Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
HAWK
“It’s been many years since I had such an exemplary vegetable.”
~ Mr. Collins
I came off the mountain feeling euphoric. Even though Jack had been gone for hours, I still felt the imprint of his lips on mine, of his hands on my hips, of his warm breath in my hair.
He wanted me.
When I pulled my car in front of the farmhouse at Sunday Orchard shortly after noon, I was so happy I felt buoyant.
Like little champagne bubbles of excitement fizzed through my bloodstream.
It wasn’t every day a person got to experience something they’d been dreaming of for seven years and then spent two weeks thinking they would never, ever have.
But today was my day, and I defied the universe itself to try to bring down my mood.
I have kissed Jack Wyatt—more than once—and he’s agreed to pop my cherry. Jane Austen herself could not have written me a happier ending than this. Come at me, bro.
“Afternoon, everyone!” I sang as I walked through the front door.
Luke sat cross-legged on the couch surrounded by papers, as usual—probably lesson plans, crochet patterns, or a combination of both.
Webb, dressed in his usual summer uniform of cargo shorts and a Sunday Orchard T-shirt, sat slumped beside him, a cold drink in his hand.
And Aiden crouched on the braided rug at their feet with our old dog, Sally Ann, and his new puppy, Black Bear.
“Uncle Hawk!” Aiden cried. “I thought you lived on a mountain now!”
“Only temporarily.” I grinned. “And I had to come back for Pye Day, right?”
“Yeah! So… maybe can you help me?” he asked eagerly, all big green eyes and sandy hair.
“I wanted to enter either Sally Ann or Bear into the pet show at the potluck, but neither one of ’em knows any tricks.
Luke says Bear’s too little to learn, and Dad says Sally Ann’s too old, so I figured maybe if I tried to teach them together, they’d help each other. ”
“That’s good thinking.” I raised an eyebrow at my brother. “And I think you need to remind your dad that old dogs can definitely learn new tricks if you give them the right motivation. Right, Webb?”
Webb rolled his eyes and leaned into Luke’s side.
“You mean, like… give ’em treats?” Aiden suggested doubtfully.
“Exactly that.” I shot Luke a wink. “Wouldn’t you agree, Luke?”
Luke laughed and blushed. “It definitely doesn’t hurt,” he agreed.
Aiden passed me on his way to the kitchen to get the dog treats, and the dogs scrambled to follow.
“Gotta go.” I hooked a thumb up the stairs. “I’ve been dying for a shower and fresh clothes. Then I’ve gotta get to work and the potluck. Will I see you guys there?”
Luke nodded, and I shot them both a smile before turning toward the stairs.
“Hey, Hawk?” Webb called.
“Yeah?” I turned back.
“Everything… good?” he asked, his eyes raking me up and down.
For the first time in months, I didn’t see that concerned look as Webb not trusting me to handle my own life. Instead, I saw it for what it probably always had been: love.
He would probably always worry about me, but his concern only had as much weight as I gave it. It was up to me whether I felt that worry as a crushing burden or a warm, comforting blanket.
“Yeah, Webb.” I grinned. “Things are really good.”
“Good,” he grunted, slinging an arm around his husband.
As I made my way up the stairs, I wondered what Webb would think if—when?—he heard about me and Jack, but I wasn’t going to stress about that.
Today, I had much more important and fun things to think about.
Jack Wyatt wanted me—really, this was so remarkable it bore repeating—and even the most jaded, cautious part of my brain, the part that usually insisted things were too good to be true, was barely whispering its usual warnings.
Not when Jack had told me deeper truths this morning than he’d shared in seven years.
Not when he’d stared at me with naked vulnerability and wanting on his face.
Not when he’d shown himself in every way to be the man I’d dreamed of all these years.
And that wasn’t the only area of my life that seemed to be looking up.
My social media campaign had gotten attention outside of Little Pippin Hollow—another environmental influencer had shared one of my posts in her Instagram story just that morning—and somehow, the wider attention was getting me more local attention, too.
Several members of the Environmental Committee—not including Ms. Fortnum, who still seemed super cagey about the development for whatever reason—had hiked up to Glassy Ridge earlier in the week, looking to me like I was their leader and asking what help I needed to continue educating people about the risks of the development proceeding according to the current proposal.
After a long shower, where I sluiced off half a week’s worth of dirt and took my time making some preparations for what I really hoped would be the best night of my life, I made my way to the farmhouse kitchen for some food since I figured I’d be too busy helping out once I got to the diner to eat anything.
Drew and Marco were seated at the long wooden table. Two glasses of iced tea and a half-empty plate of cheese and crackers sat off to the side of their double-solitaire game. Things looked intense.
“Marco, jack of diamonds on the… yeah. Oh, and right there, the three of clubs…”
Drew shot me a glare. “Hawkins Sunday, whose side are you on? No cheaty hints from the likes of you. He’s already kicking my ass.”
Marco grinned without taking his eyes off the cards in front of him. “Four out of four so far. His game is off ever since I sent him a link to an article about—”
“Zzt!” Drew hissed. “He doesn’t need to know about that.”
My ears perked up as I made my way to the fridge.
These two were always trading obscure information on all kinds of inappropriate topics.
“Was it the one about using Yohimbe for sexual vitality? Webb sent that to all of us, but what you might not have known is that he got it from Mrs. Williams, and it was a whole thing. Luke was mortified. But clearly, something’s working for them. ”
Marco’s concentration finally broke, and he threw his dark head back with laughter. Drew took the opportunity to slam as many cards down on the piles as he could before he ran out of moves.
“No,” Marco said through a few final giggles. “It was about—”
“Marco Polo Vanzetti, if you ever want to see the inside of our bedroom again, you will cease and desist forthwith—”
“Genital shrinkage in old age,” Marco finished before howling with laughter again. “You should have seen his face. I swear he wanted to whip out a measuring tape and make some assessments.”
“You’ll be lucky if I ever want to whip out anything ever again,” Drew muttered, studying the game for any other potential move he could make.
He called over his shoulder without looking, “There’s some fresh tomatoes on the windowsill and fresh bread in the bread box if you’re looking for a snack, Hawk. ”
“Good idea.” I pulled mayo from the fridge and cut myself some thick slices of Drew’s buttermilk bread.
“And if you’re still looking for volunteers to help with your Environmental Committee,” Drew said, “I’m ready to bust out my love beads and protest songs. I feel kinda bad that I haven’t made that a priority. I support you, you know that.”
“Really?” I glanced up at him. “That would be amazing. Yes, I’d love your help. Thank you, Uncle Drew.”
He gave me a wink.
“So, Hawk, speaking of genitals—” Marco turned in his seat to look at me.
“Ooooh, no. We were not speaking of them,” I reminded him, looking back down at my food. “For the record, I had no part in that conversation.”
“—any luck in the cherry department? ’Cause if you’re in the market, Gage heard from Drake, who heard from Van at the Bugle that he’s got a new server over there who’s a real looker—”
“Chris,” I supplied.
“No, not her. It was a guy.” Marco narrowed his eyes at me. “Thought you were gay. Not that you need to, you know, label yourself or whatever, but—”
“I am gay.” I rolled my eyes. “There are two new employees at the Bugle. Crys, short for Crystal, who’s my friend, and Chris, short for…
I don’t know what, who’s a guy.” I shook my head.
“I don’t get it—he’s worked at the Bugle, like, five shifts a week for the past few months, but no one seems to know the man.
It’s a little creepy. When Gage moved to town, everyone in the Hollow knew his favorite kind of cheese, his top five Christmas memories, and his thoughts on the Bruins’ playoff chances within the first week. ”
Marco shrugged. “All I know is what I heard, and what I heard is that he’s a cutie pie who’s real sweet and quiet.
Now, Gage made it pretty clear this guy’s not as hot as Knox, but then again, Knox was sitting right there, and Gage knows where his bread is buttered.
A man’s morally obligated to downplay the relative hotness of every other eligible man in the vicinity when the love of his life is in the room.
It’s one of those compromises folks make when they commit to each other. ”
“Wait just a minute.” Drew narrowed his eyes. “The other day when we heard that Jayd Rollins’ song on the radio and I asked you if he was better-looking than me…”
“Anyway, Hawk,” Marco said quickly. “If you want me to get the guy’s number—”
“Marco.” Drew looked affronted. “Next, you’ll be saying Jayd’s a better guitar player than I am!”
Marco shot him a guilty look, and Drew gasped.
“Uh, thanks anyway, but I’ve got the situation taken care of,” I said, hoping to extricate myself from an awkward conversation before it got worse.
When two pairs of eyes turned to me, cards forgotten on the table, I realized I’d fully intricated myself into that awkward conversation instead.
“Is that so? Care to tell us who the lucky fella is?” Drew asked, acting ridiculously casual. He lowered his voice. “You can trust us to be discreet.”
“’Course you can. We’re the very souls of discretion,” Marco agreed solemnly.