Chapter 2

LINDSEY

Iplaced the spider plant on the end table and stepped back to look at it. It had taken an entire day for the moving crew to transfer the contents of a one-bedroom apartment to this beautiful cabin in the mountains. The moving truck had hit a rut in the unpaved road, jarring the contents and spinning the tires. They had to get out and push, but finally the truck jerked back into motion, and my furniture arrived safe and sound.

There were three bedrooms, a kitchen/living room area, and one bathroom. I put my bed in the furthest bedroom, along with a dresser, a vanity, and a nightstand. In the living room, my sofa and love seat faced the fireplace instead of a television. If I really wanted to watch Netflix, I could use my laptop, but I didn't want the ugliness of a big screen TV to interfere with the rustic charm.

There was an end table, coffee table, two lamps, and a China cabinet that had been given to me by my aunt. I was trying to decide how to decorate and where my two potted plants should reside. The spider plant didn't fit on the end table. Its tendrils spilled over onto the floor. I picked it up and brought it over to the kitchen island, tucking it unobtrusively in one corner. That was better, but now there was the problem of dirt in the kitchen. Maybe the plant would be better off outside? I decided to look in the hardware store for one of those outdoor plant hangers.

I left the plant where it was and stepped out onto the porch. Outside, the sun was rising through the trees. I could see it just about to break free from the branches. A squirrel ran across the patch of dirt and sparse grass that separated my new home from the forest. It picked up an acorn, nibbled at it, and darted away. Beyond my car and the narrow road that led back to town, there was nothing out here that spoke of civilization.

I have been living in Singer's Ridge my whole life, but I had never owned a piece of the mountains. Sure, in high school, we used to drive out to remote spots for bonfires and drinking parties, but that wasn't the same as living in the forest. The last two days had been wonderful, waking up to the sounds of birds chirping, going to sleep to the sound of crickets humming. There was such an expanse of space, I felt like I could truly be myself.

After graduating from high school, I went to a beauty academy in a neighboring town. I got certified and found a job doing hair in Singer's Ridge. It wasn't a great job, money-wise, but I loved seeing my clients' faces light up when they were pleased with their new appearance. I had worked in the same salon for almost six years, and my clients must have gotten tired of hearing me complain about my little apartment.

One of my regulars, Ms. Addy, told me about a rent-to-own cabin her cousin's husband was offering. I signed the lease and agreed to pay rent for a full year. In exchange, I would have the sole opportunity to buy the property at the end of the term. It was perfect.

The cabin looked depressingly bleak. It needed some color, maybe a painting or a cozy Afghan rug. I grabbed my keys and hopped in the car. A quick shopping trip should give me some more decorations to play with. I could grab some groceries while I was out so I wouldn't have to worry about food for a few weeks.

My first stop was a Walmart in the next town over, and the home décor section, where I could find just a few more pieces to round out my living room. While browsing framed mirrors, I ran into one of Singer's Ridge's newest residents, Macy Ford. I had seen Macy in the grocery store when she worked as a cashier years ago. She was pushing a cart with a toddler in the seat and a baby carrier in the basket.

Since everyone knew everyone else in Singer's Ridge, it was a normal thing to strike up a conversation. "You don't have a lot of room for your shopping," I observed.

She laughed. "It's true, but I wouldn't have it any other way." She peered at me through strands of hair that had fallen loose from her bun. "What are you here for?"

"Oh, I'm renting a cabin," I said, turning back to the display of mirrors. "I'm trying to spruce it up. Which one do you think?"

"You're renting a cabin?" Macy sounded interested and completely ignored my question. "Where?"

"Just north of town," I said. "Off of Miller Road."

"My husband and I have a cabin off Miller Road too," Macy said. "We just might be neighbors."

"Really?" I laughed. "Do you love it?"

"We love it," she confirmed. She turned back to the mirrors. "Maybe that one, with the gold frame."

"I was thinking the same thing," I said, placing the chosen mirror into my cart.

"I love your hair," Macy said conversationally.

"Thanks." I reached up to brush the well-placed strands. "I'm a hairdresser."

"Really?"

In his seat, the toddler began to fuss, reaching out chubby hands to his mother. She lifted him out of the shopping cart and settled him on her hip.

"I work in town. You should come by," I said.

"I think I will," Macy said. "Dillon can watch these two for a couple hours."

"I work Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday."

"Saturday's perfect," Macy said. "I'm Macy Ford, by the way."

"I know." I smiled. "Small town. I'm Lindsey Parker."

"My reputation precedes me?" Macy joked.

I shrugged. "There aren't that many people who settle in Singer's Ridge." There were even fewer people who had missing posters plastered all over the grocery store, but I kept that observation to myself. I knew Macy had worked at the grocery store as a cashier, and then the missing posters went up. When she resurfaced, she began working as an art therapist, got married, and started a family. There were more than a few people who gossiped about it while sitting in the salon chair. But Macy didn't need to know that. "If you give me your number, I'll text you the address."

Macy removed a strand of her hair from tiny fingers and smiled. She recited her cell phone number while I typed it in. I sent her a quick text so she would have my number as well.

"I'll see you on Saturday," I said.

Macy laughed, shaking her hair out to the delight of her child. "As long as I have hair left by Saturday," she said.

I had never wanted children, not really. I enjoyed babysitting when I was younger, but the thought of all that responsibility made me uneasy. Still, watching Macy with her son made me consider the possibility that there might be something redeeming about parenthood. She seemed to be happy.

I made my purchases at Walmart and moved on to the grocery store in town.

I was examining apples when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. When I looked up, there was a man standing at the salad bar with his back toward me. He had a shopping basket in one hand, which meant he wasn't there to buy much. His shoulders were wide and square, his back straight. My eyes followed the line of his figure all the way to a toned butt, snug inside a pair of jeans.

My heart leapt, and I felt a pang somewhere even lower. The man turned to move toward the bakery area, giving me a full side view of his face. His jaw was cut and dark with stubble. His eyes were calm, and yet, tired. I had never seen him before, and in a town this size, that meant he wasn't local.

I longed to introduce myself, to ask where he had been and whether he was staying in town. Maybe he would want to have a drink, and we could go back to my new cabin and… I stopped myself before my thoughts could go any further. Whoever he was, it was none of my business. I forced myself to focus on the apples, choosing the biggest and brightest to make it into my cart.

When I looked up again, the man was gone. My mind called up an image of him walking toward the bakery, like that residual pattern you see if you stare at something bright for too long. It was as if his body was burned into my retina, too perfect, too masculine. I shook my head. I didn't know what came over me. I usually wasn't this crazy.

I finished my shopping, hoping to run into him in every aisle. I didn't see him again, though. He must have taken his basket to the checkout lane and disappeared. I loaded my purchases into my trunk, slammed the lid closed and climbed into the driver's seat. I had something better than a hot guy waiting for me at home, I told myself. I had my very own cabin in the mountains.

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