Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Knox
“They were mush,” Colt said, tearing into an apple fritter. Flakes scattered across the table as he talked, not bothering to brush them away.
The bell over the door at the Copper Cup rang the same way every time someone came in, the hinges giving a familiar creak before it swung shut again. I had one eye on Colt and one on the door, hoping Daisy might stop in before her morning appointments.
We liked getting coffee here anytime we had to come to town.
The brand they served was perfectly strong enough to wake up—and a hundred times better than the grim reaper level stuff at the ranch.
I sat at our usual table with Colt, Ash, and Jake while they argued over whether Eldon’s beans from the rodeo birthday party had overcooked or were just misunderstood.
“They were tender,” Ash shot back, comfortable in his chair with the patience that suggested he’d had this argument before and expected to win it, eventually. “There’s a difference.”
Jake snorted into his cup. “The difference might be in the texture, but they all exit the same way.”
I didn’t laugh as hard as the others; my attention drifted more than I let on. My body was there with boots planted on the worn wooden floor, but my head had been stuck back at the stable, replaying the kiss with Daisy endlessly.
Finally.
After months of circling, teasing, waiting for an opening she never quite gave, I’d taken one anyway—and she hadn’t shut it down. She hadn’t thrown up one of those walls she carried around like armor in my face, but kissed me back. And it was good.
Damn good. That had to mean something.
Didn’t mean it meant the same thing to her as it did to me.
The bell over the door chimed, and my attention snapped up. Daisy stepped inside, carrying a wooden crate of apples braced against her hip. She had shoved the sleeves of her barn coat and sweatshirt to her elbows despite the chill outside, like she’d been working hard since before the sun came up.
“Morning, Daisy,” I called, a little too eagerly.
“Hey guys.” She passed us by, straight to the counter where she set the crate down with a thud. A few strands of her red hair had slipped free from her braid. Any other man might overlook her, but not me. She was still the only woman I saw.
Harper and Sage greeted her from behind the counter. Both of them lit up at the sight of the apples as if Daisy had just delivered gold.
“Brought your apples,” she announced.
“I have so many recipes planned.” Harper reached for one and turned it in her hand, inspecting it for flaws she wouldn’t find.
“I have two more crates for you out in the rig, but that’s all I can spare.”
“Only two?” Sage asked, her brow lifting slightly as she crossed her arms.
Daisy’s mouth curved enough to count as a smile. “I called the produce manager, the one Knox told me about. We worked out a deal. They want every apple as soon as possible.”
For a second, the room stilled, as if it needed a moment to catch up to what she’d just said. Then it hit all at once.
Sage and Harper jumped and yelped with glee.
“Great news.” I pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor, and went to her side.
“That is huge,” Ash added, leaning forward, fully engaged.
Sage came out from around the counter like she couldn’t contain herself. “Daisy, that’s amazing!” They hugged.
“Told you it’d work,” I said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of my voice. I had a stake in this, whether or not she realized it. “You need help with the rest of the crates?”
“I’ve got it—”
“I’ll grab ’em,” I cut in, moving for the door before she could argue about it.
The chill in the air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, sharp with a bite that hinted winter wasn’t too far off. Her rig sat parked near the front of the shop, road dust still clinging to the sides, the bed covered with a tarp that had seen better days.
I climbed into the back, spotting the two crates tucked to one side.
Easy enough. I grabbed both, stacking them one atop the other, adjusting my grip until the weight settled evenly in my arms. My eyes caught something stiff and muddy and out of place, poking out from beneath the edge of the tarp. Not apples.
I hopped out and shifted the crates to one arm.
Temptation took over; I lifted the corner of the tarp just enough to see yard signs.
A stack of them, maybe a dozen or more, shoved together like she’d gathered them in a hurry.
The dirt and grass still caked the metal stakes, clinging stubbornly as if someone had pulled them straight from the ground with little ceremony.
The signs read “Vote for Trevor Brewster for Sheriff.”
A snicker of amusement slipped out of me.
Well, hell. I shouldn’t have been surprised, given where Daisy stood on the election—pro Sheriff Patrick. But ripping these signs of his competition out like that? It took a certain nerve.
The more I learned about her, the clearer it became—she didn’t shy away from anything. Not hard work, not confrontation, not doing what needed to be done even when it wasn’t pretty.
The only thing she seemed to hold back on… was letting anyone get close enough to her to matter. Especially me.
“Got the crates, Knox?”
Her voice came from behind me, pulling me out of it. I dropped the tarp back into place before turning, the crates steady in my grip as I stepped toward her.
She stood just off to the side, arms crossed, chewing her cheek, watching me with a look that said she knew exactly what I’d just seen.
“Got ’em.” Then, tilting my head toward the signs, I teased, “Been doing a little light election tampering this morning?”
Her cheeks flushed almost immediately, color rising fast beneath her skin. “They suddenly showed up posted at our driveway overnight,” she said, her tone defensive but not denying it. “Figured I’d do a little cleanup.”
“Cleanup,” I repeated. “That's what we’re calling it now?”
She lifted her chin, stubborn as ever. “I don’t need to see his name every time I come and go. It’s my property.”
“Fair enough.” I shifted the crates slightly so I could get a better hold on them. “Planning to relocate them?”
“To the garbage bin in the alley behind Ivy’s shop,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.
A grin pulled at my mouth despite myself. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
She huffed out a laugh, the sound lighter than most of what she gave the world. “You’re already on it some days.”
I fell into step behind her, getting full view of her back side. “But you keep letting me hang around anyway.”
“You’re kinda cute to look at.” She sucked in her lips like she hadn’t meant for that to slip.
“Aha, so you have noticed me.” I could do this with her all day, but we both had to work.
Back inside the Copper Cup, we walked straight into a storm.
Voices were raised, slicing through the usual hum of conversation. One old man confronting another.
“I’m telling you, Brewster’s the only one willing to shake things up—”
“And I’m telling you that boy doesn’t know a damn thing about this county!”
“Trevor can figure it out. This county needs fresh blood at the helm.”
“No. We need Sheriff Patrick and his years of experience—”
They stood nearly chest to chest, faces flushed, hands gesturing in tight, agitated movements. Neither was backing down, and both probably waited for an excuse to argue long before this morning with nothing better to do.
Harper thrust herself between them, hands braced on her hips, her expression somewhere between fed up and ready to throw them both out by force.
“You two either lower your voices or take it outside,” she snapped. “I’m not hosting a fight club here.”
“I don’t take direction from the sheriff’s wife,” the Brewster supporter retorted. “Go back to the kitchen where you belong.”
Colt and Ash shot to their feet to defend her. I set the crates down, and I stepped in beside them. No-one messes with a friend of the ODRR.
“That’s enough,” Daisy yelled, raising her voice with plenty of weight behind it.
The idiot turned on her, ready to argue, but I stepped in, growling, filling the space in a way that made it clear he’d be taking his life in his own hands if he moved another inch on her. Colt crossed his arms, his expression harsh enough with a cocked eyebrow that the man second-guessed himself.
Grumbling under their breaths, both men backed off, returning to separate tables with the reluctance that said they’d pick it back up later if given the chance. The ODRR men stood down, returning to their mugs of coffee.
Harper exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her hair and returning to the counter. “Every damn day. This election can’t be over fast enough. I swear, I’m about two seconds from putting up a sign on the door that says no politics allowed.”
“Pretty sure that goes against the First Amendment,” Daisy said, leaning her hip against the counter.
“Don’t care,” Harper shot back, already turning away. “I need peace to return to my shop.”
The bell rang again, and Sheriff Patrick and a couple of his deputies stepped inside; his presence was enough for the room to simmer down without him saying a word.
At the counter, he took one look at Harper. “Is everything all right?”
She forced a smile that didn’t quite stick. “Fine. Just another morning in Forest Grove, debating over the election.”
He didn’t buy it, but he didn’t press.
Daisy stepped forward, her posture adjusting.
“Actually… I was hoping to talk to you, Sheriff, if you have a minute?”
That caught my attention immediately.
The sheriff nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Well…” She hesitated for half a beat, then pushed through it.
“I’ve been going through my dad’s journals.
There are several entries about your dad and things they were looking into.
He mentions the Brewsters, and vehicles, and property lines,” she continued, her voice steady.
“But then I realized how they both passed within a short time of each other. I don’t know if it’s anything, but it felt worth mentioning to you. ”
The sheriff schooled his expression. “Can you bring those journals by the station? I’d like to take a look.”
She nodded. “I will.”
He tipped his hat and moved toward Harper for his coffee she had waiting for him.
I held back, my mind turning over what Daisy had just said. Things she’d been carrying around without saying a word. Not to me, anyway. Would there ever be a day she trusted me with more than just friendship?
Sage set a coffee down in front of Daisy a little harder than necessary. “You want to explain why I’m just now hearing about these things Dad wrote?”
Daisy sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of her neck. “Because it could be nothing. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“That’s not your call,” Sage snapped, her voice tight with something deeper than irritation. “If it involves Dad, it involves all of us.”
“Sage—”
“I know you like to think you always know what’s best for us,” she cut in. “But sometimes you don’t, Daisy.”
With that, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen, letting the door swing shut behind her harder than it needed to.
Harper followed a second later, muttering something about needing more creamer, leaving the front of the shop unattended.
Daisy stayed there, shoulders tight, the heavy weight she carried settling right back into place.
I stepped closer, keeping my voice low enough that it stayed between us. “You’re not wrong, you know, wanting to keep your sisters from worrying.”
She released a heavy sigh. “Doesn’t seem to matter. They worry anyway.”
“That’s kind of how family works. She’ll probably be speaking to you again later tonight, and you two can have a more normal conversation about it.”
She glanced up at me then, blue eyes round, her fingers tightening slightly around her cup. “Thanks.”
“No problem. But now, we’ve got a trip to plan,” I added, nudging things somewhere lighter before she disappeared completely into her own head. “That truck full of apples won’t drive itself to Billings.”
That earned me a grin, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes but showed up anyway. “I am excited about selling off the lot. That part’s going to be an immense relief.”
I nodded, eyeing her carefully. “And the rest of it?”
“What rest of it?” She stared down into her cup.
“The hockey game,” I reminded her.
“We’ll see.” Her guard back up, she was right back to holding the line, keeping just enough distance to remind me where I stood.
I knew how to wait for what I wanted. But waiting only worked if there was something on the other side of it for me. Could I really wait forever for her to come around?