The next morning, Kindall was taking the morning slow. Wearing a thin wrap dress tied loosely at the waist, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she watered her front garden with a relaxed rhythm, moving from left to right. The spray caught the morning light, forming a delicate rainbow over the pink and lime blooms.
She was so laser-focused on getting her landscaping in tip-top shape, she neither heard the distant hum of Rick’s pressure washer nor the soft static of Mr. Romano’s antique radio.
She didn't even realize someone was walking towards her driveway... until she heard footsteps just a few feet away.
She turned, and there he was, coming down the sidewalk. Someone she hadn't seen before. A tall, broad-shouldered, 50-something man with chestnut-colored hair.
“Morning,” the man said, his voice far deeper than Kindall expected.
As she studied him, she took in the way his posture radiated confidence and quiet authority. A twinge of unease stirred in her chest. What was he doing here? He had clearly arrived on foot, though he hardly looked like someone out for a casual stroll in his dark suit and neatly knotted tie.
“Hello,” Kindall replied softly. As she twisted the nozzle shut, she continued looking up, suddenly feeling diminished beneath his towering presence. His body was solid, immovable, as though it had been shaped from the same stone of Mount Rushmore—broad, imposing, and undeniably masculine. His expression, just as stern, seemed carved to endure, daring her to look away.
He pointed to her flowerbeds. “Are these snowballs?"
“Hydrangeas, actually. But you must know a thing or two about plants?” Kindall inquired.
He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “A little. My mom used to drag me to garden centers on weekends.”
Oh, no, Kindall thought, I must be breaking the HOA rules by not getting their permission to plant flowers. She took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on his. "Sir, please tell me the HOA isn't upset about these Tilt-A-Swirl hydrangeas? I pre-ordered them last year, and I'd be heartbroken if I had to dig them up."
"Yeah, the HOA can be a pain in the ass,” his gaze still lingered on her. "But I don’t think you’ve broken any rules… yet,” he added playfully, his lips curving into a half smile now.
“I just came to tell you, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask. I’m Steven. I live on the hilltop.”
"Well, thank you, Steven. You had me worried for a minute," Kindall said, using her garden glove to wipe a few beads of sweat from her brow.
His features, she noticed, were sculpted with classical perfection. His jawline and nose precisely chiseled, every lock of hair seemed fixed in place despite the breezy north wind, and his Cupid's Bow curved ever so slightly like two golden arches.
“I just wanted to introduce myself. I've seen you out and about in the neighborhood."
The realization that he'd come all the way over from the hilltop to introduce himself, the realization he'd seen her - maybe even watched her - and the fact his eyes were still locked on hers, made her cheeks feel ten degrees warmer.
"I actually developed this neighborhood, and I was one of the first people to move in.”
“Oh, you’re a real estate developer?”
“Sure am,” his lips curled again into another half smile.
Kindall continued to observe him. He apparently didn't come over here to flirt—not that she could tell. There was no awkward glance at her legs, no personal questions about kids or a husband. He was just present. Steady. Watching her not like an object—but like someone he was trying to study.
“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Steven,” she said, her cheeks still warm as their eyes lingered on one another. It was only in that moment that she realized how striking his eyes truly were. Hazel at first glance, yet circled at the pupil by a fiery orange that almost seemed to glow. Looking into them felt like standing too close to fire—thrilling, a little dangerous, and impossible to look away from.
“Nice to meet you. Well, I have to be at a meeting soon, so I’ll let you get back to your flowers. See you around, Kindall,” he said, offering a polite nod before turning and heading up the street.
Kindall’s gaze followed him until he disappeared around the corner, the last trace of him swallowed by the curve of the block. Still, her thoughts clung to those eyes. How they reminded her of something: torch flames burning outside a castle gate at twilight. They carried the same fiery glow, steady and watchful. A little mysterious. The kind of eyes that seemed to know more than they revealed. The kind that held stories. Secrets.
Meanwhile, behind the partially cracked blinds of his living room, Joe stood watching- jaw tight, breath shallow.
Something inside him shifted.
Because Steven wasn’t just watching anymore. He was moving in.