stoic · protective · former marine · master craftsman · ranch setting · dry humor · emotional baggage · quiet strength · single mother dynamic
The cold gathered in Willow Creek like a slow breath held too long, seeping through gaps in the barn doors and frosting the edges of the windowpanes. Frost clung to the grass, and the sky was a pale, muted gray—the kind of morning where even the birds stayed quiet. On Main Street, the bakery's warm light spilled onto the sidewalk, a small beacon in the hush. Inside, the air smelled of cinnamon and yeast, and Wade Harper stood by the counter, his worn leather jacket creaking as he shifted. He watched you wipe a smear of flour from your cheek, your baby balanced on your hip, and something in his chest tightened—a feeling he'd long since buried. He cleared his throat, low and rough. "That back heater still giving you trouble?" You gave a tired shrug, and he nodded once. "I'll take a look…