Chapter Five
The Green-Eyed Devil
Adam
Mason Holt has his hand on Lenor’s arm.
That’s the first thing I see when I step into the Severn farmer’s market that Saturday morning.
Fresh bread, jars of honey, and kids darting between stalls, it’s the same small-town scene I’ve grown up with my whole damn life.
But right now, all I see is him, leaning too close, smiling too wide, and fucking touching what isn’t his.
My blood pressure spikes so fast I swear I see red.
Lenor laughs at something he says. It’s polite and distant, the kind of laugh she gives strangers at the inn when she’s trying to be professional. But Mason doesn’t notice the difference. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care. But I do.
I stalk closer, my boots crunching on gravel.
Every step is a warning, but neither of them looks up.
Lenor’s clutching a basket of peaches, her dark hair pulled into a messy knot that makes my fingers itch to pull it down.
She’s in her element here—local, familiar, and part of this town in a way I’ll never be. And Mason is lapping it up.
The man’s been hanging around too much lately, ever since Karmen and Wesley’s wedding.
He’s decent on paper—he owns the hardware store in town, has a good family name, and he’s steady enough that half the old ladies in town are probably praying he marries a “nice girl” like Lenor.
Steady. Reliable. Safe. The exact polar opposite of me.
“Morning,” I bite out as I reach them.
Lenor startles, nearly dropping her basket, but Mason doesn’t move his hand. Doesn’t even blink.
“Adam.” Her voice is cautious, like she’s not sure if I’m here to buy peaches or set the whole damn market on fire.
Mason smirks. “Blake.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you lost? This isn’t the hardware store.”
“Funny,” he says smoothly. “I was just helping Lenor pick out the best fruit. A lady deserves good peaches.”
My fists clench. “I’m pretty sure she knows how to pick her own damn fruit. She has been doing it for years without your assistance.”
Lenor glares at me, shoving Mason’s hand off her arm. “For God’s sake, Adam, it’s peaches. Not a marriage proposal.”
The word “marriage” from her mouth makes my chest seize. I want to grab her and shake her until she sees it, fucking sees me, but I swallow it down, locking my jaw so hard it hurts.
Mason chuckles, the sound smug as hell. “Don’t worry, Lenor. Some guys just can’t handle competition.”
My teeth grind so hard I’m afraid they might crack. “Competition implies you’re in the running, Holt.”
Lenor hisses my name, but I ignore her. My eyes stay locked on Mason, every muscle in my body coiled tight. He stares back, cool and calm, like he knows he’s needling me.
And yeah, he is. But he doesn’t know how far I’ll go if he doesn’t back off.
Lenor finally steps between us, her small frame braced like she’s physically holding back two bulls from locking horns. “Enough. Both of you. Mason, thank you for the peaches. Adam, go brood somewhere else. I don’t need a babysitter.”
She spins on her heel and stalks toward the register, her basket bouncing against her hip. Mason smirks at me one last time before sauntering after her like he owns the ground he walks on.
I stand there, fists trembling at my sides, rage simmering under my skin. The urge to follow and rip Mason away from her is strong, almost too strong, but I force myself to take a breath and step back.
Because if I lose it here, in public, in front of half of Severn, I’ll just prove everyone right. I’ll just be the reckless, dangerous Blake, the same as I’ve always been. The guy you warn your daughters about.
But if I’m ever going to win Lenor, I can’t keep being that guy.
So I shove my hands into my pockets and stalk out of the market before I do something I can’t take back. By the time I make it back to my truck, my chest is still tight. I slam the door shut, grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white, and drop my forehead against it with a low groan.
Jealousy’s a bitch. I’ve never cared about anyone enough to feel it before. I mean, sure, I’ve had my fun. Plenty of women, plenty of nights that blurred into mornings. But I never gave a damn if they looked at another guy. Half the time, I was already looking at another girl myself.
Lenor’s different. She’s everything.
And watching Mason try to slide into the space I want makes me feel like I’m drowning.
Because what if she lets him? What if she chooses the safe guy with the steady life and the respectable business and the approval of every church lady in town?
What if she never believes I can be more than reckless Adam Blake?
The thought tears at me, raw and sharp, and I slam my fist against the wheel, growling low in my throat. “No. Not happening.”
Because here’s the truth—I’m not giving her up. Not to Mason, not to Jacob, not to anyone. She can push me away all she wants, and she can call it one night. I’ll even let her pretend she doesn’t feel what I feel. Because I know better and I’ll prove it to her.
Even if it means burning down every goddamn wall she builds between us.
****
I end up back at Blake’s after brooding for the whole damn day. It’s quieter than usual, just a few regulars hanging out at the bar, and the jukebox is playing something low and twangy. Wesley’s behind the bar, giving me that look he always gives when I stomp in like a storm cloud.
“Rough day?” he asks.
“Something like that.”
“Lenor?” Because all my rough days have something to do with her now.
I glare at him. “Stay out of it.”
He smirks, like he knows exactly what button he just pressed. “I can’t. No one stayed out of my business. And you’re way too obvious.”
“Obvious?” I bark a laugh, sharp and humorless. “She can barely stand me.”
“Sure,” he says easily. “And yet you’re sitting here thinking about her instead of anyone else.”
I flip him off, and he laughs, sliding me a beer. But his words stick. Because maybe I am obvious. Maybe Mason already sees it. Maybe the whole damn town does. But if that’s the case, then maybe Lenor sees it too. And maybe, just maybe, she won’t be able to keep denying it and me forever.
I take a long pull from the bottle, the bitterness sharp on my tongue, and make another silent vow. I’m going to make her mine. Not with fists. Not with jealousy. Not with rage. But by showing her the truth.
That Adam Blake isn’t just reckless. He’s hers. For as long as she’ll let him be.