Chapter 1

Chapter One

Noah

The life of a Huber driver. That's Huber , with an "H."

I'd only been doing this gig for two weeks, but I already had a routine. I vacuumed the back seat and the floorboards daily. In case any of my fares got thirsty, I kept tiny bottles of water in the front seat in an old Igloo cooler I'd found at a thrift store. Jimmy Huber—my new boss—told me it was a waste of time to make customers comfortable, but I thought people liked it. Sometimes just the offer made someone smile.

I worked the evening and night shifts for Jimmy six days a week in Cozy Creek, Colorado. I was one of only two drivers. Henry preferred the morning and daytime shifts, and I didn't have the motivation or the seniority to fight him on them. Jimmy pulled an occasional shift as needed, and for the most part, the three of us had this tiny tourist town handled as far as ride-shares went.

See, we only drove for the locals. It was a Jimmy rule. And with the way his operation worked, there wasn't really a way for outsiders to contact us unless they knew someone in town. And even then, Jimmy was very picky about who we picked up. All ride-share requests went through him—in the most technologically offensive way possible, but whatever. I wasn't in charge here. I just drove my Bronco and picked up locals as instructed. I needed this job if I was going to save up enough money to uproot again.

Cozy Creek was inundated with tourists several months out of the year, or so I'd been told. It was an idyllic little town that drew skiers and snowboarders in the winter—people with money to burn on the nearby slopes. Out-of-towners also flocked to my brand-new town during autumn to check out the fall foliage and small-town entertainment. Cozy Creek was the best, worst-kept secret in Colorado. Or at least that was what this famous social media influencer once said, and now the town had it plastered on all their marketing materials.

It seemed nice, so far. I was used to the whole small-town thing. I was from a rural speed bump over in eastern South Carolina. But the difference was, my hometown was dead and dying. There was no tourism to revive it. Factories closing and little commerce to speak of, the streets and neighborhoods of Baxter, South Carolina, looked bleak when compared to the bright, shiny Main Street I was currently driving down.

Two weeks wasn't really enough time to get settled. But I hadn't brought much with me to Cozy Creek. I'd sold off most of my things and made the twenty-nine-hour drive across the middle of the country to start a new life. Expectation hadn't really meshed with reality, but that wasn't the town's fault. So, here I was, making the best out of a twisted situation while I saved money and collected my shredded pride. Driving a Huber .

My upcoming rider was one point two miles away at the Shady Peaks apartment complex, just outside of downtown. Following my vehicle's navigation, I made it through a traffic light and turned into the parking lot where a collection of buildings sat, each rising four stories into the deep blue sky. It looked nice and well-tended, and most of the cars in the lot were firmly middle class.

A woman stood on the sidewalk in a pale orange dress. She ignored the bench behind her and, instead, stood staring down at her phone, with what appeared to be an iced coffee in hand.

Quickly glancing at my own phone mounted on the dashboard, I checked the name of my rider and then slowed my approach as I regarded the pint-sized woman tapping the toe of her leopard-print ballet flat on the concrete. No one else was around, so this had to be my next ride.

My eyes narrowed as I took in the riot of long wavy blond hair around her face—a face that appeared youthful and at odds with my current expectations. She looked to be around my age. Maybe slightly younger than my own twenty-seven years.

My approach didn't divert her attention from the screen of her phone, however. Her fingers clutched the rainbow case in a death grip.

It was early September and a gorgeous seventy-one degrees Fahrenheit, so my windows were already down. I cleared my throat, not wanting to startle the girl. "Um, hi. I think I'm here to pick you up. Are you Luanne Billings?"

The woman's head jerked up at my announcement, and wide gray eyes met mine before she winced. "Please call me Lu. Luanne is a sixty-five-year-old woman with a beehive who chain-smokes Virginia Slims. I'm twenty-five and, well . . . none of those things."

She slid her phone inside her giant purse and hoisted it onto her shoulder.

"So you prefer Marlboro, then?" I teased.

She laughed and produced some sunglasses from somewhere—probably the bodybag slung over her arm. "No, I don't smoke." Her gray eyes were still smiling, right along with the rest of her as she walked around to the rear passenger-side door and climbed in, sliding the shades on her face. "And my beehive is in the shop."

I bit down on my grin as I waited for the sound of her seat belt to click into place. Pulling up my navigation, I input her destination. It was a restaurant on the outskirts of town. I hadn't been there yet, and from all the little dollar signs below the search results, I couldn't afford it even if I wanted to.

"So you're new," my passenger stated from the back seat as I checked my mirrors and eased away from the curb. It wasn't phrased as a question, but I'd been getting the same version of it from curious residents since I started working for Jimmy.

"Yeah, I took over for Zoe." It was the answer I'd been handing out to everyone, a shiny offering to distract and keep them at a distance.

Shortly after my disastrous arrival, I'd seen the job posting on a corkboard in the coffee shop downtown for a local car service. I'd called the number on the flyer and interviewed with Jimmy the same day.

Jimmy Huber was a no-nonsense ex-cabby from Manhattan. He'd driven for over forty years before retiring to Colorado where he had family—a sister and two nieces. Cozy Creek was too small to support Uber or Lyft employees the way a bigger town might, and the locals occasionally needed rides in, out, and around town. He'd seen a need and used his experience to create something completely unhinged and ridiculous but profitable.

Riders called Jimmy with requests, and he texted his drivers their pickup and drop-off details. If something came up and we couldn't make it, Jimmy took the fare himself. But that was pretty rare. Henry—the dayshift Huber driver—loved driving and listening to audiobooks in his car. And I was too poor to turn down any income thrown my way. Riders paid in cash at the end of their ride. Even after hearing that Huber had been up and running for over eight years, I honestly couldn't believe the whole thing worked as smoothly as it did, but I was two weeks in, and nothing strange had come up yet. And I was making enough at an hourly rate from Jimmy and my tips from riders to get me back on my feet and hopefully on my way.

"Oh, she had the baby already?" Lu asked as she put some lipstick on using my mirror to check her reflection.

I focused on her question and tried not to be distracted by the shape of her lips or the bright red she deftly streaked across them. "Not yet, but soon, I think."

I still felt a little weird about replacing Zoe. Jimmy's gruff voice and Brooklyn accent informed me at my interview that he needed to find someone to take over the young woman's shifts. "She's pregnant with her second kid, and the first car seat was already taking up too much room in the back seat," he'd said. I'd tried really hard not to make a face at that and figured I'd mostly succeeded because I got the job and started picking people up the following day. He'd explained that the service was for locals only but occasionally residents would tell a friend or family member visiting from out of town about us. And apparently, that was okay as long as Jimmy liked them.

I was pretty much trying to stay on Jimmy's good side, what with the aforementioned poverty.

"So what's your name, New Zoe?" Lu's voice rose over the rush of fresh air blowing in through the windows.

I peeked in the rearview mirror to find her smiling with those red lips and blond hair blowing all around. "I'm Noah," I replied, quickly looking away. The restaurant was up ahead on the right.

"Are you new to town? Or just passing through?"

I cleared my throat, focusing on driving and answering with the same response I'd given to everyone else who'd asked. "I'm new. Only been here a couple of weeks so far." It was really hard to get a job when people thought you were temporary. So I hadn't advertised my plans to be on my way to anyone. Maybe that was dishonest. But, again, see above: poverty.

Lu made a soft hum I almost missed with the breeze, but then she asked, "So what made you move here? Cozy Creek is pretty small and out of the way."

I hesitated and found her scrutinizing me in the rearview mirror. She wore sunglasses, and I couldn't see her eyes, but I could feel her attention like a sunlamp warming my skin.

Huffing out a little laugh, I admitted, "It's kind of embarrassing."

I didn't know why I'd told her that. I hadn't confessed as much to the other nosy Cozy Creek residents who'd asked.

"Oh, reallllly?" Now, I had her full attention. The prospect was both distressing and electrifying. She had a cool-girl vibe, like the pretty, popular head cheerleader from high school. Being the center of her focus now made me feel like a bumbling loser by comparison.

"Let me guess." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "You're a beekeeper?—"

"An apiarist," I interrupted.

"Really?"

I chuckled. "Yes, that's what they're called."

"Why do you know that?"

"I don't know. I just remembered it from something I read."

"Okay, nerd," she said, causing me to burst out laughing in surprise. When was the last time someone had teased me? It had been a while.

"You're a beekeeper," she repeated. "And moved here to work out at Sutton Farms, but you realized too late that you are deathly allergic to bees."

"But not too, too late," I countered.

She nodded. "Clearly. You're still breathing."

Her ridiculous statement drew another laugh out of me and she preened in the back seat as a result, those red lips framing even, white teeth. "No, that's not it. But close."

Lu's grin went supernova. "I'll just keep guessing."

That sobered me a little, and I returned my focus to the road. I doubted she'd be able to guess how I ended up in Cozy Creek. I sure as shit hadn't seen it coming myself.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Noah," she called into the quiet between us before my sudden silence could make it too awkward. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other."

"Oh, yeah?" I wondered, somewhat disquieted by the prospect.

"My car is in the shop," she explained.

"I thought it was your beehive."

Another laugh. This girl was friendly. She seemed like she laughed a lot, the sound easy and free, her lips shaping her grin effortlessly. But I still got a warm feeling in my chest that I'd amused her and drawn that bright, happy sound out. The sunlamp sensation spread at a distressing rate.

"My beehive and my SUV both," she confirmed, still smiling.

Slowing, I turned on my signal and pulled close to the restaurant door. The parking lot was full, and a few well-dressed people crossed in front of me to enter.

"Why Lu?" I asked suddenly before I could stop myself. There was no real reason to ask beyond curiosity. I nearly cursed myself out loud. It was dangerous to be curious about anyone here. "Why not Anne or Annie or a middle name since the beehive doesn't fit?"

She stayed quiet for a moment, still buckled up in the back seat despite being parked at the entrance. "I don't know. I've always just been Lu. My mom called me that since I was a baby."

Not moving, Lu still stared out the window, so I prompted, "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

She finally turned to meet my gaze in the mirror. "I just need a minute. First-date jitters."

So she was going on a date at this fancy restaurant. "Oh, yeah. Sure." I rubbed my palms down the legs of my jeans, ignoring disappointment I didn't have any business feeling—for a variety of complicated reasons.

Lu eventually pulled off her sunglasses and tucked them back into the cavern of her big leather purse. She let loose a long breath before passing me the cash for her fare. After thanking me, she climbed out of the car to stand next to my window on the sidewalk. After a sip of her nearly empty iced coffee, she said with a grin, "I'll see you around, Noah."

My grip tightened on my steering wheel as I forced myself to look at her. She was pretty, I realized. Objectively so. All ready for her date in her cozy fall sweater dress. Seeing her and that bright smile and killer red lipstick, it was hard to ignore how beautiful she was. But there was something else—something approachable and friendly in her loose hair and those laugh lines that hinted at how often she found a smile.

Clearing my throat, I said quickly, "Yeah, see you around, Luanne."

A perfectly arched dark-blond eyebrow rose. "None of that, beekeeper."

I allowed the small smile I'd been fighting, reluctant to admit that she was pretty and funny and apparently a single person who dated. "Sorry. Sorry. Good night, Lu."

I was done being charmed by women. If I needed a reminder about why, I only needed to take a helpful gander at my new surroundings.

I refused to let myself think about red lips or wild blond hair or quick-witted Lu. She was a stranger. I didn't know her. And sometimes even when you thought you knew someone, you didn't. Not enough to trust them, anyway.

Maybe I'd see her again. If, like she'd said, her car was in for repairs. She'd be just another local calling for a Huber.

I didn't allow myself to wonder if she'd be okay in there. Or to question how she'd get home without her car. And it definitely wasn't my place to wonder if she'd go home with whomever awaited her inside. It wasn't my place to wonder about her at all.

Making my way back toward Main Street, I decided I'd stay central to town in case another ride request came in from Jimmy. I took in the shiny shop windows and the people walking the brick sidewalks in their flannel and puffy vests. They looked happy and eager to soak in the magic of autumn. Gourds and sunflowers decorated many of the entryways while bright yellow, red, and purple mums swung from hanging baskets on every lamppost. The Rockies loomed in the background as the tourists stopped to take selfies and point at the architecture of the old buildings downtown.

A marquee in front of the visitor center advertised the upcoming pumpkin-judging contest next month, telling people to "Go Big or Gourd Home." I wondered if I'd still be driving people around town by then, tense as I scanned faces in the crowd. Would my one-bedroom apartment above the Cozy Creek Confectionery feel like home, or would I be packing up my meager possessions to start over again?

Twenty minutes later, at 7:14 p.m., a text came through from Jimmy. I blinked at the name on the request before cursing and making two left turns to head back the way I'd come.

Curiosity I had no business feeling worked its way under my skin as I drove.

The restaurant was in shadow as the sun had fallen behind the snowcapped mountains in the distance. Lu stood out front with her comically large purse dangling off her shoulder. She grinned as she watched me bring the Bronco to stop beside her.

"Fancy meeting you here, Louis Armstrong. Date over so soon?"

Somehow, her smile grew wider, and I had to wonder what had happened. Did the douchebag stand her up? She didn't seem too upset about it, regardless.

"Yeah, it didn't work out," was all she said as she hopped down onto the parking lot asphalt and went around to climb, once again, into the back seat. "But if you're hungry, I know a great place for burgers. My treat since I made you come right back and pick me up."

My brow furrowed in confusion along with an instinctual dose of suspicion. "You requested a ride. You're paying me. You don't have to thank me with food."

"Fine," she replied, unbothered. "Then I'll buy your silence about my dating fail tonight."

I took in her cheerful expression with reservation and, again, wondered what had gone on inside that restaurant.

"Burgers and bribes, Noah," she singsonged. "Come on."

She was so . . . ridiculous. But charming. And fascinating. I could feel myself being taken in by her. That sunlamp warmth lighting up my skin despite the growing darkness.

"Fine," I said, releasing a put-upon sigh. "But there better be tater tots."

I detected a sage nod from my rearview mirror. "Of course. Can't have a decent burger without tots." And then she smiled, full and flattering, like she knew she'd won and was used to things going her way.

Then I didn't care anymore about the loser who'd missed out tonight.

I could have a burger with a pretty stranger in this temporary layover of my current life. It didn't have to mean anything. And it definitely didn't indicate I was letting my guard down.

I had no plans to do that anytime soon.