Page 10 of Love at First Write

Don’t worry about missing the Bluebonnet Festival this year. You know Saddle Creek. There’s another festival right around the corner. I think we’ve got the Peach Festival next, right? That one is always my favorite. True, it’s hot AF during the Peach Festival, but… Peaches! Totally worth it.

I had forgotten that you probably don’t know Olive. She moved here from England about a year ago. She is an amazing baker, but, not as good as I am. ;-) My best friends, Gracie and Caroline, and I are thinking about opening a bakery. We’ve been doing cakes and cookies and stuff on a semi-professional basis for the past year.

Right now we use the semi-professional kitchen at Gracie’s parents’ house at night to bake in, but that’s a pain. We’re hoping to get our own space soon. If we can open by the time the Wine Festival rolls around next year, that would be perfect.

But enough about me…

I know you can’t give me details about your missions, but Leah said you were in Turkey recently. Any chance you got to see the mountains in Cappadocia? Visiting there is on my bucket list.

Anyway, write back if you have the time.

Stay safe,

Kelsie

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Too many festivals and your weird bucket list

Kelsie,

Okay, I have questions…

First off, why Kelsiethekelpie? Isn’t kelpie another word for mermaid? I know you said you were friends with Leah, but please tell me you’re not thirteen.

Second, a bluebonnet festival, a peach festival, *and* a wine festival? What the hell is up with Saddle Creek and all the festivals?

Third, yes, I have been to the Red Mountains in Cappadocia. They’re stunning. But do you even know about them? That’s not a place on most people’s bucket list.

chapter five

Ethan

Dammit.

It’s taken me a hell of a lot longer to get here than I expected. True to my word, I’ve been sending Kelsie emails regularly. As best I can tell she hasn’t read them. Or maybe she’s read them and is just ignoring me.

Who could blame her? I told her I was coming for her, then that last mission went sideways, and it’s been three months since I told her that. Two months of hospitals and doctors’ visits and physical therapy. A couple of major surgeries to repair the tendon in my calf that had been ripped apart by shrapnel. A few minor ones. More PT.

I’m so fucking tired of PT.

Three months since I’ve heard from her. But I’m not giving up on us yet.

I arrived in Saddle Creek less than forty-eight hours ago. While I was laid up in the hospital, I did my usual recon work before coming to a new location. I am well versed in the Saddle Peek, the online gossip site for the town. I knew that there was a friendly competition between Ruthie’s Diner and Ace’s Bar and Grill as to which one of them had better French fries. And I’d ascertained that Kelsie and her friends’ bakery, Sugar Bakers, didn’t serve pie because Ruthie was a master pie maker.

Something I could attest to since I’d actually tried every variety she sells in the week I’ve been here. For the record, the chocolate is the best.

Have I seen Kelsie?

Yes.

But I was not prepared for Kelsie in the flesh.

The first time I saw her, she stole the breath from my lungs. I’ve never been what you would call a fuckboy. I’m not a player. But I have always loved women. If you’d have asked me what my type was, I would have said I didn’t have one. Because all women are beautiful in their own, unique way. I still believe that.

But watching Kelsie walk from her car to the bakery was a goddamn revelation. She is my type. Everything about her—save the color of her eyes because I haven’t been close enough to see them yet—looks custom made for me.