20. June
JUNE
Most of the chili recipes are delicious.
Seriously, I love the different combinations and how much creativity goes into every dish.
All that’s missing is my sourdough. Quasimodough would take these recipes to the next level.
Honestly, the food has been a pretty solid distraction from all things Ford, and I’m not complaining.
Even so, I haven’t seen him for at least an hour.
I hate how I notice his absence. I glance around the tents scattered throughout despite my best effort, but I can't help it.
Did he leave with her? The girl? Does it matter?
No. No, it does not.
The tents are set up in a large circle. Each one sports a different batch of chili so people can simply start in one direction, testing and tasting and rating until winding up right back where they started.
When I catch the familiar sign highlighting the chili Ford labeled as mine, my shoulders deflate ever so slightly.
I guess this is it. No more chili. No more potential sightings of Ford.
The thought hits me before I can stop it.
Seriously, June?
“No way,” Bryan mutters beside me. He spent the last hour introducing me to dozens of people until they were nothing but a sea of faces.
Nice faces. Polite faces. But could I pick any of them out of a lineup?
Probably not. I’d like to tell myself it’s because there have been so many, but a tiny voice inside of me can’t help but wonder if the real reason is because I’ve been distracted by the lack of presence from a certain someone who took care of me last night.
“He actually came,” Bryan reveals. His tone is nothing short of awe as he drags me back to the present.
“Who?” I follow Bryan’s line of sight and frown. An older gentleman with a solid physique in a button-up, with a gray peacoat and slacks, stands a tent away. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him. “Who’s that?” I finally ask.
“Titas Harden.”
“Harden?” The word comes out as a squeak as I piece together why the stranger looks familiar.
The auction. He was sitting at Ford’s table.
Thanks to the stage lighting, my nerves, and the curveball Ford threw in front of everyone, I was a bit preoccupied that evening.
But now that Bryan has mentioned it, I most definitely recognize the guy.
“Yeah, we met at the auction,” Bryan explains. “Seems like a really nice guy.”
Nice guy? From what I’ve been told, he’s the furthest thing from it.
“What’s he doing here?” I ask.
He’s coming this way. Why would he be coming this way?
“You think I should talk to him?” Bryan asks, distracted. “Maybe thank him for coming?”
“What do you mean, thank him for coming?”
Bryan shrugs. “I invited him.”
“Here?” the same squeak taints my response, and I clear my throat. “You invited him to the cook-off?”
“Yeah, he said he’s a fan of philanthropy and supporting charities, fundraisers, that kind of thing, so I mentioned I’m a fireman and how we’re always looking for more support. Then, he said he’d be happy to contribute if anything ever comes up, so I told him to stop by the chili cook-off.”
“Oh.” My shoulders deflate even more. If that isn’t a logical response, I don’t know what is. If only I could keep my distance from all things Ford-related, then I’d be golden. Alas, here we are. Mere feet away from his freaking father.
Bryan’s hand trembles a little as it grazes my lower back before he tugs me into his side.
Is he nervous? I peek up at him, catching his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
He is nervous. Titas must’ve made a real impression on him.
Either that, or Bryan’s aware we live in more of a monarchy than most understand, and Titas Harden is the uncrowned king of all of us.
It makes sense. Not everyone has moved here from Austin, Texas, like I did.
Bryan probably wants to make a good impression on the guy.
And me? All I want to do is get the heck out of here.
If only Bryan wasn’t pinning me to his side, it’d be a lot easier to accomplish, yet here we are.
Waiting. For what, I’m not sure. Bryan to decide whether or not he wants to address the proverbial elephant in the room, who’s striding toward where we’re standing?
Personally, I’m more of a blend in kind of gal, but I’m not the one who wants to talk to Titas Harden, now am I?
Ticket in hand, Titas stops in front of the booth where we’re loitering. He drops the ticket into the jar. “One chili, please,” he announces.
The helper dishes him up while I stand stiffly beside Bryan, unsure what to do or say.
It’s not like I know him, and I’m sure he has no idea who I am, but still.
This feels…awkward, and Bryan isn’t helping.
It’s like he can’t decide whether or not he should approach Ford’s dad and thank him for coming, so instead of saying something or walking away and leaving things as is, he’s just…
standing here. With me by his side. Yup.
This is definitely awkward. I pull out my phone in an attempt to look distracted, or busy, or, I don’t know… something.
“Enjoy,” the person dishing out the chili says.
“Thanks.” Mr. Harden picks up the little cup in my periphery, but stops short.
I swear, I can feel his gaze on the top of my head.
It’s unnerving as heck. Or maybe he’s looking at Bryan.
That would make more sense, wouldn’t it?
It’s not like he has any reason to recognize me.
I didn’t invite him here. Bryan, on the other hand…
“Looks like you made it,” Bryan announces. “Thanks again for supporting the local fire department.”
“Bryan, right?” Mr. Harden decides. “Thanks for the invitation. There are some great chefs around here.” He lifts the chili in his hand.
“That recipe is actually my girl—” He hesitates.
“Friend. My…June. This is June. It was donated by June.” He pushes me an inch forward and squeezes the back of his neck.
To be fair, I appreciate his backpedaling because we most definitely are not boyfriend and girlfriend.
Heck, we’ve only kissed twice, and only one of those had tongues involved.
Not that it matters. It’s just…we’re not official.
We’re testing the waters, and having fun and feeling out our chemistry, and… My spine turns to steel.
Now is not the time to be analyzing everything, June.
I offer my hand to Ford’s Dad. “Hi, I’m June.”
“Bryan’s June, yes.” He shakes my hand. It’s icy but firm, just like his stare. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.”
“I’m Titas Harden.”
“Of Harden Heights,” I quip. “Your legacy precedes you.”
“So, it does.” He tilts his head, studying me, and holy crap, it’s like looking at an older Ford.
My stomach tightens, and my breath stalls.
I saw the resemblance before, but now? It’s nothing short of uncanny.
The only thing missing is the usual warmth accompanying Ford’s gaze.
“You were at the auction, too, weren’t you?
” he continues, oblivious to my inner spiral.
Recognition sparks in his coal-black eyes.
“Yes, I remember now. That was quite the bidding war.”
“Don’t remind me,” Bryan jests. “Not all of us have tens of thousands to throw around.”
“Well, clearly, she’s with whom she belongs.” He tacks on a pointed look at Bryan’s hand resting on my waist. “So, tell me about yourself, June.”
“Uh,” I try to think of something clever, but only come up with the first day of school drivel I’m used to regurgitating.
“My name is June Withers. I’m from Texas.
I’m currently a dental assistant in a pediatric dental office, and I’m going to HHU so I can become a hygienist. When I’m not working, I’m studying or baking or… .”
“Going on dates with my youngest son?” he prods.
Bryan’s stiff chuckle does nothing to cover the blanket of discomfort hovering over our conversation.
I paste on a fake smile. “Uh, only the ones he pays for.”
A low rumble of amusement vibrates up Mr. Harden’s throat. “Ones? As in…plural?”
“Only the one,” Bryan answers for me.
I smile up at him, then turn to Mr. Harden. “Ford’s older brother is dating my friend, Violet. Pretty sure the only reason he bid on me was out of pity, so—”
“Twelve thousand is hardly what anyone would consider a pity bid, June Withers,” he counters.
So he does remember me. The realization doesn’t exactly leave me feeling very confident.
Seems like to me, being as far from this guy’s radar is the way to go.
A shiver runs down my spine, my fight or flight instincts rearing like a freaking bronco.
There’s something about him. Something I can’t place.
All I know is I don’t trust him. I don’t trust him one bit.
“Okay, maybe not a pity bid, but as a favor to a friend,” I clarify.
“Although, if you want to discuss specifics, we saw Ford around here somewhere.” I look around the large open space, unable to hold Mr. Harden’s icy black gaze for another second.
“You’re welcome to ask him his intentions.
Not that there are any or anything. Like I said, we’re just friends. ”
“Yes, Ford has plenty of…friends.” Mr. Harden takes a bite of the chili and hesitates, tasting it. “And where did you find this recipe?”
“Online,” I lie.
“Reminds me of an employee’s recipe.”
Crap. Considering Ford’s the one who delivered said pot of chili to the event, it’s very possible it is an employee’s recipe.
Mr. Harden smacks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Delicious.”
Pulse thrumming, I force out, “Thank you.”
Mr. Harden dips his chin, then offers his hand to Bryan. “Thank you again for the invitation.”
Bryan shakes his hand with the enthusiasm of an elementary school kid meeting a superhero. “Thanks for coming.”
“Are you kidding?” With a smile, Mr. Harden lets go of Bryan’s hand.
“I love supporting our local first responders. And you know, if you ever want to earn some extra cash so you can toss around thousands like my son, let me know,” he adds.
“I’m sure I could drum up something to help you out. Our civil servants aren’t paid enough.”
Bryan’s eyes widen. “Uh, are you serious? Thank you. That’s…a very generous offer.”
Mr. Harden lets out a low chuckle and leans closer as if he’s sharing a secret. “Don’t tell anyone. After all, I have a reputation to maintain.” He winks, then stands to his full height. “If you ever need anything, let me know.”
“You, too,” Bryan returns.
As he leaves, Bryan faces me. “Do you think he’s serious?”
“About what?” I ask.
“About maybe helping me earn some extra cash. You know my family’s situation,” he adds with a somberness that kills me.
He’s right. I do. Not the specifics, but enough to know his parents struggle to pay their bills every month, including his little sister’s dental cleaning.
At first, I thought it was a simple accident before bringing it up to Bryan the other day, which is when I learned the truth.
Honestly, the fact that Bryan bid on me at all during the auction after learning about his family’s financial situation was pretty much the biggest, sweetest gesture ever.
“I think that would be amazing, Bryan,” I murmur.
“Yeah.” He sighs. “Not going to get my hopes up, but it would be nice.”
“If you want me to put in a good word for you, I can,” I offer. “I mean, I do know a few of the Harden men.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Like Mr. Harden said, he has a reputation to maintain.” A smirk plays at the edge of his lips. “And speaking of reputations, I’m sorry for talking out of my ass.”
I frown. “About what?”
“Well…” He squeezes the back of his neck shyly. “I’ve introduced you to a dozen people today, and I never stumbled over labels, but then Mr. Harden walked up and…I don’t know what happened. I guess I was starstruck or something.”
With a laugh, I cover my flaming cheeks.
That’s what he took from this conversation?
He feels bad about almost calling me his girlfriend before clarifying that I’m his…
June? Talk about dodging a bullet. He could’ve zeroed in on the whole, this chili tastes like my employee’s, or are you sure you’re just friends with my youngest son?
Yeah. There are a handful of options that would’ve been a disaster for Bryan to hold onto.
If he wants to stick with the relationship label, I’m more than good with it.
I look up at him and grin. “Trust me, Bryan. We’re on the same page.”
Bending down, he kisses me again before pulling away and giving me a look that would make most girls giddy. “And that’s why you’re perfect for me.”