My life in Strawberry Springs was predictable. Feed the chickens at sunrise. Weed the garden before the heat. Set fresh sourdough on my farm stand by eight.

Then Caleb Thorne started showing up.

He was tall, unfairly handsome, and far too polished for our dusty little town. Every morning he bought bread, eggs, and something he definitely didn't need.

After two weeks, I finally asked: are you feeding an army?

He just smiled. "Just finding reasons to come back."

Then he leaned in. "Could I get your number? For specialty orders."

Before I could answer, Mabel grabbed my arm. "Nora... that man didn't move here by accident."