6. Sutton #2
She gives me the evil eye, pointing to Rowan.
“Bullcrap,” I say. “And how in the world can we do this together? Am I supposed to chaperone all of your dates to make sure you don’t scare them away before they’ve had a chance to say hello?”
“Oh, shut up, I’m not that bad.” She shoves a handful of trail mix into her mouth.
“Yeah, you are,” James calls out, laughing from behind the coffee bar.
“You like working here, right, James?” Navy says.
“I sure do.” He puts his hands up in defeat. “Don’t mind me. I didn’t say a thing.” He makes a zipping motion across his lips and places more cinnamon rolls on a pan.
“He’s right, you know,” I tell Navy. “You’re a marshmallow inside and a cactus outside.”
“Maybe I’m ready to turn over a new leaf. Maybe I can show them I’m not as prickly as I appear?”
“You might be onto something.”
Just then a text message pings on my phone.
Hunter: We need to talk.
Me: About?
Hunter: A certain dating profile and the fact lots of guys think you’re available.
“Great!” I pin Navy with my eyes. “Now Hunter is texting me about the profile, and he’ll be all over me about it.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if that man grabbed you, threw you onto his bed, and—”
“Shut up!” I cover her mouth with my hands.
“Sutton,” she mumbles against my palms. “It’s time you gave me the details of all that.”
Greer walks up to our table. “All what?”
I startle, pulling my hand from Navy’s mouth. “Good god, Greer, where did you come from?”
She laughs and pulls out a chair. “The front door like a normal person.”
“I swear,” I mutter. “They must have a course on ninja skills in teacher college.”
“Just grabbing coffee before work,” she says, settling in. “So, what all of that are you going to give us details about?”
“Her and Hunter,” Navy says.
“Navy,” I give her a you’re not being helpful look. “You’re such a meddler.” I grab my phone and text Hunter back.
Me: I’m busy today.
Hunter: We haven’t talked or seen each other since Saturday.
Hunter: I’m dying over here, babe.
Pretty sure my heart might be a puddle.
Me: Tomorrow?
Hunter: Be ready by eight. You can come scouting with me.
Of course he knows exactly the right thing to say to get me to say yes. I might dress like a fancy city girl, but the forest is my favorite place. As John Muir said, it’s where I go to “lose my mind and find my soul.”
Me: Deal.
Hunter: Can’t wait.
I roll my eyes, wanting to remain aloof, but it’s little moments like this that make it so hard to keep him at arms length.
Me: Have a good day.
Hunter: Be safe today and keep in touch with me, okay? There’s a big storm rolling in.
Me: Always do.
I close the screen and return my phone to my purse.
“Was that Hunter?” Greer nods to my purse.
“What makes you say that?” I ask.
Navy leans across the table, eyes wide in accusation. “Only that dreamy look you get on your face every time he’s around, texts, or his name is mentioned.”
“I like Hunter,” Rowan pipes in with a little grin. “Maybe you can find love with him, Miss Sutton.”
The three of us burst into a fit of giggles.
“You told her about the profile?” Greer asks.
“You knew?” I cut Greer with a scowl.
“Actually,” Navy says, pointing to James, “he kind of blew my cover before I could say something.”
“I’m not really dating,” I remind them.
“We know you don’t date,” Navy says. “Most of the town knows you don’t date.”
Greer gives me a small smile. “It’s been over six years since you and Brandon broke up.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I blurt out. My stomach plummets at my harsh tone, but I don’t need any reminders of how long it’s been.
“I’m sorry—” Greer starts.
But Navy quickly cuts in. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“Why do I feel like I’m in the hot seat today?” I inhale through my nose and release it slowly. “It really sucks.”
“It does,” Navy says, her tone firm, “but you’re going to sit your butt in it and talk to us.”
I know I won’t get out of here without telling them something.
I take another steadying breath. No one but Hunter knows what I’m about to tell them.
“Brandon was the only man I was with who I ever truly allowed myself to lean on, the only relationship I didn’t try to control.
I just wish I could have seen that we were a mistake.
” I blink rapidly to keep my tears from falling.
“Why was it a mistake?” Greer prompts.
A shrill ringing from my purse breaks the heaviness surrounding our table. I fumble, pulling out my phone, and wipe away a few errant tears.
“Hello,” I practically yell into the phone. “This is Sutton Bradley.”
“Sutton, this is Mrs. Weeks. We headed out to the property a little early to poke around before the storm rolls in.”
“Oh, that’s great. I can be there in fifteen minutes.” I end the call, slide my phone back into my hand bag, and stand from the table. I shrug. “Duty calls.”
Navy rolls her eyes. “This is not over, Sutton. And you’re in luck because girl’s night is Friday.”
“That’s right,” Greer says. “I’ve got everything ready for us to make your famous lasagna. You can tell us ev-er-y-thing then.”
I look away, bending down to kiss Rowan’s forehead. “Have fun on your field trip.”
His little arms wrap around my waist, and he buries his face in my chest. “Love you, Miss Sutton.”
“Love you, too, Row.”
“Sutton . . .” Navy has a stern tone.
“Yes, Navy,” I grumble. “We’ll talk. I promise.”
I give each of them a quick hug, grab my raincoat, and sprint to my car. I’ve avoided this conversation with my best friends for as long as I can. And as scared as I am, it’s time I tell them everything.
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling into the Johnson property, where the Weeks are currently peeking through the windows. I laugh when Mrs. Weeks motions for her husband to give her a boost. He links his fingers together and lowers them as a makeshift step.
“This should be interesting.” I take my time gathering the MLS listing, content to watch this train-wreck unfold.
Sure enough, the moment Mrs. Weeks puts her foot into Mr. Weeks’s waiting hands, he loses his balance completely. He topples, trips over a decorative boulder, and practically somersaults over the hedge.
“Henry!” Mrs. Weeks screeches.
She tries to get to him, but trips over the same rock and falls right on top of him.
Neither can stop laughing nor are they making a move to get up.
He takes her hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing her palm.
I wish I could hear what he says that makes her smile bloom and bury her face in his chest.
I’d like to tell them how lucky they are to have found their person, but I know they know. The Weeks run Torn Pages, the independent bookshop in town, and have been married for well over thirty years. I try rubbing away the sudden pinch in my chest.
I open my car door and call out, “Are you two okay?”
Both smile at me as they try and fail multiple times to get up from the ground. I offer my hand, but my stiletto heels immediately sink into the moist soil.
“I should have chosen different shoes today,” I say through laughter.
“Oh dear, we’re a mess.” Mrs. Weeks makes it to her feet and pulls her husband up. She brushes off her hands and pants and turns to me. “Should we get started?”
We spend the next forty-five minutes exploring every inch.
The Weeks have talked about starting a bed-and-breakfast for years, so when this property became available, I knew I had to show it to them.
It’s a large farmhouse with multiple bedrooms and a huge downstairs that’s perfect for entertaining.
“This house is just wonderful, Sutton.” Mr. Weeks steps into the kitchen. “You’ve outdone yourself once again.” He motions with his head to the broken cabinets. “It’s in desperate need of updating though.”
I nod. “It does need a little tender love and care, but the bones are perfect for a B and B. Most of the work would be renovating, not rebuilding. Plus, the price can’t be beat for a property like this. You’ve got nearly ten acres, and it butts up to Dove River.”
“I can already picture it.” Mrs. Weeks gazes out the window to the part of the yard where the river cuts in. “A little gazebo right there would be perfect for weddings.”
“It would, Jean,” Mr. Weeks says. “But we don’t know anything about renovating a house.”
My fingers tingle with the possibility that an opportunity to do what I’ve always wanted is suddenly right in front of me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to volunteer.
You won’t know unless you try.
Hunter’s advice comes flooding back to me, and before I can stop them, words come tumbling out.
“I could help with that.” I bite my top lip. I’m sure my eyes are the size of medium pizzas.
“You could?” Mr. Weeks asks.