Page 30 of Untamed Heart

“There’s a lot we need to talk about,” I muttered more to myself than to her. “I guess that just got added to the list. But I don’t understand. If it’s been paid off, why wouldn’t she sell it?”

The ease returned to her face as she explained, “Spend enough time here and you’ll learn why. Lennon got really close with all her neighbors, and she doesn’t want to risk sticking them with someone who doesn’t match the vibe.”

I quirked a brow and shot her a cheeky grin. “And you think I match the vibe? You hardly know me?”

She shrugged that off and started up the walkway, her heels clicking against the concrete. “I have a gift for reading people,” she stated simply. “And my gut tells me you’re a good fit.”

She unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside to allow me to enter ahead of her. The house had been emptied of any furniture or personal belongings, but I could see from all the natural sunlight pouring through the big bay windows why she liked the place so much.

“There are no utensils or anything, so you’d have to bring your own. I hope that isn’t a problem.”

I shook my head as I entered the kitchen, dragging my fingertips across the cold stone on the island. The countertops and upper cabinets were a clean, gleaming white that brought light into the space. The lower ones a deep navy to offset and make the space even more inviting. The appliances were a few years old, but all stainless, and, according to Iris, they still worked perfectly.

Standing in the middle of the open, airy kitchen, I felt like I finally found the piece of myself that had been missing since I returned to Ashland.

No, that wasn’t right. I felt like I found the piece that had been missing even before I left Adam. I felt like I belonged in here, like it was meant to be. That wasn’t a feeling I’d experienced in so long. If I really let myself think about it, I hadn’t felt that kind of connection since the first day Roe came into my life.

The lack of pots and pans wasn’t a problem for me at all. Poppy had been kind enough to let me store all my kitchen stuff in a storage room off the laundry facility. It had been a relief that I didn’t have to leave all that expensive equipment in my car or have the boxes crammed into my room, taking up all the available space. Looking around at the counters and cabinets, even the pantry, I could see that there was more than enough space for all my stuff.

“So? What do you think?”

I turned to face Iris, a slow, beaming smile taking over my face. “If Lennon’s really cool with it, I think we have a deal.”

She let out a sharp squeal of excitement and shimmied her hips in an adorable little dance. “Oh, she’s totally cool with it.”

Looked like I needed to get my ass moving, because I owed these ladies some serious tasty treats as a thank-you for helping me get my sanity back.

FIFTEEN

DAKOTA

“Dakota?”My name sounded like it was coming from the opposite end of a long, dark tunnel, barely penetrating my consciousness as I stood, staring unseeing at the items on the shelves in front of me.

“Hey. Dakota?” The touch on my arm gave me a start, jerking me back into the present. I blinked, the boxes of different types of dried pasta coming into focus. “So sorry.” I turned my head to find Iris standing beside me, a hesitant smile tilting her lips up. She lifted her hands in surrender. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me.”

I let out a low chuckle and shook my head. “No, no. Please. Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just spaced out, I guess.”

We both turned to look back at the pasta for a few beats before Iris sucked in an excited breath, clapping her hands and doing a little hop on the balls of her very sexy, very cool high heels. “Are you making more recipes for Foodie Bee?”

I looked at her and smiled. “You’ve been watching?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. Ever since Pheebs mentioned it. I think I’ve managed to watch every piece ofcontent you’ve put out. I really want to try that one recipe.” She snapped her fingers as she tried to recall the name. “Ah! The Beef Wellington. That’s what it was.”

My stomach rumbled at the thought of that tender, succulent dish. It been too long since I was in a kitchen without being able to cook for myself, and I’d been eating whatever was quick and easy. I really missed cooking. It was why I found myself absently parking my car, going into the local market on autopilot, and walking through the aisles without my brain communicating with my body.

When I was stressed, I cooked. When I was angry or sad, I cooked. Hell, when I was happy, I cooked. The kitchen was my safe place. The only one I’d ever had, and not being able to do what I loved for weeks was slowly sucking the life out of me.

It might have sounded ridiculous to some people, but the grocery store was like therapy for me.

“That’s a really good one. I know it can seem intimidating, but I made sure my recipe was beginner friendly. Plus, you can always call me if you need help.”

She shot me a wink, and I couldn’t help but think that the women I’d met so far—Lennon, Iris, and Phoebe—were sweet as hell. “I’ll probably have to take you up on that. I have this bad habit of thinking I can do something because the internet said I can. Just ask the drywall I tried to patch by myself, or the mechanic who had to fix my car when I tried to change my own oil.”

Her smile and good-natured personality were infectious. It was impossible not to return the pretty, petite redhead’s smile when she gave it. “You have my number. Don’t be afraid to use it. And who knows. Maybe with enough practice, you’ll be who I call if my car ever craps out.”

We shared a laugh before she glanced back to the pasta boxes. “So, do you have something in mind or just looking for inspiration?”

I heaved out an unhappy sigh as I pulled down a box of pasta and studied it, a feeling of longing washing over me. “No,” I answered sadly. “I wish, honestly, but I’m still at the inn, and there isn’t anywhere for me to cook.”