Excerpt

Chapter 1

Bridget

No! No! No! This cannot be happening! Stepping out of my Mercedes SUV, I slam the door shut behind me. This is ridiculous! I groan and tilt my head upward toward the heavens, wishing for a much needed miracle.

If I could only turn back time. Wouldn’t that be something? Oh, God, what all I’d do differently! Starting with checking out my damn car earlier in the week like Matt repeatedly told me to.

I cringe looking back at my car. A blast of wind picks up, sending a chill up my spine, and I snuggle into my coat, wrapping my arms around my waist like a lifeline.

The town around me looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place why other than the fact it’s near Amherst, Massachusetts. I prop my sunglasses on top of my head and rub my face vigorously, feeling the streaks of mascara from crying for the past several hours. My hair is a mess of curls wrapped into a sloppy bun. Exhaustion sweeps through me, and I know I look like I just watched a marathon of Sally Field movies.

When I hopped into my car this morning, my plan was just to drive around for a while, collect my thoughts, maybe stay at one of my two best friends’ places for the night, and go back home. Instead, I drove around Boston for a few hours before finding myself on the Massachusetts Turnpike, leaving the city limits behind me. A weight had lifted off me as the city skyscrapers grew smaller and smaller behind me, and the sight of country and farmlands had come into view.

As I glance around and take in my surroundings, I feel as though I’ve entered a new world in the form of a charming, small, historic town. Toto, we’re definitely not in Boston anymore. I shut my eyes and inhale the fresh air before reopening them again to do a double take. For once, a constant stream of high-rises and skyscrapers doesn’t surround me. Noisy streets cluttered with pedestrians or crowded subways and bus stops don’t have the power to distress me. The millions of cars passing by while I attempt to open my car doesn’t exist here.

In front of me is a restaurant called Side Street Café. Behind me, a beautiful courtyard fills the center of the historic setting. Sturdy brick buildings outline the square. I look to my left and notice a small movie theater, a bakery, and a natural foods grocery store. To the right, a small dance studio connects to an active community center, a pizza place is nestled next to an equally busy juice bar, and a few quaint shops dot the spaces between. Across from where I stand, I spot a sushi place between a bookstore and a trendy thrift store called Upscale Cheapskate.

It’s a quintessential small town. But too far away from home. Ninety minutes away to be exact. My mind spins knowing Matt is more than likely freaking out not knowing where I am right now. And to make matters worse, my car is now broken down in the middle of this town, and I’m all alone.

My heart beats against my chest like a drum in a marching band. A little too fast and a lot too loud.

Attempting to find my inner zen, I take several deep breaths, trying to convince myself everything will be just fine. All I have to do is get my car to an auto shop. Easy peasy, right? Yes, everything will be fine.

Except it won’t.

Not with how I’d left things this morning.

“Are you lost?”

A voice breaks through my anxious thoughts, making me jump, and I turn to notice an older gentleman standing next to my car. My surprise must be evident because his eyes soften with compassion.

“Sorry, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Bill Davis.”

The man shoves his hands in the pockets of his pressed denim jeans. In dark-brown penny loafers and untucked, green button-down dress shirt, his casual demeanor puts me instantly at ease. His gray hair reminds me of Marlon Brando’s hair in The Godfather, and his mustache completes the resemblance. His emerald eyes shine with a warmth threatening to thaw the ice surrounding my heart as of late.

“No, I’m not lost,” I reply. “My car decided to break down while I was passing through,” I grunt, and narrow my eyes at the car as if it were a misbehaving child.

A chuckle escapes the stranger’s throat, and he makes his way to the front of my car. “Oh. Well, nothing is open at this hour, but let’s have a look. Can you pop open the hood?”

I rub my arms with my hands as worry rolls through me. Trust isn’t something I come by easily. Especially for men I don’t know.

My stomach chooses that very moment to rumble, reminding me I haven’t eaten all day, heightening my anxiety. I tuck the loose strands of hair escaping my bun behind my ears and shift on my feet. I suppose I can get my car towed back to the city if I need to and still be home in time to eat dinner.

The city.

Meet Author Callie Sutcliffe…