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Beneath The Autumn Sky

Beneath The Autumn Sky

Precie Ben

5.0
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14
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In the charming coastal town of Willow Haven, Grace Delaney is starting over. After a devastating breakup and the closure of her small bakery, she returns to her hometown to regroup and rediscover herself. Enter Lucas Hayes, a former big-city architect who has moved to Willow Haven to escape his own troubled past. When a community project brings Grace and Lucas together, their undeniable chemistry begins to spark. But Grace's guarded heart and Lucas's lingering guilt over a family tragedy threaten to tear them apart. As they navigate the challenges of trust, healing, and love, the autumn leaves falling around them remind them that letting go of the past may lead to a brighter future.

Chapter 1 1

Grace Delaney tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her knuckles white against the dark leather. The coastal road to Willow Haven curved sharply, flanked by towering pine trees on one side and the endless expanse of ocean on the other. The late afternoon sun bathed the horizon in shades of amber and gold, a breathtaking view she'd once taken for granted.

The radio played a soft acoustic tune, but it did little to soothe the whirlwind of emotions inside her. Returning to her hometown felt like stepping back into an old pair of shoes-familiar but ill-fitting. She hadn't been back in years, not since leaving for culinary school and chasing dreams that now felt like fragments of a different life.

Pulling into the driveway of her grandmother's cottage, Grace killed the engine and sat motionless for a moment. The house stood just as she remembered it-quaint and welcoming, with ivy curling around the wooden porch posts and a small, hand-painted sign that read Welcome to Rosewood Cottage.

She pushed open the car door and inhaled deeply, the salty tang of the sea mingling with the earthy scent of pine. It grounded her in a way she hadn't expected. With slow, deliberate steps, she made her way to the front door, her suitcase trailing behind her. The key, worn and familiar, turned easily in the lock.

Inside, the cottage was untouched by time. Faded floral wallpaper covered the walls, and crocheted doilies adorned the furniture. A framed photograph of her grandparents sat on the mantle, their smiling faces a bittersweet reminder of happier days.

Her chest tightened. She'd come here to heal, to rediscover herself in the quiet of the town she once called home. Yet standing here, surrounded by echoes of her past, she wasn't sure if she was ready.

The sound of a knock startled her from her thoughts. Turning, she found her childhood friend, Mia Caldwell, peeking through the screen door with a wide grin.

"Grace! You're finally here!" Mia swung the door open and pulled her into a tight hug. "It's been forever!"

Grace returned the embrace, her tension easing slightly. "Hey, Mia. I wasn't sure you'd still be in town."

"Of course I'm here," Mia said, stepping back to study her. "You look... different. Not bad, just different."

"Life does that to you," Grace replied with a small smile.

Mia tilted her head, her expression softening. "I heard about the bakery. I'm sorry, Grace. That must've been tough."

Grace shrugged, not ready to unpack the full weight of her failure. "It is what it is. I'm here now, and that's what matters, right?"

"Absolutely." Mia's eyes sparkled with excitement. "And speaking of being here, you couldn't have picked a better time. Have you heard about the new community center project?"

Grace shook her head.

"It's all the town's been talking about," Mia continued. "Lucas Hayes-the architect overseeing the project-is working on turning the old lighthouse property into something amazing. They're hosting a fundraiser next weekend, and I immediately thought of you."

Grace raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think of me?"

"Because we need your baking skills! Everyone still remembers your strawberry tarts from high school bake sales. You'd be perfect."

A protest formed on Grace's lips, but Mia cut her off. "Think about it. It's a great way to reconnect with the community, and who knows? It might even help you find some inspiration."

Grace hesitated. She'd come to Willow Haven to escape, not to get involved. Yet Mia's enthusiasm was infectious, and the thought of baking again stirred something deep within her.

"I'll think about it," she said finally.

"That's all I ask." Mia grinned. "Now, let's get you settled. I'm dying to catch up."

The hours slipped by as the two women talked, their laughter filling the cottage. By the time Mia left, the sun had set, and Grace felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in months-hope.

The next morning, Grace awoke to the sound of seagulls and the distant crash of waves. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, painting the room in warm, golden hues. She stretched, savoring the rare sensation of waking without a heavy weight on her chest.

After a quick breakfast of toast and coffee, she decided to take a walk through town. Willow Haven was just as picturesque as she remembered, with its cobblestone streets, brightly colored storefronts, and the faint aroma of saltwater lingering in the air.

Stopping outside the local café, she debated whether to go inside when a deep voice called out behind her.

"Excuse me. You're blocking the entrance."

Grace turned, her cheeks flushing slightly. Standing before her was a man in his early thirties, tall and broad-shouldered with sharp, angular features and piercing blue eyes. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he held a cup of coffee in one hand while balancing a stack of papers in the other.

"Sorry," she muttered, stepping aside.

"No problem." He gave her a polite nod and moved past her into the café.

Curiosity sparked as she watched him disappear inside. Something about him seemed out of place, yet oddly intriguing.

Shaking off the thought, she continued her walk, eventually finding herself near the old lighthouse property. The site was bustling with activity, construction equipment scattered across the landscape. Workers moved purposefully, their shouts blending with the hum of machinery.

"Grace?"

She turned to find Mia approaching, clipboard in hand and an excited gleam in her eye.

"Perfect timing!" Mia said. "I was just about to introduce you to Lucas. He's the one heading the project."

Before Grace could protest, Mia was dragging her toward the site.

"Lucas!" Mia called out, waving.

The man from the café looked up from his blueprints, his expression neutral as they approached.

"Grace, meet Lucas Hayes. Lucas, this is Grace Delaney, my best friend and the best baker you'll ever meet."

Lucas extended a hand, his gaze steady. "Nice to meet you."

Grace hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking his hand. "Likewise."

Mia beamed. "Grace is considering helping with the fundraiser. Maybe she could set up a baking booth or something."

Lucas nodded. "We could use all the help we can get. The fundraiser's crucial for securing additional funding."

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," Grace said quickly, feeling her cheeks heat under Lucas's piercing gaze.

"No pressure," he replied, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

Mia clapped her hands together. "Great! Now that you two have met, I'll leave you to it. I've got a million other things to do."

Before Grace could protest, Mia was gone, leaving her alone with Lucas.

"So," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "Are you always this enthusiastic about helping others, or is it just me?"

Grace blinked, caught off guard by his dry humor. "I didn't say no. I just... need time to think."

He nodded, his expression softening. "Fair enough. But if you do decide to help, let Mia know. She'll rope you into it either way."

Grace couldn't help but smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

Walking back toward the cottage, she replayed the encounter in her mind. Lucas Hayes was a puzzle, and she wasn't sure she wanted to solve it. But something about him, and the project, stirred a sense of curiosity she hadn't felt in a long time.

Maybe, just maybe, Mia was right. Getting involved might be exactly what she needed.

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