9. June
JUNE
“Hey, Mama,” I answer.
“Hey, Junie,” she returns. “I hope I’m not interrupting—”
“No, you’re totally fine. I’m just…” I peek up at the massive, open gate leading to Ford’s home. Do they always leave it open? They must. I can’t decide whether or not it’s a good thing. Probably good, since I promised myself if the gate was closed, I’d hightail it out of here.
“You headin’ to work?” she prods.
“Uh, yup. I'm on my way in now.”
“Already?”
“Yeah, I just had to…” I drive around the large fountain and park in front of the steps leading to the front door. “I needed to drop something off at a friend’s.”
“That’s sweet. Is it Lexie?”
“No, uh.” Man, I wish it was Lexie. “It’s someone else.”
“Bryan?” she suggests.
“No, it’s…” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It’s a friend of a friend. I made sourdough as a thank you for his help with something and figured I’d drop it off before work.”
“That’s sweet,” she returns. “Your dad and I loved the photo, by the way. Good work, Quasi.”
I smile in spite of myself. “He did well.”
“Looked like it,” she agrees. “Seems like you got the perfect rise, and the crust? I could practically hear the crunch through the photo.”
“Glad you approve.”
“Just wanted to give ya a call to check in. Make sure my Junie’s doing okay.”
“I’m doing good,” I promise. “I miss you guys, though.”
“Miss you too, baby.”
“How’s Dad?”
“He’s good. Just feedin’ the chickens and grabbin’ some eggs so I can make breakfast.”
I check the time on my dashboard. “You guys slept in.”
“Seems we did. It’s funny, when you get old like us, the time doesn’t seem to matter as much. We get to make our own schedules…unless the animals are involved.”
My mouth curves up. “Sounds like you’re living the dream.”
“Retirement is a thing of beauty, Junie, let me tell ya.”
I chuckle softly. “I can imagine.” I check the time again. “Unfortunately, not all of us can make our own schedules quite yet, so I have to go. But I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“No worries. I only wanted to check in and say I love ya.”
“Love you, too!”
“Have a great day at work, all right?”
“Thanks, Mama.” I hang up the phone, then peer up at the massive house once more.
Come on, June. You made it this far. No backing out now.
Reaching for the door handle, I climb out and head up the steps with the little bundle pressed to my chest.
This is a bad idea. I mean, is it a bad idea? It kind of feels like a bad idea, but only because I’m dealing with Ford. If anyone else had stepped up and played tutor, I would’ve done this without batting an eye. So why do I feel like puking in the rose bushes?
My mouth forms a small “o” as I let out a slow breath and raise my hand, tapping my knuckles against the heavy door while ignoring the familiar wave of déjà vu coursing through me.
Tap, tap, tap.
Lowering my hand, I cradle Ford’s present to my chest and wait.
Seriously, what am I doing here? It’s early.
Everyone is probably still asleep. Maybe I should leave it on the porch.
That would make more sense, right? Except I didn’t write a note.
Why didn’t I think to write a note? Muted footsteps cut through my chaotic thoughts, and my pulse ratchets.
Smooth as butter, the door opens, revealing a smiling Cobie on the opposite side. “Hey, June!”
“Hey, Cobie,” I return.
Her eyes fall to the bundle in my arms. “What do you have there?”
“It’s, uh—” A bad idea, is what it is. “Is Ford home, by chance?” I ask.
Her brows raise. “Ford? As in…my brother?”
Is there another Ford I don’t know about?
I rock back on my heels, unsure what to say. “Yes?” No idea why it comes out as a question, but clearly, Cobie isn’t one to push.
“Uh…sure thing. Come on in.” She pushes open the door the rest of the way, turns around, and yells, “Ford! You have a visitor!”
“One sec!” a low voice returns from the back of the massive house.
I move to the side as Cobie walks around me, closing the front door behind us.
This is awkward. Or is it? I don’t even know.
Should I say something? Make small talk, maybe?
Should I try to justify why I’m on her doorstep, asking for her big brother?
Maybe clarify that I’m most definitely not here for anything shady or nefarious or…
promiscuous? Does Ford even get visitors when there isn’t anything shady or nefarious or promiscuous behind it?
Is Cobie even thinking about it? Wondering why I’m on her doorstep?
It’s not like we know each other. We’ve spoken a total of two times, including this very moment.
So, what? I’m here to talk to her brother.
To thank him. Not a big deal. Totally and one hundred percent normal. Right?
My throat constricts, and I shift the silly present in my arms. “Soooo, are you ready for the auction?” I ask.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Cobie shrugs. “Thanks again for your help, by the way. After I spoke with you and Violet, I began knocking on sorority doors and got another twenty or so volunteers.”
“Really?” My eyes bulge. Twenty volunteers? Considering the stipulations, I’m impressed.
Cobie nods. “Yeah. If it’s good enough for Jagger’s girlfriend, I guess it’s good enough for them. Now, we just wait and see how many guys show up.” Her shoulders lift again. “Jagger offered to send out a few invites for me, so I think we’ll have a decent showing? I don’t know. We’ll see, but…”
I don’t hear what else Cobie says. Nope.
I’m a little distracted by a sweaty Ford Harden with taped knuckles in nothing but a pair of dark basketball shorts.
Calves, forearms, chest, abs, they’re all on full display, making my knees threaten to buckle at the view. Does the man not wear clothes at home?
Holy moly, now that’s a cannoli.
I tear my attention from the outline of a certain appendage swinging toward me and look down at my feet instead.
“Hey, Cobes,” Ford says. “June Bug.”
I gulp, forcing my gaze to his face. Sweat clings to his sandy brown hair. A bead glides from his temple and down to his chin as he stares at me with a knowing grin. Yeah, the man knows exactly how good he looks in this moment, and honestly, it isn’t fair.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it,” Cobie announces. “I’ll see you at the auction, June.”
“See you then,” I murmur.
As her bare feet scuff against the floor, the sound quieting with every step she takes further into the house and away from the front, Ford says, “Auction, huh?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. “You gonna bid on anyone?”
I paste on a fake smile. “Hardly.”
“Just going to support Violet, then?” he questions.
“And Cobie,” I return. “She asked me to volunteer, so…”
His brows hitch. “You’re volunteering?”
Why does the man have to look so shocked?
“Mm-hmm.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other, fighting the urge to run like hell. “Uh, here.” I shove the baby-sized loaf toward him.
He barely catches the wobbling bundle before it has a chance to fall to the ground. Curious, he glances up at me. “What’s this?”
“It’s a thank you,” I explain. “You know, for…helping me the other day.” His frown deepens.
“I took my math test, and I’m pretty sure I aced it, or at the very least passed,” I clarify, “even though I haven’t technically gotten my grade for it, but, uh, I feel good, and I haven’t felt good after a math test since like, elementary school, so, thank you. ”
Understanding flickers in his emerald eyes before he peers back at the ticking time bomb in his arms. Gently, he lifts the edge of the hand towel from the bundle, his brows pulled low. “Is this…?”
“Sourdough,” I explain. “It’s not a big deal. I had to make a loaf anyway, but—”
His gaze flicks to mine. “Are you saying I’m holding Quasimodough’s offspring?”
My mouth twitches. Count on Ford to lighten the mood in a way only he can. I tuck my hair behind my ear. “The one and only. Quasimodough,” I clarify. “Technically, there’s been like fifty offspring. Some are loaves. Some are crackers or cookies or…you get the idea.”
“Quasimodough’s a busy girl,” he notes.
“Boy,” I correct him. “He’s definitely a boy.”
“A man after my own heart.” Amusement plays at the edge of his handsome mouth as he brings the bread to his nose and takes a small whiff, breathing in the tangy scent while his eyes hold mine. “And how does that work?”
“They’re like seahorses,” I blurt out. “Doing the heavy labor and all.”
The edge of his lips curves up even more, like he isn’t even trying to hide his mirth this time around. I guess it makes sense. This conversation is nothing short of ludicrous. “Good to know. Do you want to come in? Maybe have a slice?”
“No, I, uh,” I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “I have to get to work, but I figured I’d stop by and drop it off. Like I said, it’s nothing big, I just, I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t grateful for your help with everything. So.” I clear my throat and turn around, reaching for the door handle.
“Hey.”
My fingers hover over the handle, but I don’t grab it. Instead, I peek behind me. “Yeah?”
He lifts the bread loaf, using it to give me a mock salute. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”