school. Whether it was a random run-in at the supermarket or sitting at a table near each other at the Star Lite, Caitlin always had a snarky word for her. Some people knew how to hold a grudge, and Caitlin Reynolds was one of them.
Her arch rival’s parents owned the cottage next to Emma’s and sometimes rented it out during the summer months. Since Emma started dating Michael, Caitlin rarely stayed there.
She turned around, shooting Emma a smug look. “Morning.”
“Morning,” Emma chirped back. God, put some pants on.
“How’s Michael?”
Bitch! Caitlin knew they were broken up. The whole town did.
“Just fine,” Emma shot back and stood. Typical Caitlin to take a cheap shot at her. If she stayed on her deck a minute longer, she was sure her petty rival would take another. She closed the glass door and sighed. Her mother would be disappointed to learn that the new bachelor with dimples to die for appeared to be already taken. Good. Any guy interested in Caitlin Reynolds was definitely not for her.
3
J ason hopped out of the shower and grabbed the crisp white towel he’d set on the bathroom counter, wiping the moist drops from his face. Sleeping in this morning was exactly what he needed. He’d thought he’d heard someone knocking on the door earlier, but he just couldn’t drag himself out of bed to see who it was.
Feeling invigorated, he now needed to get a move on it. There was a lot of ground to cover.
First, he needed to check in with his editor. Tina had approved his trip to Buttermilk Falls. She’d laughed the whole time and said if he didn’t file the story by Friday, she was sending the men in white coats.
He wasn’t crazy—or was he? It was only two days ago that he’d sat in the tacky Vegas wedding chapel listening to Tom go on and on about some magical cake spell predicting that Bridget would be his wife. It was the wackiest story he’d ever heard, but nevertheless, intriguing. So much so, he wanted to learn more, if not fully get to the bottom of it.
Plus, he wasn’t really in any hurry to head back to his life in Miami. Truth be told, he’d been thinking of leaving South Florida for some time. Sure, he loved his waterfront condo on South Beach, but being there also reminded him of the life he’d lost.
Buttermilk Falls was a nice change of pace. It reminded him of the time he spent in New England for journalism school. Although it was no Beantown, the town did appear to have a subtle charm from what he’d seen. Perhaps this place could give him some clarity, or at the very least, provide a nice break from the city. If he wrote the article fairly quick, he could spend the rest of the week fishing or hiking the nearby hills.
Tom had mentioned that the view of the falls from the hilltop was spectacular. He’d enjoy a good solitary hike on a beautiful summer day. Although, he’d have to buy some hiking shoes. The current contents in his suitcase were more suitable for a night out in Sin City than the outdoors.
His stomach let out a large growl. Before he did anything today, he needed some fuel. Then he would begin exploring Buttermilk Falls and one bakery in particular—the Powdered Fork or Peppermint Stick or something. He couldn’t actually recall its name, but how many bakeries could be in this blip of a town anyway?
He dressed hurriedly in jeans and a white T-shirt and headed to the kitchen. His eye caught the backside of his new roommate crouched down in front of the opened refrigerator. She was dressed in a long, light blue shirt that he immediately recognized. He suspected there wasn’t much else on underneath the fabric.
“Hey.”
“Jason!” Caitlin sprung up and shut the refrigerator. “Did I wake you? I was just getting a snack.” She batted her eyelashes in his direction and pointed to a bowl filled with strawberries. With a mischievous smile, she held up a can of whipped cream.
“No. I was in the shower.” He went over to the coffee maker. The strong