Morning :) Here is a small sample of the first 3 pages of chapter 1. Please note this is an unedited share. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments (please keep in mind this is clean read small town romance)
Chapter 1 – The Road Back
The tires hummed against the two-lane stretch of asphalt, a
sound that had always meant one thing to Claire Jennings — she was getting
closer to home. But the word home felt complicated now, weighted with
the ten years she’d been gone and all the choices that had kept her away.
The late June sun slanted through the windshield, scattering
gold across the dashboard of her dusty SUV. Her fingers tightened around the
steering wheel as the landscape opened before her, a panorama of Montana
countryside she’d forgotten she missed.
Rolling pastures quilted in shades of green stretched out on
both sides of the road, stitched together by weathered wooden fences. Beyond
them, the dark blue rise of the Gallatin Range formed a jagged crown against a
sky so wide it seemed to hold the whole world. A hawk circled lazily above,
riding a thermal as if even the air itself had nowhere better to be.
She passed a familiar white farmhouse on the right — the
Wilkins place — its wraparound porch now wrapped in bright red geraniums. She’d
spent countless summers there as a kid, catching fireflies with Emily Wilkins
until their mothers called them in.
Her chest tightened with a mix of nostalgia and nerves. Ten
years had done their work — she had crow’s-feet beginning to etch at the
corners of her eyes, a sharper confidence in her spine from years in corporate
boardrooms, and a career in Seattle that had been her dream once upon a time.
And yet here she was, driving back to Silver Ridge because her father’s voice
over the phone had cracked just enough to make her drop everything.
“You don’t need to rush,” he’d said. Which had, of course,
meant please hurry.
The scent of fresh-cut hay filtered in through the cracked
window, carried on the warm breeze. She slowed as she reached the bend where
the highway dipped toward the first real view of town.
And there it was — Silver Ridge, spread like a storybook
illustration in the shallow valley. Main Street cut through the center, a
ribbon of shopfronts painted in cheerful colors. Beyond the rooftops, the creek
glinted in the afternoon light, winding its lazy way past willow trees and
grazing cattle.
Claire’s throat tightened again. Some things, it seemed,
didn’t change.
Her phone buzzed in the cup holder, pulling her back into
the present. She glanced down — Paige Callahan, high school classmate
and, judging by the string of emojis that followed her name, still every bit as
excitable as Claire remembered.
“Paige?” she answered, keeping her eyes on the road.
“Claire Jennings, you’d better not be sneaking into town
without telling anyone,” Paige scolded, her voice bright and warm through the
speaker. “I saw your dad at the pharmacy yesterday, and he didn’t say a word.”
Claire smiled despite herself. “I’m just getting in. Wanted
to surprise him.”
“You’ll surprise half the town,” Paige said with a laugh.
“Word is Ethan’s still here, you know. Haven’t seen him with anyone in ages…”
Claire’s pulse jumped, though she forced her tone to stay
casual. “Haven’t thought about him in a long time.”
“Sure you haven’t,” Paige teased. “Anyway, stop by the
bakery tomorrow. First cup of coffee’s on me. Oh, and Claire?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s good to have you home.”
The call ended, leaving the cab of the SUV quiet again, save
for the hum of the tires.
Ethan’s still here.
The thought lodged in her chest like a pebble in a boot.
They hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade, not since that last awkward summer after
graduation when friendship had been teetering toward something more and she’d
left without giving it a chance.
She shook the thought away as the road carried her down into
town.
The “Welcome to Silver Ridge” sign came into view —
weathered wood, painted lettering slightly faded but still proud. Someone had
tied a cluster of sunflowers to the post, their yellow heads nodding in the
breeze.
Claire slowed as she hit Main Street. The changes were
subtle but there — the hardware store had a fresh coat of paint in deep hunter
green, and where Mrs. Larson’s antique shop used to be, a boutique selling
artisan candles and handmade quilts now stood. The old movie theater still
boasted its retro marquee, though the film showing was something she’d never
heard of.
People were out despite the late afternoon heat — a pair of
teenagers leaning against the soda fountain’s brick wall, a man in a cowboy hat
loading feed bags into the back of a pickup, two women chatting outside the
post office with to-go coffee cups in hand. And as she drove past, she caught
it — the double take, the subtle elbow to a companion, the not-so-subtle
pointing.
Paige had been right. Word traveled fast in Silver Ridge.
She found herself smiling as she turned off Main Street
toward the road that would lead her to Willow Creek Ranch. The pavement gave
way to gravel, the crunch under her tires a sound she’d known since childhood.
The land opened wide again, the creek glinting in the distance, and with each
mile she felt something loosening in her chest.
And then she saw the ranch gates.
They were just as she remembered — wide wooden posts with
“Willow Creek Ranch” carved deep into the beam that spanned between them, the
letters painted white and flanked by two old wagon wheels. The hinges squeaked
faintly as she eased the SUV through, the gravel drive lined with tall
cottonwoods whose leaves shimmered silver in the breeze.
Home.
Even if she didn’t know how to fit herself back into it yet.
The cottonwoods whispered overhead as Claire rolled to a
stop in front of the ranch house. The big, square-shouldered place wore its
years the way an old rancher wore a favorite denim jacket — scuffed in places,
sun-faded at the edges, but sound all the way through. Fresh white paint
brightened the porch railings, and someone — her father, surely — had hung a
horseshoe above the door with the ends pointing up to “catch the luck,” just
like always.
She killed the engine and sat for a heartbeat, palms flat on
the steering wheel. Coming home wasn’t supposed to feel like stepping into cold
water, but there it was, that shivery flood of memory — birthday banners strung
along this porch, the scrape of skates on the frozen creek, the slam of the
screen door when she and Ethan had raced out to chase fireflies, sixteen and
breathless and sure the future would be whatever they chose.
A bark broke the spell. A black-and-white border collie
barreled off the porch steps and skidded to a stop at her bumper, head cocked,
tail whirring.
“Well, hello, sir,” Claire said, climbing out. Gravel
crunched beneath her boots — Seattle leather, wrong for dust, wrong for
everything here — and the dog pressed a careful nose to her hand, then decided
she passed muster and danced in circles.
“Ranger, down,” a voice called from the porch, worn by
years, warm as July.
Her father came into view, using the porch post more than
she remembered. Hank Jennings had always looked carved out of the same redwood
as the barn doors — tall, broad, roped with muscle from decades of mending
fence and throwing hay. He was still that, but… leaner now. The lines around
his eyes were deeper. His hair, once iron-gray, had surrendered to silver. And
when he took the steps, he did it with the caution of a man who had learned the
cost of pretending he was twenty-five.
“Hi, Dad,” she said. The word was a whisper and a laugh and
a swallow all at once.
He grinned, wide and unguarded. “There’s my girl.”
They met halfway, his arms around her before she could
think, Ranger wiggling between them happily as if to referee. Hank smelled like
cedar and saddle soap, like the inside of the barn in summer. He squeezed too
hard and then checked himself; she felt that little hesitation in the tendons
of his back and didn’t pull away.
“You look like Seattle,” he said finally, holding her at
arm’s length. “All polished shoes and big-city air.”
She glanced down at the dust already freckling her ankle
boots. “Finally fixing that,” she said, and they both laughed.
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