Chapter 1
“Excuse me, that’s my table.”
Startled, I spin around so fast I nearly drop the box of Mason jars in my hands as I come face-to-face with the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. My brain helpfully registers that observation which engages my defense mechanism—silence.
Her hair is light brown and pulled back into a ponytail, and while I don’t go out of my way to meet women, I definitely would have noticed this one if we’d crossed paths before.
But we haven’t.
Not that seeing her before this would have helped me in this moment, but it would have been nice to have time to preemptively panic before this morning.
I swallow and will myself to do anything other than catalog every freckle on her face, but nothing happens. I’m frozen to the worn gym floor and wonder for the hundredth time why I agreed to this winter festival in the first place.
Peeking up at me though thick brown lashes, the kind that are natural, she waits for me to speak—as if I need more time.
I don’t.
Because it’s me, and pretty women render me speechless.
Vying for an out, I frantically look at the number at the corner of the table and try and rack my brain for the email I read last week.
“Hey man,” Jake Booker says as he comes up next to me with a smile, “you’re right over there next to me.” Equally relieved and annoyed at his arrival, I grunt a “thanks” to him before nodding to the woman in front of me.
Turning faster than a wet dog in a truck bed, I hightail it toward the table Jake indicated and try to force my lips upward as his wife, Cheyenne, gives me a bright smile and an enthusiastic wave. There’d been a time when I’d been tempted to ask her out, but that ship had long since sailed and I am happy, and still somewhat surprised, to have them both as friends.
Friends.
That was a weird concept too, but I was trying. I was friendly enough with most people and just left it at that. I didn’t mind the quiet and I didn’t mind being alone. People came to my farm for the quality my family had provided for generations—the quality I still provided.
Which was why I’d been forced into this indoor market event. Setting the box top full of canned pickles and jellies on my table, I blow out a breath and try to calm my nerves. Despite the chilly February weather outside, I can feel a bead of sweat rolling down my spine. It has less to do with the weather and more to do with the woman across the room, but I’m choosing to ignore that.
“She’s still starin’ at you,” Jake says under his breath.
“Who?” Cheyenne asks while she pops up on her toes to peer behind us.
Lord have mercy.
“Stop doin’ that,” I hiss, and Jake chuckles as Cheyenne’s blue eyes go wide.
“You like her?” she whispers back, and I can feel the heat climbing up my neck, my cheeks turning an embarrassing shade of red a moment later.
“How can I like her? Y’all were there. I only saw her for like a minute and I couldn’t even talk to her,” I lament as “That’s Why I Love Dirt Roads” by Granger Smith starts playing overhead. I love this song and I can’t even enjoy it as I replay the last ten minutes over and over.
“You know damn well time doesn’t mean anythin’ when you find the one,” Jake says without taking his eyes off Cheyenne.
I open my mouth with a rebuttal to his declaration, but I’m wasting my breath with these two. Jake had known the moment he saw his wife that she was special, and he’d tell anyone who stopped long enough how he convinced her to finally go out with him.
“You know…” Jake starts but I hold up my hand.
“I don’t need your help,” I grumble even as my heart starts beating faster in my chest. Jake chuckles, and I want to hate him with his dark hair, full beard, and country star good looks that give him an uncanny resemblance to Jordan Davis, but I can’t. He means well, and it’s not his fault I’m so completely inept at social interaction.
“But Archer,” Cheyenne starts, “she’s watchin’ you. You gotta go talk to her!” Cheyenne’s blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she shifts from one foot to the other, her excitement plain on her face as she stares from me to the woman across the room.
I narrow my eyes at her, remembering that she’d been just like me before Jake came and swept her off her feet.
We’d both been painfully shy. I still am, which means there’s a better chance of a shark attack in our little Tennessee town than me walkin’ over like Fred Astaire to talk to a beautiful woman.
I swallow hard. “I’m gonna go grab the rest of my stuff from the truck.”
“Hey, watch out for?—”
Jake’s warning doesn’t come fast enough as I turn and walk straight into the petite frame of the woman who already has me tied up in knots.
Shit.
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