Chapter One

Lily

The sun dips below the horizon as I pull into the quaint little town of Maple Hollow. And before my grandmother passed, it was the place she called home. The large "Welcome to Maple Hollow" sign is hard to miss as I turn into the gas station, where an elderly man in denim overalls rushes outside as I pull up to the pump.

"Filling up today?" he asks as I exit my beat-up old Honda.

"Please," I reply, and he nods.

I leave the man to it, though it feels odd to let him fill up my car, and I head inside where a younger guy—around my age—stands behind the counter. His eyes follow me as I head toward the back to get a bottle of water. Hopefully, there is a grocery store close by for supplies, as I can't imagine any food being in my newly inherited house.

As I approach to the counter, the man smiles widely.

"Haven't seen you around here before," he says, leaning against the counter.

"That's because I've never been here before. I'm just moving to town today."

He nods, and I suppress a shiver. With his amber-colored gaze and a face made up of all the right angles, the guy is extremely attractive. I love the small-town vibe he is throwing out, but the last thing I need right now is a man to complicate things.

My ex broke up with me three weeks ago. Apparently, he read my diary and then demanded I tell him my deepest, darkest fantasy. It scared him enough he ran for the hills. Charles Williamson Jr. was as vanilla as they come. We met on my first day of college, and when he asked me to be his girlfriend after three weeks of dating, of course I said yes. He courted me, took me on dates, and treated me how a lady should be treated. It was all going well for the first year up until I opened my mouth and told him I'd read about CNC—consensual non-consent. The deeper I read, the further down that rabbit hole I fell. There is absolutely nothing wrong with vanilla sex if it's your preference; however, for me, it wasn't enough. Chase me around the house, pull my hair, and give me something to get my blood pumping. This girl wants a damn orgasm that isn't granted by her own hand.

"What brings a pretty girl like yourself to Maple Hollow? There isn't exactly much here. People who arrive are normally running from something."

"I inherited a house from my grandmother. I honestly thought she died when I was a child. "

"You're not Mavis Huckley's granddaughter, are you?"

"I am, indeed. Though I wish I'd had the chance to know her."

The man smiles sweetly. "Just ask around—everyone will have a story about her. I'm Harlen."

"Lily. Nice to meet you," I say, handing him my card to pay.

Along with the house, I was left with a nice sum of money. It's not enough to retire, move to the Maldives, and live out my fantasies—I would need a sugar daddy for that—but it's enough to last me at least a year, maybe longer if I budget. Dropping out of college wasn't the wisest idea, but I couldn't stay. Not when my ex's father is the dean and Charles is the college golden boy. Who, of course, took it upon himself to tell everyone I'm a freak.

Harlen hands me back my card. "The Halloween decorations went up today in the town square. If Miss Easton tries to corner you and ask you to be in the parade, run as fast as you can or tell her you have stage fright. She can be quite convincing. The carnival is set up as well. Maybe I will see you there, and you can save a hayride for me."

"Yeah, maybe," I say as the old man walks back inside.

"I filled up your windshield wiper fluid—it was empty—and you need an oil change. If you're staying around a while, bring her back here and I can do it for you."

"Billy is the only mechanic in town," Harlen adds .

"Boy, what have I told you about serving customers? You don't even work here."

"Well, maybe if you hired someone, I wouldn't have to serve myself and the beautiful lady."

They bicker between themselves while I swipe a town map. I wave as I head outside to my car and slide back into the driver's seat. My GPS says I should only be six minutes from the house.

Pulling out onto the main road, I follow the GPS until it tells me my destination is now on my left, and I let out a sigh as I take in the old, run-down house. It looks nothing like the photo that was emailed to me; clearly the image was not a current one. Stepping out of the car, I inhale deeply, and the scent of dried leaves and smoke fills my nose—a vast difference to the smells of the city.

The house sits between two large trees. The leaves' fall hues mixed with the smell of smoke remind me of the one childhood memory I have of this place, though it's barely even a memory. It was the one and only time my father brought me here. I figured we never came back because she had died—my father even said as much one of the last times I saw him before he left my mom. I have yet to tell her I have dropped out of school and moved ten hours away, not that she would care. She is off traveling the world with her husband, who is a writer of some popular fantasy books. They're not my thing, but millions of people read them. Mom said they are making them into movies, which is cool, and I might watch them then. I don't hate to read, and a good dark romance gets my blood pumping, but fantasy has so much world building my head can't retain all the information.

I look at the house. The paint is peeling on the siding, one of the front windows is cracked, and the garden is overgrown. A gust of wind rustles through the trees, sending a shiver down my spine, but there is something comforting about the chill in the air. This time of the year is my favorite.

The house might not look like much, but it's mine—and with a little TLC, it will soon be back in shape.