Page 6 of Moonlight With Maddox
“What’s in the case?” he asks, glancing down at my bag, sitting on the bench between us.
“My camera.” I rest my hand on the soft leather and feel instantly at ease. It’s like my very own security blanket. “I want to get a few shots of the town, the festival, and the people. It's something I’m working on for my job.”
He nods, thoughtful but without saying anything before turning the key in the ignition. The old truck rumbles to life, and soon we’re rolling down the dirt drive toward town.
For a moment we ride in silence, and I’m not sure if he’s waiting for me to say something first.
“So,” he says at last, eyes fixed on the road. “You’ve been pretty much everywhere, huh?”
“That’s one way to put it.” I smile. “Ten years and thirty-something countries on the road. Beaches, deserts, glaciers, temples—some I loved, and some I couldn’t wait to leave.”
He’s quiet for a moment, with only the hum of the truck’s motor between us.
“Do you ever get tired of it?”
“Yes,” I pause, surprised by how naturally that response came out of me. “I mean, sometimes. It’s an amazing experience and it’s given me the chance to see so many places but can get lonely. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to find a place to settle down and plant some roots.”
He glances at me for just a moment, something unreadable flickers in his eyes, but it’s gone before I can be sure it was even there.
“What about you?” I ask, eager to steer the focus off my ramblings. “Aunt Connie says you work on the mountain.”
“Park Service,” he nods. “Mostly I patrol the mountain, check permits, and keep folks from wandering off the trails and into trouble. This time of year, I spend half my time chasing festival visitors who think a quick hike means wandering off the path in flip-flops.”
I laugh, the sound surprising me with how easy it feels. “You don’t look like the flip-flop chasing type.”
He surprises me when the corner of his mouth curves up slightly. “I’m not. But someone’s got to keep them from runninginto black bears or falling off the ridge trying to take a selfie at Lookout Point.”
A warmth settles between us, quiet but not uncomfortable.
As the lights of the town appear through the windshield, I can see the sign announcing the Maple Ridge Fall Festival. And the very idea of nostalgia that I was trying to sell to Frank, hits me in the most wonderful way possible.
I run my fingertips over the leather again, heart skipping at the thought of the evening ahead—and at the man sitting beside me, who may or may not think this is a date.
Either way, I’m not sure I mind.
7
Maddox
By the time we reach Jackson’s Orchard, it feels like we’ve covered every inch of town.
Our evening started with a slow stroll down Main Street, admiring the decorations that seem to multiply with each passing year. We grabbed steaming cups of apple cider, then wandered through the corn maze tucked behind the Maple Ridge General Store.
The sun has long since set, and the inky night sky is splattered with stars filling the night sky. Lanterns glow along the fence, throwing soft light over the crowd waiting for the last hayrides of the evening.
Beside me, Leni scrolls through the photos on her camera, her face lit from below by the small screen. Every few seconds she gasps softly or bites her lip in concentration, and I can’t stop watching the way her eyes shine.
“This one,” she says, turning the camera so I can see. It’s the corn maze, all golden stalks and shadow, with a couple of kids darting through. “I didn’t expect the light to hit like that. It’s perfect. What do you think?”
I nod, but mostly I’m caught up in how alive she looks, cheeks pink from the chill and hair blowing from the breeze off the fields. I love listening to her talk about the town I’ve always loved—hearing it through her eyes makes it feel new.
The rumble of the tractor grows louder as it rolls around the barn. I glance toward it, and a soft click snaps behind me.
I turn back. Leni’s grinning, camera still raised.
“Did you just take a picture of me?”
“Maybe,” she says, not even pretending to look guilty. “Couldn’t resist.”
