Passion Under the Pines

Chapter 1

I’ve always been the type to thrive on control. Precision, organisation, routine—it’s how I kept my life from spiralling, how I kept myself from falling apart when things got tough. That’s what I told myself, at least. In New York, it made sense. In a city that never stops moving, control was the only way to survive. But now, standing here in the quiet of Rosewood, surrounded by towering pines and the gentle hum of nature, that control feels suffocating.

I glance out the window of the inn, the early morning light casting a golden glow over the mountains in the distance. Rosewood Inn, my grandmother Estelle’s pride and joy, has been my responsibility for longer than I ever anticipated. When I first moved here, it was out of obligation, a temporary escape after I left New York. I told myself it was just to help Estelle get the inn back on its feet. But now, after all this time, I’ve come to realise that maybe I was the one who needed saving.

Vivian joined me here not too long ago. My older sister—carefree, wild, and once so similar to me—found herself tangled in her own scandal and came running to Rosewood like I had. But while I struggled to keep everything under control, she bloomed. She found love, a new sense of purpose, and somehow seemed to shed the weight of her past like a second skin. Watching her fall for someone, seeing her let go, made me question myself.

Why couldn’t I do the same? Why was I still holding on so tightly?

I exhale, brushing a strand of dark hair behind my ear as I survey the inn’s common area. Everything is in its place, neat and orderly. The antique furniture polished, the floors swept, and the breakfast table set for the few guests staying this week. On the surface, everything looks perfect, just as I’ve always kept it. But beneath that surface, I can’t ignore the gnawing sensation that something vital is missing.

Passion. Desire. Indulgence.

My fingers trace the edge of the tablecloth, the linen smooth under my fingertips. I haven’t allowed myself to indulge in anything for so long. It’s not just food or the occasional glass of wine—it’s everything. I’ve been so focused on keeping things in order that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to truly let go. To give in.

I swallow, the thought of surrendering control making my heart race in both fear and anticipation.

Then there’s Hunter.

I met him not long ago, at the end of Vivian’s love story, of all things. He’s a forest ranger—rugged, strong, with this quiet confidence that both unsettles and intrigues me. His dark hair always looks windswept, his hands calloused from working outdoors, and the way he looks at me... it’s like he sees through all the layers I’ve wrapped around myself.

Whenever he’s around, I can feel my resolve slipping. There’s something primal about the way he watches me, as if he knows exactly what I’m hiding beneath my polished exterior. And maybe he does. Every time we’re in the same room, I’m hyper-aware of him—of the way my body responds to his presence, the way my breath catches in my throat when our eyes meet.

It’s been a long time since I’ve let anyone get close. Even longer since I’ve allowed myself to feel... anything. But when I think of Hunter, when I think of his rough hands and his piercing gaze, my mind wanders to places I haven’t allowed myself to go in years.

A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts, and I quickly compose myself. It’s probably Vivian, eager to start the day. But as I cross the room to open the door, a flicker of excitement stirs in my chest. Maybe it’s Hunter. Maybe today will be different.

I pull open the door, and there she is—Vivian, her auburn hair falling in loose waves, her cheeks flushed with the crisp morning air. She’s smiling, the kind of smile that comes from being in love, from feeling free.

"Good morning!" she chirps, stepping inside and kicking off her boots. "It’s a beautiful day out there. We should take a walk later."

I nod, forcing a smile. "Sure, that sounds nice."

"Everything looks great, as usual," Vivian says, glancing around the room. "You really know how to keep things in order."

"Someone has to," I reply with a soft laugh, but the words feel hollow. I know how to keep things in order—that’s never been the problem. It’s everything else that’s slipping through my fingers.

Vivian tilts her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me. "Are you okay?"

"Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?"

She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she gives me a knowing smile, the kind that says she understands more than she’s letting on. "Well, if you ever want to talk, I’m here."

I nod, grateful for her concern, but the truth is, I’m not ready to talk. I’m not ready to admit that I’ve been holding myself back, that I’m afraid of what might happen if I let go.

Vivian heads off to prepare breakfast, and I find myself standing by the window again, staring out at the mountains, my thoughts drifting back to Hunter. There’s something about him, something that makes me feel like I could lose myself if I’m not careful. And yet, there’s a part of me that’s starting to wonder if that’s exactly what I need—to lose myself in him, in the way he makes me feel, in the way my body aches for his touch.

I press my hand against the cool glass, watching as the sun climbs higher in the sky. The day stretches out before me, filled with possibilities I’m too scared to confront. But I can’t ignore the growing hunger inside me—one that has nothing to do with food and everything to do with desire.

Maybe it’s time to let go. Maybe it’s time to stop pretending I have everything under control and allow myself to feel. To indulge. To want.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a mix of excitement and fear coursing through me. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment as I let the possibilities wash over me.

I don’t know what the future holds, but for the first time in a long time, I feel a flicker of something I thought I’d lost: hope.