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Cover Design: Christine Coffey
One woman’s hiding place is another woman’s home.
After becoming an inadvertent viral sensation—and losing her job and her girlfriend as a result— Phoebe Shaw retreats to Vermont. Renovating her late grandmother’s cabin into a vacation rental seems like the perfect way to lie low for a while. But the last person she expects to encounter on the property is the woman whose kiss was her teenage sexual awakening . . . and whom she’s never quite forgotten.
Taylor Donovan has been hiking on the trails behind the Shaw family’s cabin her whole life. As children, Taylor and Phoebe were best friends before sharing a secret summer romance when they were sixteen, which left Taylor brokenhearted when Phoebe fled at the end of the summer. Now the property has become Taylor’s home away from home, and she wants nothing more than to convince the Shaws to sell it to her. But Phoebe’s return puts a crimp in those plans--and brings back old feelings she thought she’d overcome.
Of all the things Phoebe regrets, leaving Taylor is at the top of the list, but Taylor is determined to protect her heart. Yet the pull between them is stronger than ever. This time around, will love stay hidden . . . or finally see the light of day?
I sipped my cider, savoring its tangy, refreshing flavor. Over the hum of conversation, I could hear a woman singing, accompanied by the tinkling notes of the piano. I stared into the amber depths of my cider while I enjoyed the soulful quality of the singer’s voice. Whoever this was must be new, because I didn’t recognize her voice or her style.
I picked up my glass and spun my stool toward the stage, only to find myself facing Phoebe. I inhaled, and my glass tipped dangerously in my hand. Of all the people I’d expected to see on that stage…
Phoebe’s hair was pulled back in a loose bun , but a few dark curls had escaped, spilling down her back. She wore a slinky black dress that highlighted her curves and stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin. Her voice was low and smoky, hitting me somewhere in the vicinity of my solar plexus, a jolt that warmed my stomach and radiated outward, flushing my skin.
As I watched, Phoebe looked up, and our eyes met. I lifted my glass and took another sip of my cider, feigning indifference, because it was just unfair that she could still affect me like this after so many years. Phoebe dropped her gaze to the piano in front of her as her fingers danced across the keys.
I remembered sitting beside her on the bench at Margery’s piano, my arm wrapped around her as Phoebe sang. Her voice had been different then, lighter and sweeter, or maybe it just seemed that way, filtered through the blinds of my memory. Margery told me Phoebe had given up the piano—and singing—after she graduated from high school.
Maybe she was feeling nostalgic now that she was back in Vermont. Or maybe she was just trying to torture me with the allure of her voice. I gulped from my cider.
“Hi,” a female voice said.
I spun to find myself facing an unfamiliar blonde. “Hi.”
“I’m Rebecca,” she said. “Are you from around here?”
“Taylor, and yes. You?”
“Just in town for the weekend,” Rebecca told me.
“Ah.” I sipped my cider. Rebecca was pretty, although not exactly my type with her trendy dress and long, red-painted nails. She looked like she’d never hiked a day in her life. But when I glanced to the left, I saw Phoebe watching me from the stage, and it gave me an absurd thrill to let her watch me flirt with someone else. “Where are you from, Rebecca?”
