly? I’m honestly not sure and I don’t want to come on too strong—especially since I’ve already invited myself into her yard to help with her gardening project. But the fact that she’s still talking to me and still smiling has to be a good sign.

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