Match Cut: A Standalone Small Town Romance (Foxe Hill Book 1)

by Julie Olivia

  What would have been different had I never left town? Would I be participating in these family morning coffee sessions? Would I know the unspoken Ellis way of holding coffee on a rickety front porch in the early morning? And would I have had the guts to make my move on Keaton during that time?

  “Camping this weekend,” Asher says, blurting out a thought. My mom nods like she instantly understands what he’s saying. I, on the other hand, am left with the cliffhanger. Maybe staying here would have also given me the power to interpret Asher’s unfinished statements.

  He turns to me, and I suppose my face must show confusion because he clears his throat with a smile and continues. “It will be nice to get out of town for a bit. You’re riding with me and Keaton, right?”

  “Nah,” I say. “Too much of a bully.”

  Asher laughs. “Right, I forgot. What a dick.”

  Mom sputters in her coffee. “Asher Steven Ellis—language. And Keaton?” My mom’s hand goes to her heart. “That man couldn’t be mean if he tried.”

  Mom always adored Keaton. He was the polite young man who changed Asher from outgoing wild child to moderately reeled-in extroverted gentleman. The entirety of the planet could catch on fire and trap us all in a fiery hellish reality before my mom could believe Keaton would be anything close to rude.

  I shake my head, reaching to pat her on the forearm. Bless her heart. “I’m kidding, Mom. He’s nice.”

  “Don’t startle me like that,” she says, hand still pressed to her chest. “He’s like a son to me. I swear I wanted to adopt that child, or maybe marry you off to him—”

  “What?!” My voice is high-pitched and trails off in a tight squeak.

  “So he could be part of the family!” she clarifies, waving her coffee mug in the air as if my reaction was completely unwarranted, and maybe it would seem that way to someone who hadn’t just fantasized about him for most of the week.

  “Oh, please, Keaton and Violet?” Asher says, blowing out a heavy breath of air.

  Well, now, hang on…

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

  “Nothing, really,” he says with an innocent shrug. “It’s just…well, do you want to date him?”

  The accusation makes my face flush and my stomach flip.

  No. Say no. Look disgusted. Appear like the thought of Keaton makes me want to vomit like a bad hot dog on the Fourth of July.

  “Oh, god no,” I say, scoffing and bringing my coffee to my lips with the most exaggerated eye roll I can manage. “No, no, no.”

  “I don’t see why not…” my mom mumbles before discreetly sipping on her own cup.

  Asher brings his coffee to his lips, narrowing his eyes at me.

  All at once, we’re all mid-sip in some kind of silent standoff, my mother with her matchmaking ambitions, my brother with his objections, and me trying my best to appear like the thought of Keaton’s hands on me doesn’t make me want to fall to pieces.

  “Do you?” he teases.

  “What is this, a stickup?” I say, throwing my hands in the air. “Of course I don’t want to date Keaton. I don’t even know the guy that well. Honestly. So, camping…”

  Asher laughs and accepts the new subject proposal, going into the details of tomorrow.

  It’s all just typical older brother teasing, nothing more than that and not something I haven’t handled before, but there’s something odd underneath the whole thing. Why was Asher so quick to dismiss a potential relationship between me and Keaton? Does he think Keaton is out of my league? Or am I still just the hopeless dorky younger sister?

  I thought I grew out of this insecurity. I figured once I left the small town of Foxe Hill, some things would change, but here I am: living with my parents, plagued by writer’s block, and harboring a silly crush on my brother’s out-of-reach best friend. I’m practically a supporting character in my own movie.

  Nine

  Violet

  I wake up Friday morning in Asher’s guest room, and I make us coffee as he packs our bags into the back of Keaton’s Jeep. I haven’t seen him since our trip into the city. It’s odd how something as simple as a black t-shirt and a red flannel can make a bearded man go from Wow, he’s cute to Holy shit, take me up against a tree, you lumberjack.

  I sit in the back seat on the ride up while Asher and Keaton talk about this and that. I’m barely paying attention as I watch the border of Foxe Hill fall behind us and rows of trees start to line each side of the empty interstate.

  Two hours later, we pull into a dirt parking lot. On one side is the gravel road we came in on, and on the other is a wall of pine trees. How deep the trees go is uncertain, but it officially feels like we’re more in the middle of nowhere than we were in Foxe Hill. I see no buildings, no other cars, no signs, just our lone Jeep and a couple wooden stakes in the ground.

  “Is this it?” I ask, hopping down from the back seat and walking to the trunk, where Keaton is already unloading his backpack. I gather my pack over my shoulder, hoping I don’t look like an idiot with all the excess items hooked on. Asher loaded my bag down with all the collapsible cookware while his holds the heavier canned food. I’m accustomed to carrying heavy camera equipment, so it wouldn’t have been a struggle, but instead I was stuck with the bag that looks like it’s made of rubber condom keychains.

  Keaton’s hair is tousled from two hours of driving with the doors off the car, and my hair would be messier were it not pulled into the tightest bun I could manage upon seeing the nude Jeep. Keaton’s brown locks look as if they were meant to be tossed around in the wind for a bit. It gives him a more rugged look, and by the way he picks up his larger pack with one hand, swinging it over his back and looping in the other impressively muscled arm, I can tell he is in his element.

  I’m sure Keaton is an excellent business owner, but the man should have been a park ranger. A sexy park ranger…in uniform…

  God, am I drooling?

  “Need help?” he asks, scanning me up and down. I know he’s just checking out how badly I’m juggling the rubbery camping goods, but I wonder if maybe my carefully planned outfit of a crop top and tight-fitting cargo pants gives me the sexy Kim Possible vibes I was going for.

  So what if he’s basically off limits? I like the way he looks at me.

  “You think little ol’ me can’t carry all this heavy stuff?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow as I pull out the tent bag and swing it over my other shoulder.

  “Impressive.” He chuckles.

  “Come on!” Asher calls from the trailhead, pulling his backpack higher and tugging the strings tighter on a sack of more canned goods.

  “When did you pack that?” I shove my open hand toward the lumpy bag with cans sticking out every which way. “Seriously, we will not need that much food.”

  “You, dear sister, haven’t seen Joey eat.”

  “If he eats that many beans, I’ll be concerned.”

  The three of us walk down the dirt path. I expect a quick hike, but what started as a five-minute conversation discussing Joey’s potential bowel movements turned into a thirty-minute steep trek amidst bushes, thorns, and what I’m guessing is poison ivy.

  Occasionally Asher and Keaton look back at me with wide grins on their faces, shaking their heads.

  I would kill the both of them for their judging looks were I not too busy breathing like an asthmatic bear.

  We finally crest over a rock and there, as if waiting just for us, is a large dirt clearing. The sun beams down between the trees like it’s some cozy abode that’s two sets of string lights away from being a romantic getaway. It’s big enough to hold all six of our tents and a campfire, if not more.

  By the time we finish setting up, Kayla, Joey, and Lily arrive, and the process starts over once again. Asher helps them unpack their tents while Joey lines up his two coolers stacked full of beers, spritzers, and other, more expensive spirits.

  “Are we trying to sedate a dinosaur?” Keaton asks with a laugh, bending over a cooler
.

  “Six dinosaurs, actually,” Joey says after taking a quick whispered headcount. “Go ahead—take one.”

  “I can’t get started in good conscience until I’ve done something of value,” Keaton says, patting his knees and looking around. “How can I help?”

  “Firewood!” Asher yells, grunting as he pushes a rod down into the ground for Lily’s tent. “And take Violet with you.” My heart sinks. “She’s being useless.”

  I want to say anything that would suggest otherwise, but when I see everyone’s eyes looking down at the stack of canned foods I was rearranging to make a food pyramid, my face grows hot.

  “Yeah, okay, sure,” I say, getting up from my knees and dusting off.

  Keaton is at the edge of the woods, his expression hinting at a suppressed laugh. He has one hand against a tree as he climbs up a nearby rock and the other held out to me to hoist me up. I’ve only taken his hand a few times now, but whenever my fingers slide into his palm, it’s a new sensation every time. They’re rough and so unlike mine. When I grasp it, I notice a small burn above his thumb and a cut or two near his elbow, but mostly it’s his statue-like gaze I’m transfixed by as he looks down to me until I’ll pulled up to the rock as well.

  The leaves and sparse grass crunch under our feet as we trek through the woods. I have no clue what I’m looking for. I’m waiting on his cue and I’ll carry back whatever is needed, but I keep forgetting what we’re even here for whenever I notice just how well his jeans fit him.

  “Are you seeing anything?” he asks, stopping and turning.

  I quickly look to my left, attempting to look interested in the giant span of forest beside me.

  “Keaton, I’ll be honest: I can’t tell a piece of potential firewood from one that’s no good. Don’t we just need wood?”

  He lifts an eyebrow and shakes his head with a smile. “Ain’t that easy.”

  “Teach me then,” I say, taking large steps toward him as he turns around to continue walking. Damn, that ass again.

  “Teach you about wood?” he says. My stomach does one of those fantastic flips it’s getting really good at performing. I’m likely to be an Olympic-level gymnast when this trip is all said and done.

  “Firewood,” I correct, giving him a light shove with my elbow. The feeling of our touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t help but cross my arms to get warm again. It’s still cool outside, though getting warmer. It’s not surprising such a simple interaction is enough to turn this April morning into a January snowstorm.

  He glances down to my crossed arms then looks back up at my eyes and nods curiously.

  I tilt my head to the side. “What?”

  He shrugs. “You seem stressed.”

  “Do I?” I ask, crossing my arms tighter without even thinking about it. I knew I should have packed a thicker cardigan. As of right now, I probably look like some soccer mom disappointed in her kid for being late to practice. I hope he can’t sense my unease with being around him, though it’s less about being nervous and more about the fact that, once again, we’re alone. This time, it’s absolute. No teenage employee, no camping store customers—just us and the quiet of the forest.

  “You seem a little…on edge,” he says. I think he’s maybe about to mention that my nipples are showing through my layers due to the cold or perhaps even call me out on the fact that I can’t stop looking at his butt. “Is it your movie?”

  I didn’t know it was possible for my stomach to drop lower and yet here I am with an upset tummy, a fuzzy brain, and a sense of becoming overwhelmed by both my attraction to Keaton and the unsettling weight of the entire reason I’m back in town—the missing narrative that’s looming over me like the Grim Reaper.

  “Well now I’m stressed,” I say through a choked laugh.

  He returns the good-natured gesture. “Hey, I’m not here to judge, Vi. Just checking in.”

  Just checking in.

  It’s odd how Keaton can go from sexy to adorable at the drop of a hat. There’s never a precedence for it or a buildup to the impact. It’s like it comes naturally to him, as if being concerned for another human being is always in the back of his mind.

  All I’ve gotten since I arrived in town is ‘How’s the movie? How’s the writing?’ But not Keaton. He’s just checking in.

  “I’m here to clear my head,” I say after a moment. “Or at least that’s what everyone else thinks this trip will be like for me.”

  He nods, taking a step forward. “And what is the trip like for you? Really?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, throwing my hands in the air and letting out another strained laugh. Is it laughter stemming from my growing anxiety and loss of mental stability? Who’s to say? “I think my presence here is honestly just the result of my inability to say no to peer pressure.”

  Keaton takes me in for a second. He doesn’t say a word, just looks at me with a calming gaze. For anyone else, it might ease their anxiety…something about his eyes, the deep brown of them or the way the edges crinkle like he’s smiling with them alone. Instead, I feel like I’m standing in the nude, completely exposed and the exact opposite of calm.

  He opens his mouth to speak then closes it before finally taking a deep breath and starting once more. “You asked me earlier why I said I thought you’ve changed. The truth is, you’re more outspoken now. It’s easy to get back here and feel like you’re just Asher’s little sister tagging along, but I know you. You’re not just Asher’s sister.” I involuntarily take in a sharp breath of air, and I see the hint of a smile on his lips. “You don’t want to just tag along anymore. And, just between you and me”—he leans forward to whisper—“you don’t have to. I like this confident Violet. She’s the person I knew, not just the shy woman everyone thought you were.”

  My heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my body, racing so fast I swear I can almost see my heart pumping out from my chest with each beat like in a cartoon.

  “Woman?” I question.

  He smiles this time, and it’s a genuine expression, dimples and all. “What’s wrong with the word ‘woman’?” he asks.

  “It’s just…” I try to choose my next words carefully because I’m not sure what will come out. I feel I need to tread lightly, and I’m not even sure why. “It’s just weird coming from you, like you must think of me as a woman or something.”

  Cringe. Wrong words, wrong words! Kill me now.

  Without skipping a beat, he takes another step toward me. I instinctually step back, and my back hits the tree trunk behind me. “You are a woman, Violet.” His voice is lower, gruff, heavy, sexy. “I do think of you like that.”

  I’m flush with the tree and it’s the only thing supporting me as my knees slowly weaken.

  I choke out a laugh. “When did this happen?”

  His shoulders rise in a small shrug. “When we stopped talking about firewood.”

  “Which we should probably get,” I say.

  “Probably.”

  I tilt my head to the side. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been before. His nose is inches from mine, not yet near enough to kiss but close enough for his scent to wash over me. His subtle cinnamon cologne has notes of sandalwood, just like the candles they sell for ladies who need the scent of pure man in their life. I own about three of those candles, but right now, I wish I could bottle him up for later. The candles are nothing compared to the real thing.

  “So…are you?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. I’m nervous and I know I shouldn’t be flirting. He’s my brother’s best friend. He should feel like a brother to me, or heck, even a distant relative. Someone off limits. Someone who watched me grow up and saw me in my awkward stages. But…he’s also so, so hot.

  “Am I what?” he asks.

  “Getting wood,” I respond. I can’t help the smile that twitches at the corners of my mouth.

  He looks away, laughing. Embarrassed, maybe?

  There’s an entire miles-wide forest and yet we’ve
managed to create our own little corner with heavy breaths and so much eye fucking I could die a happy woman right here.

  Woman.

  “Firewood, I mean,” I say. “We should get firewood.”

  “Of course,” he says. His head tilts to the side to match mine. So close.

  “So, where do we start?” I ask, biting my bottom lip in an effort to stop myself from doing anything stupid.

  He places a hand on the trunk behind me, right beside my head. I attempt to back into the tree more, but there’s nowhere else to go. I’m only flattened further, straightening my posture and accidentally pushing my breasts outward and into his hard, muscular chest. I tighten my thighs, feeling the pressure of sensitivity in my jeans.

  And then there’s a rustle of leaves behind us. Keaton moves away faster than I could have stopped him, and we both glance around only to see a squirrel staring at us dead in the eye, judging us, as if to say What the hell are you doing? A mother disappointed in her child.

  Keaton doesn’t seem to be nearly as bothered as I am when he turns back to me, running his hand through his hair and grinning.

  “Scared?” he jests.

  I shake my head, letting out a quivering laugh. “Asher used to tell me there were bears in the woods, and I think I’ve been cautious ever since.”

  It’s a lie in this exact moment, as the only thing I fear right now is what will happen next between me and Keaton. I instantly know it was the wrong thing to say—Asher is not the person to bring up right now.

  Keaton’s face falls and his hands drop to his sides.

  “Asher…” He breathes out with a laugh nervous enough to mirror my own. “Right. We should get some of that…the, uh, stuff.”

  “Sure,” I agree.

  Before I know it, he’s walking away and crunching through the leaves once more, picking up some nearby wood off the ground.

  I randomly gather some sticks, not knowing if it’s what I should be doing or not.