Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Haven
It’s not my day to work, but my mind is at the distillery. Hookers and Booze is going on now. Is Prescott meeting with the crochet club? Is she having fun? Do I have an excuse to show up at work that isn’t obvious because I want to see a woman who’s fun to be with?
“Meadow, come.”
The puppy charges after me, her velvety black ears flopping. I give her a quick head scratch, and she follows me out the door. I hear the car before Prescott rolls down the driveway. She doesn’t continue to the barn, but stops at the garage.
What’s she doing here? “Sit.”
The puppy does, and I give her a small treat. She’s been a dream for a dog, and each day that goes by that Prescott doesn’t notify me that a home has opened up for her, I’m relieved.
The kittens are worming their way into my heart too. They get fed once a day, and yesterday, I saw one with a mouse. They would adapt to being inside, but they’re making damn good barn cats. For someone.
Should I offer to keep them? They’ve settled in. I like having them around. Little buggers grew on me.
To be fair, I was wrapped around a furry toe as soon as I saw them. Beautiful woman rescuing them aside.
But if they went somewhere else, then Prescott wouldn’t have a reason to stop by. Like now.
She gets out. Her sunglasses hide her gaze from me, but a pensive energy sizzles over her.
Something’s bothering her. Is she worried about the kittens? “I wasn’t sure if you’d get out here, so I gave the cats a little food.”
“No, it’s not that. I’d like to see them, but…” She scrunches up her face. “I’d like to go to crochet club, but I’m too nervous about just walking into a room full of people I don’t know.” It all comes out in a rush.
She’s anxious, and she came to me? She might not trust me with her heart—for good reason—but she trusts me. I’m usually the guy people go to after they’ve tried my brothers.
“You need me to go with you?” I ask.
“You’re busy, I know. I shouldn’t be nervous. They’re really nice people. Everyone here is so nice . I shouldn’t bother you.”
“It’s ranching, Red. There’s always something to do. Iverson says that if we don’t purposely take time off, someday there’ll be no time to take.”
“The perk of being your own boss. Right?” She throws her hands up. “I’ve got all the time off in the world. You don’t.”
“Neither do you with all that bartending you’re doing. ”
“It’s not, like, a real job. I hang out with my dad, and he keeps asking when I’m going to get a real job.” She bites her lower lip. “He pesters me like he’s making up for lost time.”
My lips twitch. She’s adorably disgruntled. “He might be.”
“He keeps bugging me about starting my own studio. I just told him I was thinking about it to get him off my back.”
“Didn’t work?”
“He’s looking for open space in Billings and Bozeman.”
He cares, and she’s not used to it. Add in her nerves about the crochet club, and she turned to me. Does she realize that? “Let me get Meadow taken care of, and I’ll be right out.”
Once I have the puppy secured in my mudroom with promises to run the pastures after I get back, I sprint outside.
She’s pacing by her car. “I should be able to go by myself.”
“Relax, Red.”
She stops and crosses her arms. “Does that ever work on girls? ‘Relax.’”
“You’ll have to tell me. You’re the first.”
She cocks her hip out, her dubious expression on me. A sexy siren standing right in front of me. I’d rather invite her inside, instead of sharing her with everyone.
Alarm bells go off, but I ignore them. She’s been in my place before. It’s not like she’s moving in. She’s not a rescue I get to decide if I’m going to keep or not. “Unless you count the horses and cattle I’ve said it to.” I pretend to think for a moment. “And some chickens.”
“Did they listen? ”
“It’s all in the tone.” I give her a wink and enjoy the dusting of pink on her cheeks. “As for the crochet club, they’ll be happy to see you.” And to speculate about us, but I’ll handle that.
“I bought yarn,” she says as we get in.
I inhale the floral scent of her in the car. There are undertones of the coffee scent she’s picked up since staying with her dad. “Whatcha making?”
“I have no clue. I just bought some skeins and a whole thing of crochet hooks of all sizes.” She takes off down the road. “They’re going to think I’m stupid.”
“They’re not.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they’ve all taken me in. Durban’s the smart one. Iverson’s always been the boss. That whole crew lets me hang around. Trust me. They’ll like you.” A lot. Like I do.
“Right. I can see that.” There’s a thread of sarcasm in her voice. “Like, ugh. Here’s Haven with his charm and the way he’s always looking after people. I guess we’ll let him stay.”
I grin, but there’s a weird twisting in my chest, right around my heart. “You’re throwing around that C word again.”
“I feel like that’s not the only C word used around you.” She chews on her lower lip as she grips the wheel. “Thank you. For coming with me.”
Anytime, Red . “No trouble. This is my first time going as an attendee.”
“Are guys not allowed?” She turns into the parking lot.
“No, there are guys, but since Campbell’s usually there, Durban often covers it.
Lane’s working today though. I’ll stop in to help because it’s a good time.
” The laughter is a flame, and I’m a moth who loves Edna’s crass jokes.
Will Prescott get that blush when she hears them?
Will I spend the whole time guessing how far down her body it goes?
“Let me get this straight—the crafting is pretty much an excuse to get together and eat and drink?”
“You’re catching on.”
She grins and parks. “Okay. We’re here.”
Well. If I thought I was offering her something special, I’m apparently not. “Want me to go in first? All eyes on me?”
“No, it’s fine. I think I’m just not used to my presence not being justified. I’ve always worked events, not been invited.”
The people in her life have been missing out. Prescott Keys has a big, sarcastic heart. When she points it toward a guy, he starts thinking about things he wrote off a long time ago. “Let’s go learn how to crochet.”
Prescott
I can’t believe I was almost too timid to come to Hookers and Booze.
The tasting room is over half full with the boisterous Edna and her equally riotous friends.
I meet Elodie and her sister, Clementine, who works at Foster House Gold part-time.
Jamison and Campbell are here, along with a couple more of Edna’s friends who aren’t from Huckleberry Springs.
Thanks to Edna’s crew, I’ve heard several dirty jokes that would make my dad blush.
My worry about feeling horribly out of place was unwarranted. I’m not even the only one learning to knit or crochet. Jamison is getting knitting lessons from the grandson of one of Edna’s friends. Then there’s Haven.
He has a big hand clamped around a size H crochet hook, and he’s working on a dishcloth with one of the yarn skeins I bought. He swears the cranberry color will go with his dish towels. All I can remember from his kitchen is how hot he was cooking in it—and that kiss.
He holds out his cloth for inspection. “Whoever’s is the most crooked owes the other a drink.”
“It’s going to be a close race.” I gauge mine against his. “One of my sides looks like the switchbacks of a road going up a steep mountain.”
“Both my edges look like that.” He frowns and turns his cloth. “All of them, actually. I’m gonna owe you a drink.”
Campbell turns our way but doesn’t take her attention off the scarf she’s making for Durban. It’s a rich brown made from alpaca yarn. “You can settle up after we’re done here.”
Haven continues his row, his brows drawing together before relief crosses his face, and he starts his next single crochet. “It’s whatever Prescott wants, but I might need you to stop by my house and let the dog out.”
Campbell’s face brightens. “Can I play with her too?”
“You’re going to steal my dog,” he says with fake accusation.
“You’re keeping her?” she asks.
Haven’s hands stall, and so do mine. His gaze meets mine, and an unspoken question passes between us. If Meadow’s officially his, that’s one less reason for me to be at his place. But she’d have a home, and a good one.
The electric awareness doesn’t fade, and he gives me a small nod. “She might be more of a birder than a herder, but it seems that she’s mine.”
My heartbeat stutters before a thrill surges. Can I be jealous of a puppy? He didn’t want to take her in permanently, but less than three weeks later, she’s his. “One down, three to go.”
“You’re not keeping the cats?” Campbell asks, oblivious to the second shot of tense awareness between me and Haven.
A band tightens around my chest. I want the kittens to have a good home, but I want to keep going out there and snuggling them. If they’re not fosters, that’d be intruding.
Haven tears his gaze from mine and shrugs. “Word’s out. I’m sure they’ll get a good home.”
I could sag with relief. “I’ll have to touch base with the rescue again.” I should’ve done it again before now.
The door from the distillery opens, and Cruz and Durban walk in. Each man’s gaze lands on his respective woman, and it’s like they’ve seen the sun after months of darkness. There’s another wrench in my chest.
I want that.
The loving look from a bride to a groom. From a husband to a wife with their kids surrounding them. Partners who say so many things without saying a word, while they smile for the camera. I don’t want to just be a witness to it.
Cruz veers toward where Elodie is crocheting with her feet outstretched. She’s nice, but definitely more reserved than any of the other women here.
Durban goes straight to his fiancée. I crochet through their kisses, and Haven does the same thing.
“How many times do I gotta say,” Lane calls from behind the bar with a grin, “no public make-out sessions. ”