Page 35 of Timber Ridge
He takes a bite. “It definitely tastes good.”
We sit in silence and eat. Every time I glance at Kane, he's looking at me. Caught in his gaze, I feel like a mystery he’s intent on figuring out. It’s a little unsettling, but also thrilling to be seen so closely.
He finishes his last bite and says, “Hailey, sweetheart, when you're finished, get your brush so I can comb your hair. We still need to clean up and feed the chickens before we leave.”
“Why don’t you feed the chickens while Hailey and I clean up and get ready, unless the chickens are one of her chores.”
“No, this will actually save time. Hailey’s more likely to pick each one up and say good morning, which takes a lot of time. If you’re willing to do the dishes, and her hair, it will be like killing two birds with one stone.”
I laugh. “No need to kill the birds. I'm happy to divide the chores.”
He rises and places his plate in the sink. When he returns, he kisses me on the cheek. The soft press of his lips throws me completely off guard. For a heartbeat, everything stands still.
When he steps back, his eyes widen, and his mouth falls open. “I'm so sorry. I just … it's a habit.” His apology is rushed.
“It's okay,” I say, the corners of my mouth lifting in a genuine smile. Despite the surprise, the kiss leaves a lingering sweetness, not only on my skin but somewhere deeper. It’s a small, intimate connection that seems as natural as it is unexpected, and I can’t shake the feeling it stirs inside me.
“Are you in the habit of kissing all girls on the cheek?”
He shakes his head so hard I fear he'll scramble his brain. “No, I never kiss anyone.” His denial is so serious it only stokes my fearlessness.
Despite knowing it isn't wise, I tease him anyway. “Too bad. I bet you're a great kisser.” There’s a thrill in this light-hearted banter, a flirtation with what-ifs that I know I should probably avoid—but don’t want to.
He’s caught off guard, words faltering for a fraction of a second, his eyes locking with mine. There's a question there, but any further response is cut short by Hailey’s voice piercing our little bubble.
“I kissed Tommy once on the lips, and he said he didn't like it.”
Hailey's innocent interjection changes the dynamic. His previous look of curiosity at my teasing comment about being a great kisser shifts abruptly. When Hailey mentions her own experience with kissing, it's a jolt back to reality for Kane. His brows furrow, signaling a shift from the playful tension between the two adults to his protective parental mode. “No kissing boys until you're thirty-five.”
I bite back a laugh. Thirty-five, he says. By that benchmark, I'd have missed out on a lot—the sweet taste of a first kiss, the bitter end of a marriage, and the rich lessons each heartbreak brought. Sure, I could have dodged the pain, but then, I wouldn't have grown. The kiss on the cheek, light as it is, is another piece of the universe's puzzle laid before me. I don't have the full picture yet—why that kiss, why now—but I trust that it's all part of a larger design. Every experience, every connection, has its moment, even if its purpose isn't immediately clear. This kiss, casual as it is, might just be the universe’s way of telling me there’s more in store for me.
Once Hailey is finished, we clean up. I wash while she rinses, and when we're done, I pull her hair into a ponytail.
“There you go, princess. Grab your jacket. It looks like it might rain later.” Hailey bustles around, looking for her things, while I open the refrigerator to make lunches. I gather sliced turkey, cheese, and bread. I'm not sure how much food Kane needs, but I imagine with his hard work, he'll need a few sandwiches. If he plans on staying out late, he'll need more. I whip up several meals and fill his cooler with water bottles I find in the kitchen corner, bagged chips in the pantry, and cookies he has hidden on a top shelf—probably to keep out of Hailey's reach. On the counter is a notepad and a pen. It’s likely the one Kane used to write my note. It was such a sweet thing to do. It reminded me of the notes my mom used to tuck into my lunch bag. Each little message was like a hug, a reminder in the middle of a school day that I was loved. I want Kane and Hailey to feel as wanted and appreciated as I did as a child.
So, I scribble a quick note for each of them. Nothing too heavy, just a nudge to make them smile. For Hailey, it's a smiley face to brighten her day, and for Kane... Well, it's a whisper of something more, something that says I'm here, thinking of you even when you're miles out at sea.
When Kane comes in, he sees everything ready to go. “You made our lunches too?”
“It isn't a big deal. It's best when people work together as a team.”
“I agree, but I'm not used to that. If you keep being this nice to us, we may never let you go.” His words hang in the air for a heartbeat, and I can tell they’ve caught him off guard just as much as they have me. There’s a brief look of surprise in his eyes—the kind that says he hadn't planned on being so candid. Then, a half-smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, and he holds my gaze, steady and unwavering.
“I'm sure you'll welcome it when it's time for me to go,” I say, my voice light, but inside, my stomach does a slow somersault. The idea of being wanted, of someone hoping I'd stay, sends a ripple of something sweet and terrifying through me. I catch a glint in his eye that makes me wonder—does he sense it too? This pull, this back-and-forth we're doing around each other's lives. He's so different from my ex-husband, who never seemed to grasp the concept of us, of teamwork. And here is Kane, valuing my presence, almost as if he's reluctant to think about a time when I'm not here. “Shall we?”
We walk outside to the ATV. Kane buckles Hailey into her seat, and I take the passenger side. As we drive along the path, I'm awestruck again by his land's beauty. I can't understand why more people don't stay in this place, and then I remember the plans May and I made yesterday.
“Did I mention that we're going to do a community potluck a week from Sunday?”
Kane's brows furrow slightly. “It's a great idea, but I'm not sure how many will come.”
“I don't know either, but it might be fun,” I say optimistically. “Isn't being a part of a community what this town was founded on?”
His expression shifts as he considers my words. “That was then, but things changed.”
“They're going to change again,” I say, meeting his gaze with determination. “And who knows, maybe this potluck will be the start of something new.”
“Maybe.”