CHAPTER ONE

GRACE THOMPSON

The two-lane highway heading into Suitor's Crossing is deserted, and I pray civilization isn't too far away. My phone's GPS said it would be ten minutes before I reached my friend Elsie's apartment, but that was before my tire blew, leaving me stranded on the side of the road.

Walking is a whole other story.

Glancing up and down the empty road, all I see is a forest of trees—a sight I admired five minutes ago, especially as a Kansas plains native. Now? It looks like the beginning of a horror movie where the heroine gets lost in the woods before being chased by a man with a chainsaw.

Not today, Satan.

I didn't move across the country for a fresh start only to meet a grisly death. My luck isn't that bad, right?

A quick Google search shows a mechanic's shop called Dusty's located a mile away, and that's all I need to boost my spirits. "That's totally doable, right, boy?"

My dog wags his tail in agreement, creating a rhythmic thumping against the backseat. Shadow and I have been cooped up in the car for hours. It'll be good to stretch our legs, even if I'm not exactly dressed for a short hike.

"Come on! Looks like our adventure starts now." Shadow jumps out and waits as I grab my purse from the passenger's side floor and lock the car. "You really are a good dog, you know that?"

Shadow tilts his head as if to say, "I know, Mom."

Laughing at his sass, we begin our trek down the road. Like travelers of old, we'll arrive at our new home on foot, something I try to consider a good omen.

Suitor's Crossing represents a new beginning after a hellish couple of years stuck living with my family. Honestly, I feared ever escaping the hole I found myself in until Avery mentioned a job opening for a local firm, and things fell into place from there.

I packed my meager belongings in the car, then Shadow and I hit the road a day after the two weeks' notice at my previous job ended. Now, we're finally here… sort of .

Majestic pines guide our path on the gravel shoulder of the highway, camouflaging any signs of an actual town within its green depths. It's so different from my childhood on the prairie.

Don't get me wrong, Kansas has its own appeal with miles of fields as far as the eye can see and gentle rolling hills intermittently interrupting the flat landscape. But this sense of being cocooned by nature comforts my soul in a way the corn and wheat fields never did.

The weather is milder, too. Rather than the thirty-degree chill I left behind, it's a cool fifty degrees, perfect for showcasing my cute but warm outfit instead of hiding it beneath a puffy winter coat.

Another way I'm trying to branch out of my comfort zone.

In an attempt to dress the way I've always wanted to, instead of how people think a curvy girl like me should, high-waisted skinny jeans hug my wide hips and ass while an oversized red and black plaid shirt drapes over a tucked-in tank. Aside from the plaid shirt, everything conforms to my curves, and as someone who never considered tucking her shirts for fear of a muffin top, I'm proud to say I actually feel pretty.

Lumberjack chic.

I should blend right into the mountain town of Suitor's Crossing. Maybe even catch a mountain man.

One step at a time.

But the thought of finally having the time and mental capacity to fall in love is intoxicating. Life these past few years has drained me of the sort of energy necessary to maintain a relationship, so it's hard not to feel giddy at the prospect of being in a better mental space—one that could result in a loving relationship.

According to Avery, Suitor's Crossing is known for bringing couples together, too. There's an old landmark bridge the town is named after, where couples went "sparkin'" or what we'd consider "dating" these days, and heart sparks are a hallmark of the town.

Love at first sight.

It sounds so romantic and easy.

What I wouldn't give to meet a man, know he's the one, and for him to feel the same way about me. We could skip all the messy middle parts of second-guessing if it's right or not.

"Would you like a dog dad, Shadow?" Aside from my dad, he hasn't been around many men lately, so all he does is huff like he couldn't care less about the male species as long as he's got me.

Sweet boy.

And yes, I realize I may be a little bit of a crazy dog mom assigning meaning to his canine responses. That's what happens when your only close friend for nearly three years is a clingy German Shepherd.

Thirty minutes pass before a garage covered in peeling paint appears in front of us. The name matches the one on my phone, but that's the only point in its favor.

"Do you think they're open?"

Vehicles litter the front gravel area, but I don't see any people or an OPEN sign. However, this is the first glimpse of civilization we've seen, so I cross my fingers and approach the front entrance.

"The lights are on. That's promising," I say as I push the door open.

A little bell rings overhead, alerting whoever is working that someone entered. The pounding of loud bass reverberates from the back of the rundown waiting room. How anyone is supposed to hear that bell is a mystery to me, but I wait at the front counter anyway while Shadow explores the small space.

Looking for danger , I suppose. Or just being a curious dog. But I prefer to think the latter.

Shadow is a naturally protective German Shepherd, but he was also military-trained, though it's been years since he was in service. It took forever for me to get approved as his owner, but the mountain of paperwork and interviews were worth it. He makes me feel safe, which calms my anxious heart and mind.

Dust floats in the air, and a light film of it coats everything in the room. It's clear no one has cleaned in a while.

Who owns this place?

Some old man who's had it in his family for generations?

Someone too focused on cars to care about upkeep?

It was probably a super cute shop back in its prime, too. The decorations and furniture look to be original, just needing some TLC to bring them back to life again.

I bet his wife took care of that before she died.

As my mind starts spinning a tragic tale of poor Dusty's life, a younger man emerges from a back door. He's definitely not the sweet old-timer I was expecting.

"Shadow." Immediately, he comes to stand by my side, attuned to the wariness in my voice. I know it's not right to judge a book by its cover, but I'm a woman alone with a man who looks like he stepped out of a Sons of Anarchy episode, and a girl can never be too careful.

The stranger studies Shadow before spearing me with his dark gaze.

"Can I help you?" His gravelly voice perfectly matches my idea of him smoking and drinking on a daily basis. Habits I normally wouldn't find attractive in a man, but paired with his voice and rugged appearance, they suddenly seem extremely sexy.

What the hell? First, you're worried he might be dangerous, and now you think he's hot?

"Um… one of my car's tires exploded a little ways up the road. I was hoping someone could tow it and replace the tire." At least my voice doesn't reveal my inner turmoil. I sound completely normal.

"Did you walk here?" His brown eyes study me from head to toe until a grim line forms on his mouth.

Instinctively, my shoulders curl forward, and I cross my arms as if to protect myself from his unfavorable assessment. Does he think I'm too fat to walk a freaking mile? The burgeoning attraction in my belly dampens at the possibility. Of course, he'd judge me.

You judged him first.

However true that may be, it still stings to learn parts of my past might follow me here, too. Like men not giving me a second glance.

Oh, sure, I wasn't in a place to accept a date back in Kansas, but the truth is no one ever asked. No one ever tested my resolve to stay single amid the drama of my family.

Guess my outfit isn't as cute as I thought.

"Yeah, but it wasn't too bad. It's pretty nice out for fall." I shrug, determined to remain composed, despite the insecurity threatening to take over. "Are you Dusty?"

The man clips a sheet of paper to a clipboard and snickers. "No, definitely not. Dusty owned this place long before it came into my possession, but his name stuck. I'm Wes." He hands the clipboard to me, and I note his finger tattoos—random symbols interspersed with black oil stains.

"Grace, and this is Shadow." I point the tip of the pen downward. Shadow must have deemed Wes safe enough, since he's sitting patiently by my side without a raised hackle in sight.

Wes nods and waits for me to finish completing the form before taking my car key. "Sit tight, and we'll get you fixed up. It shouldn't take too long."

"Thanks!" He doesn't return my smile, so it falters as he disappears back into the garage. Taking a seat by the window, I sigh. "Sorry about the minor freak out, boy." Shadow rests his head on my knee for pets, which I gladly give him.

It had been a shock seeing Wes in the place of old man Dusty. His rugged appearance screamed I could break you if I want to .

Not that he gave off those vibes in our conversation, but at first glance, my imagination went a little wild. His sleeves had been rolled up to reveal a myriad of tattoos lining his skin. No color, just black ink to match the tats on his fingers, his shoulder-length hair, and beard.

Honestly, I'm not sure if he's twenty-five or forty underneath everything, but his eyes hint at youth—ebony with a hint of laugh lines.

Although, Wes doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who laughs a lot. Maybe they're the start of glaring lines. Can you get eye wrinkles from intimidating glares?

"This mountain air might be making me a little loopy," I murmur because I can't stop dissecting my brief interaction with Wes. The anxiety windmills are spinning at full speed from his obvious disapproval of my appearance to the magnetic pull his bad boy persona has on me, despite knowing I'd never act on such an attraction. I may be turning over a new leaf— or trying to —but that doesn't mean I'm delusional enough to believe a man like Wes would be interested in a woman like me.

The thought is laughable.

Texting Elsie and Avery about the current situation, they offer to pick me up so I don't have to hang out here. I probably should've texted them the moment my car rattled to the side of the road, but the exercise was good for me. And now they can give me a brief tour of the town before I need to pick up my fixed car.

And you can fill your head with something other than the mechanic who is a dark Charlie Hunnam look-alike.