309 Wildflower Falls Way Read online

  309 WILDFLOWER FALLS WAY

  A Cherry Falls Romance Book 10

  KATE HUNT

  Copyright © 2021 by Kate Hunt

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  All rights reserved.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  1. Aspen

  2. Wells

  3. Aspen

  4. Wells

  5. Aspen

  6. Wells

  7. Aspen

  8. Wells

  9. Aspen

  10. Wells

  11. Aspen

  12. Wells

  13. Aspen

  14. Wells

  15. Epilogue — Aspen

  Welcome to Cherry Falls!

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  ASPEN

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t think about anything. Just breathe in. Breathe out. That’s it. Breathe in…

  On my last exhale, I open my eyes, feeling utterly and completely relaxed—which is a rare thing for me. It’s been an exhausting week at the cafe, and even today, on my day off, I’ve spent the whole time taking care of work-related things.

  But coming up here to Wildflower Falls has been restorative, to say the least. Even just sitting down on this huge flat rock, closing my eyes, and taking a few minutes to do nothing but breathe has felt so cleansing.

  This will forever be my happy place.

  The falls have always been a beautiful sight to behold, but this place is especially stunning right now with the sun going down behind the trees. Golden light is filtering through the branches and the waterfall in front of me looks almost otherworldly as day transitions into night.

  As I’m admiring the scenery, though, something catches my eye and my focus shifts away.

  My smile falters as I realize there’s a piece of trash floating in the water. It looks like an empty chip bag. Ugh. Did someone seriously toss that here instead of putting it in a trash can? What is wrong with people?

  I stand up on the rock I’ve been sitting on and look around for something I can use to fish the trash out from the water. There’s a broken branch nearby. That’ll do. I step away to grab it and then return to the rock and use it to reach for the bag.

  Damn. Close, but not close enough.

  I lean out over the water, straining. The tip of the branch is so close to the floating bag. If only it would float its way toward me another inch or two. I lean a little further out, just a little bit—

  Oh, shit.

  I try to regain my balance, but it’s too late. I’m falling into the water, sending a huge splash up in tandem with the curse flying from my lips. The water tries to swallow me up, but I refuse to let it. I snatch the piece of trash that got me into this mess and pull my soaked self up out of the water.

  So much for feeling restored.

  Grumbling, I shake off as much excess water as I can and start walking back toward my car. At least I’m not far from home. It won’t be long until I’m back in my apartment, changed into dry clothes, a warm cup of tea in hand.

  The last bit of sunset slips down behind the surrounding trees as I reach my car. I unlock the door and get in, immediately shoving the keys into the ignition. But when I turn them, the engine just sputters, then dies.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  I try again, even though my gut is telling me there’s no point. After another few failed attempts, I give up. Right. Okay. I’ll just call someone, get this problem taken care of…

  …except, as I find out a moment later, my phone is dead from its little dip in the water.

  I’VE MADE it about a quarter of a mile down the road on foot when I hear a car approaching from behind. I’m walking on the opposite side of the road, so I don’t need to move over, but I do anyway, moving further onto the shoulder as I wait for the approaching vehicle to rush past.

  Instead, the vehicle slows down.

  “Need a ride?”

  I don’t recognize the man’s voice that speaks to me, but there’s something about it that sends a little shiver through me. Not a shiver of fear. A shiver of something else, something I can’t quite put my finger on.

  “Thanks, but I’m good,” I say, keeping my eyes on the road. My dad raised me to be able to take care of myself, and that’s not about to change now.

  “Yeah?” The voice is laced with amusement now. “Doesn’t look that way to me.”

  Bristling, I whip my head to the side, ready to tell this dude to mind his own business. I don’t need to be rescued, thank you very much. He can go find another damsel to save.

  But the words dissolve on my tongue as my eyes take him in.

  I’ve never been one to swoon over a guy. That’s not my thing. I’m not into romance or fairy tales or any of that kind of stuff. And yet the sight that greets me sends another one of those weird shivers up my spine.

  It’s his eyes that I notice first. They’re blue. A rich, deep blue. And full of curiosity. I take in his smile next—his warm, friendly smile that to my surprise doesn’t have a hint of ego to it. And then there’s the rest of him: his dark brown hair is tied up into a man bun, and his arm is resting on the edge of the rolled-down window of his truck—a muscular arm covered in tattoos. My eyes cling to his arm for a few seconds before I drag them away.

  What the hell is wrong with me? It’s not like I haven’t seen a tattooed guy before.

  And yet there’s something magnetic about him. So magnetic, in fact, that it’s only now that I realize he’s not alone. There are two other guys in the truck with him—one in the passenger seat and another sitting in the back seat, leaning forward between the front seats.

  “You sure you don’t want a lift?” the driver says.

  Thing is, his offer does seem genuine. There’s a kindness in his eyes that I can’t ignore. So for a second, I hesitate. It would be nice to get a ride. But too much holds me back.

  “I’ll get your seat all wet,” I say, and keep walking.

  He keeps his truck at pace with me. “And I’ll dry it off later. It’s no big deal.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not going to inconvenience you.” These guys are probably on their way to a bar to try to pick up girls or something.

  “You’re not inconveniencing us.”

  “Even so,” I say. “I don’t get into cars with strangers.”

  “Right. My bad.” His smile widens, his white teeth flashing at me. “I’m Wells, and this is Miles and Carter.”

  God, he’s persistent, isn’t he?

  I hear another vehicle coming and look up to see a police car driving up the road. Without being obvious, I glance at Wells to see how he reacts, and he seems unaffected as he looks in the mirror and sees the police car arrive. That makes me relax a little.

  The police car slows as it nears us, moving into the lane between myself and Wells. The window of the police car rolls down to reveal the cheerful face of Graham Larson, our sheriff here in Cherry Falls.

  “Everything all right, ma’am?” he asks, eyeing me with concern.

  “Yep,” I say. “I’m fine.”

  Sheriff Larson rolls down his passenger window and ducks his head to get a look at the truck. “Oh, hey there, Wells.”

&nbs
p; “Afternoon, Sheriff.”

  “You bothering this nice young lady?”

  “Just offering her a ride.”

  “My car broke down,” I tell Sheriff Larson. He nods, then waits for more of an explanation. I look down at my wet clothes. “And I…it’s a long story.”

  “Right. Well, I’m sorry to hear about your car. I’d be happy to give you a lift to—”

  The radio on his dash crackles and he plucks it out of its cradle to answer it. Some static-peppered words come through that I can’t make out.

  “Sorry, ma’am. I need to take this. Want me to send someone else out here to help you out?”

  I shake my head. “No. That’s all right. Thank you, Sheriff.”

  “All right. Take care now,” he says, then leans over to wave through the passenger side. “See you, Wells!”

  “Later, Sheriff,” Wells says, raising his hand in a wave. He waits for Sheriff Larson to speed off down the road before looking over at me again. “I’m going to ask one more time, and then I promise we’ll leave you alone. Can we please give you a ride?”

  I look up the road. It’s getting darker by the minute. I’m not afraid of walking in the dark, but it’s not exactly the safest thing in the world. There’s also the issue of time; the auto repair shop might be closed by the time I make it there on foot.

  I meant what I said about not getting into cars with strangers. On the other hand, my gut’s telling me that Wells is a good guy. If he’s friendly with Sheriff Larson, that’s gotta count for something, right?

  “Okay,” I say, letting out a little sigh as I cross the road to the truck.

  “Miles, dude, get in the back,” Wells commands, and his friend obliges, tumbling into the back seat. I reach up to open the passenger door, but before I can, Wells leans over and opens it for me.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, climbing up into the seat. I avoid his eyes as I click my seatbelt into place. I hate that I’m in this situation right now. It’s bad enough that I have to get a ride from someone, but the wet clothes make it all the more mortifying.

  “So. Where to?” Wells asks.

  In my periphery I see him glance over at me, but I keep my eyes ahead on the road. I can only imagine how pitiful I must look to him right now. I’m soaked from head to toe and the little bit of makeup I put on this morning is surely smeared.

  “The auto repair shop.”

  “All right. Blake Brother Auto Repair it is.” He eases down on the gas pedal and starts to drive. I’m grateful when he turns up the volume knob on his radio a little, letting the chorus of a country song gently fill the car. Between that and the mindless banter going on in the back seat between his two buddies, it doesn’t feel necessary to try to make conversation.

  Apparently, though, Wells doesn’t feel the same way.

  “Did you just move to Cherry Falls?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, still watching the road. “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

  “Did we go to school together? I don’t remember you.”

  “I was homeschooled.”

  “Ah. Gotcha.” He slows for an intersection and makes a turn onto another road. “What was that like?”

  No one’s ever asked me what being homeschooled was like, and to be honest, I’m not sure what to say. It’s simply a part of who I am. I also can’t talk about being homeschooled without talking about my dad—he was the one who brought me up all on his own. In addition to all the traditional school subjects my dad taught me, he also taught me how to survive in this world. It’s thanks to him that I know how to start a fire, know how to handle a gun, know how to keep myself safe.

  “Wouldn’t have had it any other way,” I finally say.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Wells give me a curious glance. He waits for me to go on, and when I don’t say anything more, he lightly clears his throat.

  “Do you work in town?”

  “I own the Pine Cone Cafe.”

  “That’s just up the mountain, right?”

  “It is.”

  “I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve never been. I’ll stop by sometime.”

  Once again, I’m at a loss at how to respond. Part of me wants to say I’d like that; the other part of me wants to tell him he doesn’t need to stop by. But neither response feels right. I know I need to say something, though. He’s making an effort to be friendly, and I’m barely reciprocating.

  “How do you know Sheriff Larson?” I ask.

  “You familiar with the Holidaze Arcade?”

  “Yes.” I’ve never been inside, but I know of it—it’s down in Kissme Bay.

  “There’s a bar in the back. That’s where I work. Usually it’s a pretty chill environment, but once in a blue moon a brawl breaks out. Sheriff Larson has been the one to come by when I’ve needed some assistance.”

  “I see.”

  Suddenly a groan comes from the back seat. “Jesus, Miles. Did you just let one rip? We’ve got a girl in the car!”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “Sorry about those two,” Wells grumbles.

  “Yeah, sorry, uh—” A head, which presumably belongs to Miles, materializes between the front seats. “What’s your name?”

  “Aspen.”

  “Sorry, Aspen.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Miles sits back, picking up his conversation with Carter. Wells glances over at me again.

  “So. Aspen. Can I ask how you got all wet, or would you rather not talk about it?”

  I feel my shoulders stiffen. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Fair enough.” He makes another turn. We’re in town now. “That sucks about your car breaking down. Hopefully it’s an easy fix.”

  “I hope so, too.” I see the sign for the auto repair shop and shift in my seat, readying myself to get out. “Thanks again for the ride. And sorry for interrupting your night.”

  “You weren’t interrupting anything.” He pulls up in front of the auto repair shop and puts the truck in park before looking over at me with a smile. This time, I force myself to look at him. It’s the least I can do.

  “Seriously,” he adds. “I’m glad we could help.”

  My sternum vibrates with a weird, warm feeling, but I push it away. This isn’t a moment. This isn’t anything. He’s just being nice to me. That’s all.

  I open up the passenger door and step out. I grimace when I see the mess I’ve left behind—there’s water pooled in the passenger seat—but Wells doesn’t seem to care.

  “Just going to make sure you’re all set before I drive off, if that’s okay,” he says.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t. But I want to.”

  It’s obvious I’m not going to convince him otherwise. I nod and put my hand on the door to close it. “Thanks again. Goodnight.”

  “Night, Aspen.”

  As I walk away from his truck, I can feel the protective heat of his gaze. Part of me hates it; the other part of me, to my shock, actually feels touched by it. The two conflicting feelings make my stomach twist.

  At least the auto shop is still open. Exhaling a relieved breath, I open the door and walk in.

  Chapter Two

  WELLS

  I keep glancing in the rearview mirror as I drive away from the auto repair shop, even though I can’t see Aspen anymore. My heart is still pounding like crazy from meeting her.

  Even drenched, she was the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.

  Not that it was the time or place to do anything about it. She’d clearly had a bad day and I wasn’t going to be an opportunistic asshole and hit on her.

  Still, I couldn’t stop myself from sneaking glances over at her. Or smiling at her. Or thinking things I know I shouldn’t have been thinking.

  I shake my head, silently chiding myself for letting my mind go there. For all I know, she’s got a boyfriend. Or she’s looking for a relationship. And I don’t do relationships.

 
; For her, you might…

  Yeah, right. Why am I even considering the possibility? I’ve been there, done that. Learned my lesson. Moved on.

  But Aspen isn’t your ex. Aspen could be different…

  Goddamn it. Why do I have to torture myself with thoughts like this?

  Seriously, though, I can’t believe it’s taken this long for our paths to cross. I’ve lived in Cherry Falls my whole life—all twenty six years of it—and I definitely would have remembered Aspen if I’d seen her around.

  Then again, there’s the whole thing about her being homeschooled, and I pretty much stick to hanging out at the same handful of places all the time. So maybe it isn’t so crazy after all.

  I’ve always known that I’d stay in Cherry Falls my whole life. It’s never felt too small or too boring of a place for me. It’s home. Besides, I’m not the type to go off to some huge university or to try to get a job in a big city somewhere. Big cities simply aren’t my thing.

  I can’t say I have the most riveting life. But I’m grateful for what I’ve got: two loving and supportive parents, a couple of really good buddies—Carter and Miles may be a bit goofy at times, but I love ’em all the same—and a job I actually enjoy. I’ve been bartending at the Holidaze Arcade and Bar since getting my bartending license, and I’ve never considered working anywhere else.

  The arcade is old school. There’s Pac-Man, Space Invaders, Street Fighter, all that good stuff. I love the sound of a room full of games being played all at once, love the shouts of victory and indignant defeat from the players, love the laughter peppered into it all. Life’s too damn short not to have fun, and every time I work a shift at the bar, I feel thankful to hear all that joy.

  A lot of dates happen in the arcade, too. I know I’m biased, but I honestly think it’s the perfect place for that kind of thing. I know it’s where I’d bring a girl on a date.

  But like I said, I don’t date. Not for the foreseeable future, anyway. Maybe someday far off in the future I’ll change my mind, but for the time being, I have zero interest in taking that risk and getting hurt again.