Chapter 39
HART
THE SECOND THE spray hits me, I know two things:
One: She didn’t mean to.
Two: I am one hundred percent not letting her get away with it.
She moves at the same time, straight for the nozzle.
Our hands collide on the grip.
“Let go.” I tighten my fingers.
“You let go.” Quick. Clipped. Amused.
Her tone sends a ripple of heat through me.
“Not a chance.”
I tug.
She pulls back. “Don’t you even think about it.”
The hose twists in our grip, spraying over our arms, down my chest, soaking the front of her shirt.
She shrieks.
“You’re getting everything wet!” She wrestles for the upper hand.
“Oh, now you care?”
Her hands are on mine, both of us fighting for control, slipping, laughing, half-falling into each other. The sprayer jerks sideways and mists her face.
She gasps and yelps simultaneously, then lunges. We dodge and weave, spraying each other with bursts.
Our clothes drip, drenched.
Our laughter echoes off the walls.
It’s reckless and carefree, like we’re young again, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of us.
“You jerk! That’s cold!” She grabs the end of the hose with both hands, trying to wrench it free.
Water sprays sideways, soaking both our legs.
“Let go and I’ll be gentle,” I promise.
She yanks the hose down, dousing us both from the waist up.
“Gentle my ass.” She pushes forward, and her shoulder knocks me off balance.
My back hits the sink. “Careful, now. You’re gonna flood the whole damn building.”
I half-spin, trying to pin the hose between us. Water sprays in a wild arc over our heads. We’re gonna be in so much trouble, but it’ll be worth it.
I’ll pay whatever the costs are for the unguarded moment between us. Her feet slip on the wet floor, and I grab her waist to steady her.
“You wanna play dirty?” Her accusation is so sharp my insides clench with a hunger I haven’t felt in a long time.
“I was helpin’.”
She elbows me.
I groan.
She takes the chance to try to twist the nozzle out of my grip. It only brings us closer together. Our faces are inches apart now. The hose is pinned between us. Her chest against mine. Her fingers slip over the trigger. My hands cover hers.
Breathless.
Wet.
Every part of me is aware of her. The heat of her under the water. The curve of her hip brushing me.
Her mouth parts like she’s about to say something.
Her grip loosens a little. So does mine.
But neither of us moves away.
The water slows to a drip between us, trailing down the hose. And we stand here, eyes locked, noses almost brushing.
“You gonna surrender?” I ask quietly, voice rougher than it has any right to be.
“Never.” Her word drips with a slow, sultry heat that pulls me closer.
My eyes drift. Her shirt clings to her skin, highlighting the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts. I feel a heat rise in my chest, but it’s not just lust. It’s something warmer, softer. A connection that feels electric.
She catches me looking and smirks, giving me another squirt. “Eyes up here, Hart.”
I catch her beautiful hazel eyes with flecks of green in them. The air thickens with unspoken words and acknowledged desires.
We’re inches apart now, breath mingling, the laughter fading into something intense.
“Are you plannin’ on kissing me?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but there’s a vulnerability there I can’t ignore.
I swallow, my heart pounding against her ribs.
“I want to.”
Her eyes search mine, and I see the same longing, the same hesitation.
Then, slowly, she tilts her head. “Well, don’t just stand there, cowboy.”
I don’t overthink it. Hell, I’ve been thinking about it all damn day.
I lean in, and her breath hitches before our lips meet.
It’s tentative at first.
A brush of lips.
A shared breath.
But then it deepens, an inner yearning taking over.
Her hands find my neck and her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer. My arms slide around her waist, pulling her against me. The dampness of our bodies is forgotten in the heat of the moment.
The shelter fades away—the barking and the meowing. There’s only her, only us—only this.
Her lips are soft. Her kiss is urgent. And I lose myself in the taste of her, the feel of her body against mine. It’s like coming home and finding something I didn’t know I’d been searching for.
Her hands slide down my back, pulling me tighter. The water fight has left us both breathless, but this is a different kind of breathlessness. It’s the kind that comes from wanting—from needing—and finally allowing yourself to feel.
I tilt up her chin with my thumb, deepening the kiss. My tongue traces the seam of her lips. She opens to me, a soft moan escaping her throat. I taste the sweetness of her. Lord knows, I’ve longed to taste her again.
But just as the kiss intensifies, the door creaks open, and the volunteer walks in, freezing mid-step.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Jade and I pull apart, fast and flushed.
I clear my throat, stepping forward to take the T-shirts. “Sorry about that. We got a little carried away.”
The volunteer smiles, but there’s a knowing glint in her eyes. “No worries. You can pay for those on your way out.”
“Thanks.”
When she leaves, Jade glares at me. “That was mortifying.”
“Not a turn on? Maybe a kink you like?”
She snatches a T-shirt from me. “Turn around.”
“Turn around?”
“Yes.” Her hands shove me away from her. “I can’t trust you to see my breasts. You’ll be liable to take me on this soaking wet floor.”
Fuck yes. Lying her in the water and—
“I’m not opposed to that.”
“Exactly.” She makes a shooing motion with her hands. “Turn around.”
I turn and stare at a wall as I pull the shirt over my head. “I’ll bet there’s a lock on the door.”
“No.” But she laughs. “You can turn back around.”
I turn around, and she looks adorable with the little paw prints around her breasts. I can still feel them against me.
“Here. We made a mess.” She hands me one of the two mops and cock blocks us both.
It doesn’t take us long to clean, pay, and say goodbye to Hershey and Godiva before heading outside with our matching new T-shirts.
“Didn’t expect to bond with them like that,” I admit, as I hold open the door for her.
“Same. I wasn’t ready for that level of puppy love.” She opens an adoption flyer she’d grabbed on the way out. “They’ve left a paw size hole in my heart.”
We don’t make it half a dozen steps out the door, and we run straight into the Quylt sisters.
“Fancy runnin’ into you two here.” Wilma shuffles back a step, trying to tuck something into her leather saddle bag in a not-so-smooth manner.
I catch a flash of metal—binoculars maybe?
“Weren’t you two headed to the rodeo today?” Jade folds her arms over her front.
Her damp bra soaks through the material, outlining everything. Yeah, I look. I’m only human, and it does all kinds of things to me.
“We were.” Faye’s outfit is practically humming today
Quite literally.
Her pale yellow tea dress swarms with embroidered bees. And the flurry of wire bobbing bees on her Kentucky Derby hat dances with her every motion. “We also wanted to check out the city.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And you both just happened to be strolling behind the feed store? In the middle of the industrial zone? And ended up at the same animal shelter as us?”
Wilma smiles too fast—if you can call whatever her mouth is doing a smile. “Such good air back here. Very rustic.”
She glances at Faye, who’s suddenly very interested in adjusting the strap of her big bag, which looks unusually stuffed.
“Were you two spying on us?” Jade steps closer like she’s about to make a citizen’s arrest.
“Spying?” Something clicks in Wilma’s bag. “We wouldn’t dream of it.”
I gesture toward the bulging tote. “You got binoculars in there?”
“No,” she huffs.
“A set of walkie-talkies?”
“Absolutely not.”
“A hidden microphone in that big brooch of yours?”
Faye gasps, all guilty.
I cross my arms. “I’m one thought away from thinking they’ve attached air tags to us.”
“I agree.”
Wilma clears her throat loudly. “We’re just out stretching our legs. Doc says it’s good for the joints. Decided antique hunting was a fun way to spend our morning.”
I’m pretty sure their idea of fun is driving everyone else bonkers.
“Wow.” Jade shakes her head. “Y’all don’t have anything better to do than follow us around?”
“Those are cute shirts.” Wilma is a master of changing topics. “How did you end up in them?”
Jade and I share a look.
“You watched the entire play yard date, didn’t you?” Jade’s accusation is well warranted.
“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wilma looks away, like the guilty bird she is.
“But, are those the shirts that were tinkled on?” Faye reaches for the bag in Jade’s hand, not caring that she’s just blown their cover.
Sneaky lil’ old spinsters.
Jade shifts the bag behind her back. “This is not for you.”
Faye slaps her arms against her sides, and two panels unfurl like wings. “You might as well let us wash them.”
“You mean cut them?” I rock back on the heels of my boots.
“What does it matter now? Y’all are together, just as we predicted.”
“Together?” Jade grunts, and I narrow a look at her.
She looks up at me, surprise in her eyes. “Sorry, it’s just a habit.”
I inwardly chuckle, understanding it. It’s been a back-and-forth fight for so many years, but I’m surprised how much I love her snappy remarks.
“So....about those shirts.” Faye reaches for the bag again.
“No.” Jade points down the industrial road. “Go.”
Faye makes a harrumph sound and folds her arms. “How are we supposed to have the Love Quilt ready for the shotgun wedding that will undoubtedly happen?”
Wilma shakes her head. “What is it with the Wilde boys and their shotgun weddings? Nothing like giving us time to prepare.”
“It was expected with Levi and Hope.” Faye adjusts her elbow-length golden gloves that look like they have been dipped in a honey pot. “Their quilt was also halfway completed by the time they realized they were destined to be together.”
“Wheeler and Lena’s quilt was trickier.” Wilma purses her thin, tight lips. “Him having a daughter and her being more traditional, I thought we’d have a year to prepare.”
“But nope.” Faye slyly tries to get the bag again.
Jade sends her a warning look she’ll ignore.
“At least Dean and Harper gave us a break.” Wilma sighs loudly.
“We should really push that.” Faye turns to her sister. “It’s well past time getting her a ring and setting a date.”
“I reckon they’re happy just the way things are,” I say, knowing both have made it clear they’re not interested in a wedding.
“The twins’ double wedding.” Faye snaps open a fan with a bumblebee perched on the base and flutters it before her face. “That was somethin’ plopped together with no warnin’.”
“Can’t those two boys do anything alone?” Wilma makes a disapproving sound.
“We could sneak away,” I whisper to Jade.
“Not before doing us a teensy little favor.” Faye fishes something out of her bag.
“Y’all have out-used your favors,” I tell them.
She hands me a key. “We’re absolutely exhausted from all our travels, and luggin’ all these purchases is hurting my hip.”
Wilma and Faye part, and a pile of bags sits on the ground behind them.
“What’s all this?” Jade asks.
“Our finds. I told you, we’ve been antique shopping. Isn’t this a gem?” Wilma takes out an old leather-bound journal with yellowed and worn pages, mostly blank except for a few delicate sketches tucked between the faded lines.
“You’re both young with strong legs.” Faye hands me a bag, then another.
“Teamwork never hurt anyone.” Wilma tucks the book into a bag and gives it to Jade, followed by another and another.
Faye slips something into my palm. “Address and key.” She closes my fist and pats the top of my hand.
“Oh, look. There’s that antique shop.” Wilma points to a building with plywood covering its windows.
They rush away.
“Well executed, ladies,” I call after them, rushing off, smug as foxes leaving a henhouse.
I like to leave those comparisons to the Fox family, but when the shoe fits.
“You know they’re tracking us, right?” I scoop a handful of bags.
“Oh, definitely.”
We load the truck and drive to the Airbnb tucked away on a quiet tree-lined street. The house has a storybook charm with a cottage-style exterior painted a soft pastel hue, complemented by white trim and a cheerful mint-green front door that pops with color.
“They went all out, didn’t they?” I cut the engine.
“Doesn’t surprise me. Mayor Thomas would’ve had this booked last year.”
I chuckle. “He has no faith in us.”
Not that I can blame him. We did start our booth on fire a few days ago.
We unpack the parcels and carry them up the stone path lined with bursting flower beds. Potted plants crowd every inch of the porch, and the wooden planks creak with age beneath us.
I open the door, and Jade slips in front of me. A soft chime from a vintage bell greets us while the strong scent of eucalyptus reminds me of sick days at home with my ma rubbing the oil on my chest.
“Hello?” I call out, setting the bags beside an antique bookcase stacked with worn books. “Anyone home?”
“They’re likely all at the rodeo.” Jade walks into the cozy living room.
It features warm colors, such as the buttery sofa and botanical prints framed on the wall.
“Do you smell that?” she asks.
I sniff the air. “No. Should I?”
She doesn’t answer, just spins on her heel and bolts toward the back of the house.