III. Dimples & Dinner

Aurora

H eath asked me to hang out in the cabin until he came and fetched me for dinner. But screw that. As cute as his vintage cabin is, I need to be outdoors. The clear air caresses my skin, soothing my lungs with sharp juniper and the musty scent of pine needles decomposing underfoot.

Slipping back out the kitchen door, I take a proper look around. Rough tree trunks rise around me, reaching toward the sky. Unable to resist, I run my fingers down the bark, savoring the texture.

Wildflowers and trailing scrub cover most of the ground, with worn paths through the underbrush snaking out in several directions. Everything feels so fresh and green and my soul soaks it up greedily, as if I had been starving for life until this moment.

With my sketchbook under my arm, I settle cross-legged on the edge of the porch. Delicate white flowers burst from dark greenery around the closest tree. My eyes follow the winding footpath as it darkens in shade and then brightens in sharp relief when the boughs part and sunlight streams down.

My pencil skates over the paper, the shape of the landscape forming with soft lines curving and crossing. The scale of this viewpoint is interesting. Close enough for details while still maintaining the towering scale of the aged trees.

A twig cracks and my pencil jolts from my hand.

Taking a steadying breath, I turn to search for the source. A man stands a few feet away with a sheepish expression on his face. The dappled sunlight gilds his short, messy hair and highlights a square jaw. He doesn’t have the refined features of my sister’s partner, but there’s something classic about him.

He moves with a grace I don’t expect from anyone that muscled, his triceps flexing as he scoops up my pencil from the dirt and presents it to me. Not that I was looking.

“Sorry I startled you,” he says, soft and low.

“No, it’s fine,” I stammer, forgetting all of my social skills in that moment. Sliding the pencil into the spirals of my sketchbook, I set it aside and wipe my palms along my torn jeans.

“You must be Aurora,” he says, his gaze meeting mine. Gray-blue eyes like a brewing storm hold me captive. His pupils widen, swallowing up the blue.

“Yeah,” I say, my mouth finally remembering how to speak. “I figured I’d get a head start with being a good Auntie and be here for the little one’s arrival. Plus I haven’t seen Hazel in like two years. A girl needs her sister sometimes, you know?”

This man listens to my babbling without moving or even changing his expression. Anyone else would have shifted their weight to signal that I’m making them uncomfortable. He stands still with those stormy eyes fixed on me like I’m sharing secrets of the universe. When he speaks, it’s tentative and thoughtful. “I get that. I miss my brother when we go too long between visits.”

“Yeah,” I say, thrusting my hand toward him. “It’s nice to meet you…” I trail off, hoping he takes the hint.

A calloused and warm hand envelops mine. “I’m Cedar. I’m cousins with Slate, your sister’s m- partner.” His mouth twitches into a frown for a fraction of a second.

I narrow my eyes, looking for the resemblance. His hand releases mine and cool air washes over my warmed skin, leaving a trail of tingles.

“I’d better get back to work,” he says, ducking his head as he turns away. The back of his hair is just as messy as the front, short caramel waves going in different directions, streaked with platinum. My fingers ache to touch, but he’s a stranger and I will definitely not be touching his hair.

On instinct, my eyes flick to his swinging left hand, looking for a flash of metal. Nothing. He seems older than me but not by much. Maybe he’s Hazel’s age.

“See you later!” I yelp, nerves rising up and tightening my throat.

Looking over his shoulder, he smiles at me. Full lips curve, hollowing dimples in his cheeks. Freaking dimples. My stomach clenches and I forget how to smile back until it’s too late and he’s already striding through the trees down a path I can’t see.

Maybe it’s all the exposure to nature, but he looked so vibrant and healthy. Hazel did too with her glowing skin and gleaming hair. If I stayed longer, would I start to look that lovely?

Exhaling slowly, I tip my face up and savor the sunshine across my skin. The soft rustle of leaves relaxes me as a breeze brushes against my cheek. Already, I feel better, like the nature around me is soaking into my soul.

“Hey, you,” Hazel greets me. She moves slowly, somehow graceful even when her walk has become a bit of a waddle.

“Are you mad I came?” I ask, setting aside my sketchbook and pushing off the porch steps.

Hazel scoffs, her nose scrunching as she shakes her head. “Of course not. Sure, more notice would have been nice, but I could never be angry when I get to see you.”

She supports her belly with a hand while the other rests on her hip. Instinctively, I reach a hand out, withdrawing before I touch her.

“Here, come feel. Baby is kicking a ton today.”

My palms go to her belly. It feels hard, not squishy at all like I imagined. Hazel raises an eyebrow and then guides my hand to her side. The skin ripples under my fingers. I jerk back with a yelp.

“Was that the baby?” I cautiously reach for her again.

She laughs at my surprise. “Yeah, it’s pretty weird, right?”

“So weird.” I don’t pull away the second time I feel it.

“They must like you,” Hazel murmurs.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, dropping my hands.

She continues to rub her belly. “Pretty good, considering. I mean, this is getting rather uncomfortable, but I know it won’t last that much longer.”

“When exactly are you due?”

“Next week.” She shrugs, unconcerned. “But first-time mothers usually go late, from what I’ve been told.”

“Are you going to a hospital?” I ask, biting down on my lip as I realize that healthcare access might be a problem out here.

Hazel shakes her head. “I don’t have any complications and we’ve got a nurse here who is more than qualified for a delivery. Actually, she’s delivered most of the kids around here.”

“That makes it sound more like a cult,” I tease.

“That’s what I said when I first got here.”

“But, to be clear, it’s not a cult. No weird rituals I’ll need to watch out for?”

Hazel’s smile is uneven, giving me the distinct feeling she’s holding something back - not the reaction you want to get when you’re worried your sister is a cult leader.

“Of course not. Just people working and hanging out. I think you’ll like it around here. I did.”

“Yeah,” I say, my brows furrowing as I watch her for other clues.

“So, are you hungry? It’s about time for dinner.”

“Cool, where are we eating? Your cabin?” I ask, stepping back onto the porch to retrieve my belongings.

“Oh, actually everyone eats together most days. We have a chef and a baker, and it’s just easier for them to make big meals for everyone,” she says.

“Sounding a bit cult-ish again,” I mutter, laughing dryly when she rolls her eyes at me.

“You’ll want to grab your sweatshirt, Ror. It’ll get cold once the sun goes down.”

“Alright, Mom .” Popping inside, I toss my sketchbook onto the dresser of the guest room and grab my sweatshirt off the bed.

Hazel waits at the steps, her arms crossed over her belly. “Come on,” she says, seizing my hand and tugging me forward.

When she said everyone, she meant the entire community. Thirty or forty people meander around a clearing. The trees are sparser here and buildings form a wide loop. A vintage-style diner sits on the opposite side, where most people gather.

Dozens of eyes follow me. “How often do people visit? I’m getting weird vibes,” I whisper to my sister.

Hazel sighs, her elbow jostling me as she unlinks our arms. “It’s not that common, but I think most people know you’re my sister so they’re just interested because of that.”

“What have you been telling them?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

She leads us toward the door where Slate waits, talking with Uncle Heath. “Come on, it’s a buffet,” she says, allowing Slate to open the door for her.

“Wow,” is all I can say as the smell of garlic and cheese hits me. A gleaming countertop stretches the length of the building, stacked high with platters of pasta, meat, salad, and bread.

Hazel grabs a plate and begins to load it with breaded chicken, pesto pasta, and fluffy slices of garlic bread. I follow her example and even take a serving of salad.

Slate and Heath trail behind us. It’s as if everyone is waiting for Hazel to go first before they get their own food. As we step out of the far door, I spy a line forming out the door.

Picnic tables surround the diner, stretching into the forest. Hazel heads to a table on the south end and plops her plate down before sliding onto the bench with a soft grunt. Suppressing my smile, I take the seat beside her. Slate is right behind us and claims the spot on her other side.

“This all smells amazing,” I mutter, drooling over the parsley-speckled garlic bread oozing with butter. I’m so enthralled with my food that I hardly notice as others join us.

“Hey there,” a young woman says. She sits across from Hazel, wearing a vivid emerald sweater and a dainty daisy headband threaded into her reddish-gold hair.

“Hi,” I say automatically.

“I’m Marigold. I’m sure Hazel has mentioned me, but I’m her best friend,” she says with a confident wink. Positive energy radiates off of her, and I instantly like her.

“Oh, good to know she’s got you and it’s not a total testosterone fest over here,” I say, tipping my head toward Slate.

Marigold lets out a giggle. “I’m so excited to finally meet you.” She glances around the table. “Normally, my boyfriend, Jasper, would be here too. He’s Slate’s brother, but he’s visiting their sister.”

Nodding, I pick up my fork and pop a spiral of pasta into my mouth to have something to do.

Another person walks toward us, and I recognize the boy from earlier. Slate’s cousin? Cedar? He walks with his head down, eyes on the ground. As he settles onto the bench beside Marigold, I clear my throat.

“Hey, nice to see you again.”

“Again?” Marigold asks, looking between us with a smirk on her pink lips.

Cedar is unbothered. “Yeah, I walked past the cabin and she was outside.”

“I was sitting on the patio drawing. It’s gorgeous outside, I couldn’t stay indoors,” I explain, feeling a blush creeping up my neck even though I did nothing wrong.

“Oh, that’s right, you’re an artist!” Marigold chimes. “What’s your medium?”

“Watercolor, but I like to switch it up sometimes. Pencils, pastels, gouache, but watercolor is my favorite.”

“She paints landscapes,” Hazel says.

“Oh! Are you going to paint while you’re here?” Marigold asks.

“That’s the plan,” I say, reaching for the phone in my pocket for the question that always comes next.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” Marigold says. With a shy smile, I hand over my phone with the photos app queued up.

Marigold swipes through, her face growing more animated. “These are freaking gorgeous!”

“Thanks.”

“Slate, I think she’s better than you are!”

“I don’t doubt it,” he rumbles, his eyes not leaving my sister.

“It’s not the same thing,” I mutter. “You know, I’d love any advice on finding good views for painting. Anything scenic or interesting is great.”

“I’d love that, but I’m usually busy during the day. I’m the local teacher and those kids keep me busy.” She shrugs and gives me an apologetic half-smile.

“I can take you,” Cedar interjects. Those gray-blue eyes rise to mine. “I manage our garden, so my schedule is flexible.”

“If you don’t mind,” I say, my whole body tensing. “But I’m sure you’re busy. I’ll be fine on my own, or you can just point me in the right direction.”

“I’m ahead of schedule because of how warm it is. The spring planting is almost done, so I’ve got plenty of free time.” He doesn’t pressure me, just states the facts in that calm way of his.

“You definitely shouldn’t go alone. I’d take you myself, but now’s not a great time for hiking for me,” Hazel says with a light laugh.

Heat creeps up my neck as I hold Cedar’s gaze until he glances down. “If you are going to help me with finding locations to paint, I can help you in the garden. It’s only fair, and I really like gardening.”

The edge of his mouth quirks, like a smile is breaking through. Warmth stirs in my stomach. I’d love to see those dimples again. “Do you do a lot of gardening at home?”

“No, I wish.”

“I’ve got everything handled, but you’re welcome to come see it.”

“I’d like that.” I tear my eyes away from his and feel my blush redouble when I see how high Marigold’s eyebrows are arching. A small smirk twists her lips. What did I do? I wasn't flirting. Maybe things are just so boring around here, anyone new is entertaining for them.

Scowling to myself, I stab another bite of pasta and look away into the trees as I chew. I must be reading the table wrong. This isn’t a group of starving artists and actors in Los Angeles.

Hazel and Marigold discuss baby things while I disassociate. When Hazel stands, I blink in surprise. Our plates are mostly empty.

“I’d better get her home,” Slate says, his hand on Hazel’s lower back.

She lets out a yawn and then nods. “Yeah, I’m wiped. Rory, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Goodnight, Mama,” I say, giving in to the urge to pat her belly.

Marigold rises and stacks our plates. “I’ll drop these in the kitchen. Cedar, are you on dish duty tonight?” He shakes his head. “Good, you can walk Aurora back to Heath’s cabin.”

“Um, that’s okay. I remember the way.”

Cedar’s open mouth closes.

“It’s getting dark quickly and the forest looks different after dark. There aren’t city lights out here. It’s pitch black. You need someone to help you, sorry.” Marigold leaves no room for arguing as she walks away, balancing the stack of plates in front of her.

“Sorry,” Cedar says.

“I really think I’ll be fine on my own,” I protest.

He huffs, shaking his head. “She’s right about it being dark. My family’s cabin is near Heath’s, so let's walk together. Just to be safe.”

My lips press together, keeping my arguments contained. I pride myself in being capable, so the entire situation irritates me. But this gorgeous man wants to walk through the trees with me, and that’s hard to say no to. I feel my resolve slipping. “Okay, fine.”

Cedar allows me to take the lead as we cross the clearing. I may think I have a general idea of where Heath’s cabin is, but as soon as we reach the shadow of the trees, I am entirely lost. But Cedar doesn’t tease me or point out my failure. Instead, he walks beside me, subtly directing my steps with his own. My ego purrs. When was the last time I met a man who doesn’t jump at the chance to say I told you so?

That appreciation is replaced with an unnerving sense of disorientation as the trees swallow up all available light around us. The starlight through the branches can’t reach us and taunts me as it paints the highest branches in silver.

Grinding my molars, I slow and step carefully, trying desperately to keep track of the man a few inches away from me. Surely he won’t let me walk into a tree. Does he know the forest so well he can walk in the pitch black? Haven’t they heard of a flashlight?

My foot catches, my body jolting forward as my momentum turns to falling. There is no time to cry out, my body tensing for impact. Before I hit the ground, hands close around my upper arms, halting my nose-dive so suddenly, I let out an embarrassing “Umph.”

“You okay?” Cedar asks as he levers me back to standing.

“Yeah, totally,” I say, doing my best to sound cool and collected. Never mind that my heart is hammering in my throat so hard, I’m sure he can hear it.

He sighs, clearly not fooled by my bravado. It’s probably the shake to my voice that gives me away. “Aurora, why don’t you hold on to my arm. We are almost there, but I know it’s too dark for you to see.”

Gently, his hand finds mine, guiding it to his arm. Holy biceps. My breath stalls as I wrap my other hand around his arm, feeling the muscles shifting under my fingertips.

“Thanks for catching me,” I murmur, internally berating myself for feeling up his arm, even if he placed my hand there.

He doesn’t seem to mind or he’s too polite to react. I can’t see his face, but his voice is casual as he says, “No problem. This is exactly why I wanted to walk you back. It wouldn’t be a good vacation if you broke your arm on our uneven trails.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t want to be a burden for Hazel. I’m worried I’m adding to her stress,” I admit, though I’m not sure why I’m opening up to this almost stranger.

Cedar doesn’t answer for a long minute, but his free hand covers mine. “Step up, there’s a rock here,” he says.

I ignore how his voice turns my stomach all gooey. He’s my sister’s new family, not someone in the city. She would have to live with the consequences if I hit it and quit it, and something tells me Cedar isn’t a playboy on hookup apps.

His hand falls away from mine once we are over the offending rock, though I still cling to his upper arm. He’s going to have to pry me off at this rate.

“I can tell she’s excited you’re here. I think she missed you.”

My eyebrows furrow as the sentiment sinks in. “I missed her too. I should have visited a year ago.”

Cedar’s pace slows as Heath’s cabin appears between the dark columns of tree trunks. “It seems to me that right now is the right time.”

I’d like to question him, but there’s something about his tone that feels sage, like he is an oracle passing down wisdom to mere mortals.

“Yeah, I suppose so. Well, good night!” I say, reluctantly releasing him before he tries to shake me off. Stepping onto the porch, I glance over my shoulder to see his striking profile illuminated by the cabin’s golden glow. My assessment of him as an oracle feels fitting because in this moment he could pass as a Greek god.

“Good night,” he echoes, shoving his hands in his pockets as he ambles into the darkness. I watch him until he disappears, and then shut the door and click the lock out of habit.

“Hey, Rory. You can leave that unlocked.” Heath greets me from the leather sofa. He cradles a faded paperback with curling edges in his hands. “Have a good evening hanging out with Hazel and everyone?”

“Yeah, I can see why she likes it here so much.”

He nods his head absently. “Yeah, it’s not too shabby.”

“I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Without looking up, he says, “I’ll be out tomorrow all day, so don’t worry about me. You can enjoy the cabin and the meadow, but don’t go hiking without someone with you. It’s too easy to get lost. We don’t have marked trails.”

“No problem.” I don’t have any plans for tomorrow aside from breaking out my sketchbook, so it’s easy to agree.

A faint buzz vibrates under my skin as I wash up and curl up under the vintage quilt in the guest room. The day feels like it was endless, with my drive, settling into this cabin, and making new friends over dinner. They were all so nice, it makes me smile into my pillow. Not too shabby, indeed.