Chapter 8
JUNE
“Iwoke up to water all over my downstairs, and I have no idea where it’s coming from.”
Hazel sets down her latte, dark eyes widening. “Define ‘all over.’ ”
“Like a thin layer covering everything. The storage room, the bathroom, the garage.” I slump back in my chair. “I turned off the main water supply, but the damage is already done. And I can’t even find the source.”
She sighs. “Eek, that’s a nightmare.”
“It gets better.” I take a long drink of my coffee. “The plumber came within an hour, took one look, and told me to leave because he’s going to have to start punching holes in my walls to find the leak.”
“Shit. How many holes are we talking?”
“However many it takes, apparently.” I gesture vaguely. “My house is becoming Swiss cheese as we speak.” And I’m so stressed that I might have nowhere to live, and I know Hazel is a one room studio, super tiny, so I can’t impose on her.
Hazel winces sympathetically. “Insurance?”
“Called them. They’re ‘processing’ my claim.” I make air quotes. “Which means sitting around while my house slowly transforms into a disaster zone.”
“I’m so sorry, babe.” She reaches over the table to hold my hand.
“Nothing I can do until they fix it, I guess.” I glance around the Wildflower Bakehouse & Café, which is warm and bright around us, all honeyed wood and mismatched vintage furniture that somehow works together.
Mason jar lights hang from exposed beams overhead, casting everything in a golden glow.
A chalkboard menu stretches across one wall, the daily specials written in looping script that changes with the owner’s mood. This place always calms me.
Kitty emerges from the kitchen carrying a plate, coming our way. She’s twenty-four, with dark hair piled in a ponytail and an apron that’s a patchwork of cats, donuts, and what appears to be a bedazzled croissant. Her white blouse is buttoned all the way up.
“Chocolate croissants, warmed.” She sets the plate between us. “Rough morning?”
“The roughest.”
“That calls for extra chocolate, then.” She winks and heads back to the counter.
I tear into my croissant with more aggression than the pastry deserves. The chocolate is warm and melty, the layers shattering under my teeth. At least something in my life is going right.
My phone buzzes. Pete’s name flashes on the screen.
“Speaking of things I don’t want to deal with,” I mutter, then answer. “Pete. Hi.”
“June! Just checking in. Have you had a chance to think about what we discussed?”
“I’m still thinking.”
“It’s been almost twenty-four hours.”
“That’s… not that long, Pete.”
“The circuit leaves in less than two or three weeks. The sheriff is breathing down my neck. The rodeo coordinator keeps calling me and asking if we’ve ‘resolved the situation.’ ” He sighs heavily. “I need an answer.”
“I just need a bit more time to consider—”
Knock.
I glance at the window beside our table. Nothing there.
“—consider whether this is really the best use of my—”
Knock.
“June.”
The voice is muffled through the glass. I keep my eyes firmly on the table, saying, “Is it the best use of my skills, given that I have a real estate business to run and—”
Knock.
“June.”
Hazel is staring out the window, a grin spreading across her face. She presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh.
“—clients who need my attention, and frankly, Pete, I think there might be someone better suited to—”
Knock.
“June.”
Hazel snorts. Her shoulders are shaking.
Knock.
“June.”
I refuse to look. I am a professional. I am having an important phone conversation. I will not be distracted by—
Knock.
“June.”
Hazel has her hand clamped over her mouth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
“Pete, maybe there’s another committee member who could take this on.”
“Told you before, no one else is suited.”
Knock.
“June.”
“You’re the only option,” Pete continues, oblivious. “Word is the rodeo stars already like you.”
My face heats. “Where did you hear that?”
Knock.
“June.”
Knock.
“June.”
Hazel is wheezing now with giggles.
“The rodeo circuit coordinator mentioned it. Said his boys haven’t stopped talking about the local girl who helped at the photo booth.”
Knock.
“June.”
Knock.
“June.”
I finally glance up.
Kai is standing outside the window, face pressed against the glass like a kid at a pet store. When our eyes meet, he breaks into the most devastating smile I’ve ever seen and gives me a little wave. “Hey, June.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “Pete, I have to go.”
“But—”
“I’ll call you back. Soon.” I hang up before he can protest.
Kai then disappears from view.
“He’s insane,” I say.
“He’s completely obsessed with you,” Hazel corrects, wiping her eyes. “Did you see his face? He looked like he’d just found buried treasure.”
“He looked like a man who doesn’t understand personal boundaries.”
“Same thing.” She grins. “So. You going to tell me what happened after I left last night?”
I fill her in on the fun night of carnival games and the mountain of prizes, the way Kai and Carter competed to win me increasingly ridiculous stuffed animals. The way they looked at me when they said goodnight. The way I couldn’t stop thinking about them the entire drive home.
“And then,” I add, “I got home and felt like absolute garbage.”
Hazel frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Fever. Body aches. This weird… buzzing under my skin.” I shake my head. “It’s gone now, thankfully. Probably just a bug. Or exhaustion.”
“Or.” Hazel leans forward, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Your body is trying to tell you something.”
“Yeah, to get more sleep.”
“So are you going to see them again?”
“At this point, I think they’ve installed a tracking device on me.” I glance toward the window where Kai appeared. “I’m starting to wonder if I should be concerned or flattered.”
Hazel laughs. “Definitely flattered.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling. “Okay, your turn. How was the date?”
Hazel’s expression shifts into something wicked. “The date was… educational.”
“Okay, that’s unusual.”
“I learned several things about myself. And about him.” She takes a slow sip of her latte. “Turns out, I really enjoy being in charge.”
“Go on.”
“In charge of everything.” Her grin widens. “He was very… accommodating. Willing to follow instructions.”
“Hazel.”
“I may have left him tied to his bed this morning.”
I choke on my croissant. “What?”
“He asked for it! Literally begged me.” She drinks her coffee. “I used his own neckties. Very secure. He said I needed to come back later and ‘finish what I started.’ ”
“You tied a man to his bed and just… left him there?”
“I untied one hand so he could free himself eventually. I’m not a monster.” She grins. “But I might make him wait a few more hours.”
“You meet the strangest people.”
“I attract them. There’s a difference.”
My phone buzzes. A text from Pete: Don’t forget to call me back. This is urgent.
I sigh, setting it facedown on the table.
“The man is desperate. The whole town depends on that rodeo circuit.” She sets her phone aside too. “Speaking of things that won’t give up… you know what they say about plumbers.”
“What?”
“Big pipes.” She waggles her eyebrows. “And they’re not afraid to get dirty.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I’m hilarious.” She nods toward the window.
I turn to look, and my brain goes completely offline.
Seth is across the road outside, bent over near the bed of a pickup truck, loading something heavy. And bent over means… yeah. Low-slung jeans. A strip of tan skin where his shirt has ridden up. And an ass that belongs on a museum pedestal.
“Well,” Hazel says appreciatively. “That’s a view.”
I can’t actually form words. My mouth dries.
“That is a man who knows how to fill out denim.” She tilts her head, studying him like a work of art. “So firm.”
“I bet he squats,” I say. “You don’t get glutes like that without serious dedication.”
Seth straightens up, wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, and I watch the movement with embarrassing intensity. The sun is warm today, and he’s clearly been working hard enough to build up a sweat.
“He can bend over for me anytime,” Hazel murmurs.
“Naked would be preferable.”
“Or maybe you bend over for him.”
“I am not having this conversation.”
Seth bends over again, and we both lean even closer to the window like plants toward sunlight.
“Oh, look at me with all these muscles,” a male voice says from directly beside us. “Sometimes it’s so hard carrying all this raw, masculine energy around. But I wear my jeans tight on purpose so everyone can admire my—”
I turn around and shriek.
Hazel nearly knocks over her latte.
Kai is sitting at the end of our table, elbows propped up, chin resting on his hands, staring out the window at Seth with an exaggerated expression of longing.
“—admire my incredible work ethic,” he continues in a terrible imitation of Seth’s voice. “I’m Seth Benton. I brood professionally. My jawline could cut glass, and my ass was sculpted by angels.”
“How long have you been sitting there?” I demand, my heart hammering.
“Long enough to hear the ‘naked would be preferable’ part.” He grins, utterly unrepentant. “Which, for the record, I’ll be passing along to Seth later.”
“Don’t you dare,” I gasp.
“No promises.”
Hazel is doubled over, face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Outside, Seth straightens up and rolls his shoulders.
“Oh, no,” Kai says in that fake-Seth voice. “I seem to have pulled a muscle from being too handsome. Better flex dramatically for the ladies watching through café windows.”
“Stop,” I wheeze. “That’s mean.”
“It’s accurate.” He switches to his normal voice. “The man poses in his sleep. I’ve seen it.”
Hazel lifts her head, tears streaming. “I officially approve. He’s a keeper.”
“You don’t get a vote,” I tell her.
“I’m taking one anyway.” She gathers her bag, still giggling. “And on that note, I’ve got a man tied to a bed who’s probably getting impatient.”
“Go. Be free. Traumatize your conquest.”