2. Piper
Piper
It’s probably weird to be seeing a guy when you had a crush on his dad first, but it wasn’t like anything was ever going to happen there. It was just me, caught up in harmless heart eyes and that stupid flutter in my stomach every time I caught a glimpse of him across the bar.
I’m sitting on the edge of my bed in nothing but a towel, freshly showered and shaved because…
well, Baby Crawford is hot, and it’s been a minute.
I haven’t been with anyone since I moved here.
It’s only been a month, but working in a bar full of flannel-wrapped, boot-stomping cowboys most nights, I’m barely hanging on.
Especially the one week after my period, when my hormones decide everyone is fair game, and even the way they tip their damn hats makes me feral.
Knocking on my door snaps me out of my thoughts, and when Violet strolls in wearing her tiny pink pajamas like she doesn’t have a care in the world, I have to physically restrain myself from hurling my hairbrush at her head.
She has these long, gorgeous legs, no hips, and a perky-everything gene.
Meanwhile, I got Mom’s curves: a full ass, a soft belly, and tits that could take someone out if I turned too fast. Don’t get me wrong, I love my body, and I don’t talk shit about it, but sometimes I want to wear a cute little top without my boobs turning it into a tent .
“Well, don’t you look all set for your big night?”
“I’ve got plenty of time,” I mutter, tugging my towel tighter and ignoring her sarcasm.
“So, where’s this guy taking you?” Violet asks as she drops into the gray chair in the corner of my room, her legs slung over one arm. “Somewhere romantic, or are we talking fries-in-a-paper-bag level date?”
“No idea. He said we’d be doing some walking around and then grabbing drinks.”
“Walking around? What the hell does that even mean? Is he taking you to the hardware store? The cemetery? Where?”
“He said it’s a surprise,” I mumble.
“Are you sure you know him well enough to just take off with him?”
“We’ve been texting the past few days. It’s not like I picked him up in a parking lot. Besides, he’s Callan’s nephew.”
“Does Christian know?”
“No,” I say, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. “Pretty sure he doesn’t, anyway. He’s been down at the bar this week and hasn’t said a word about it.”
Her brow lifts. “And you haven’t mentioned it either?”
I hesitate for a moment, but I know she remembers the night I came home after my first shift at The Velvet Stag, practically bouncing off the walls and rambling about Callan’s hot-as-hell brother like I’d just discovered fire.
“Why would I bring it up? That would be weird as hell. Besides, the last time I saw them together, it wasn’t exactly screaming father-son bonding.”
“From what Dillon’s said, their relationship is complicated.”
I nod, but I already knew that much. You could see it in the way Christian looked at him, like a man staring down the barrel of a loaded gun and refusing to blink.
Violet’s face shifts, just for a second. The lightness in her expression dims, and something flashes behind her hazel eyes. Dillon . The man she once thought she’d build a life with. He’s the reason she gave this town a shot in the first place and the man she let go of right before I showed up.
Dillon’s one of the good ones.
He’s the type of guy who’d give you the shirt off his back, his last twenty, and probably offer you a ride to the next town over just to make sure you made it there safe.
He’s a good man in a world that doesn’t always know what to do with a heart like his, but watching him with my sister was like watching someone try to smother a wildfire with a wet paper towel.
My sister burns hot, just like me, and girls like us don’t do easy.
We don’t need soft.
We need a man who’ll fight our fire with their own flames.
But sweet, easygoing Dillon is the most go-with-the-flow man I’ve ever met, and in the end, they fizzled out. The love between them was real once, but their spark faded over time, leaving her with nothing but guilt.
I’m still lost in those thoughts when my phone buzzes in my hand, the vibration pulling me back to the present as I glance down at the screen.
TRAVIS: I’ll be there in an hour. Go for comfort, but make it cute. I plan on showing you off.
I roll my eyes, trying to fight the grin creeping in and failing miserably. I mean, I’ll wear what I damn well want, and if he doesn’t like it, that’s his problem, not mine. But still… what girl doesn’t get a little fluttery when a guy wants to show her off?
I cross the room and pull open my dresser drawer, fingers skimming the fabric before settling on a pair of worn-in denim cutoffs. I toss them on the bed, then add a fitted black T-shirt that clings in all the right places and a pair of scuffed black boots.
“Alright, out. I’m pretty sure you don’t wanna see the underwear I’m about to put on.”
“Definitely not,” Violet says, making a scrunched-up face. “But just check in, okay? I know you’re a grown-ass woman, and if you’re not coming home tonight, that’s your business, but I don’t want to sit up pretending I’ve got nothing better to do than wait for you to get back. ”
“Okay, okay. I’m coming home. The most he’ll get is maybe a little over-the-underwear action.” She stands, and I catch the sound of her laughter echoing down the hallway as the door snaps shut behind her.
I straighten my long, black hair so it falls sleek and shiny halfway down my back, then swipe on some makeup—nothing wild, just a little dark-red lipstick and some mascara.
An hour later, my phone buzzes. It’s Travis, texting to let me know he’s outside waiting for me.
There’s no knock at the door or gentlemanly come-to-the-front-porch move.
Maybe I’ve read too many romance books, but at this point, my standards are basically fictional.
And those men, the ones who exist only on my phone at two a.m., they’re filthy, thoughtful, and they’d knock.
They’d wait for me to answer and have one hand braced on the doorframe like they owned it.
They sure as hell wouldn’t send a “here” text like they’re delivering a pizza.
Still, I grab my bag, step outside, and immediately spot Travis in the most obnoxiously flashy, fire-engine red sports car I’ve ever seen.
I slide into the passenger seat, the leather cool against my skin, and smooth my hands over my thighs as I glance at him.
He takes one long, slow look at me, eyes dragging over every inch like he’s trying to memorize the view, and when he lets out that low whistle, I feel it right down to the tips of my toes.
“You look hot as hell.”
“Thanks,” I say, trying not to smile too hard.
Apparently, I’m that girl now who goes all soft over a half-decent compliment and a pretty face.
Travis shifts into gear and pulls away from the curb with one hand draped casually over the wheel.
It’s June, so the evening light lingers longer, painting the sky in those soft, dreamy shades of dusk—pink at the edges, with hints of gold.
The warm air floats through the open windows, carrying the scent of pine and freshly cut grass, and when I breathe in, I catch his cologne.
It’s that boyish, sun-soaked scent that has you picturing sweat-slicked skin and messy hair and gets your mind wandering somewhere it probably shouldn’t.
“So… are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”
“You don’t like surprises? ”
“I don’t like murderers,” I deadpan, and when he throws his head back with a laugh, his dark-blond hair falls away from his forehead.
“Okay, fair. But if I promise I won’t hurt you, does that help?”
“Not really,” I say, grinning.
The truth is, I don’t really think he’s gonna drive me into the woods and murder me. He doesn’t have that serial killer vibe. But I’ve watched enough true crime to know you never see it coming.
“I thought we’d go for a walk. Somewhere quiet with a view. After that, if you’re up for it, maybe a drink. Just… not at Callan’s.”
“You don’t like it down there, huh?”
“You caught that.”
“You don’t exactly seem close to the Crawfords.”
He huffs a soft laugh through his nose. “Yeah, well… I’m not. But they’re still family, I guess.”
“Families can be complicated,” I murmur, more to myself than to him.
“Can’t choose ’em, right?”
We continue chatting about small-town life as we wind our way up a narrow gravel road, the trees thickening around us, when I spot the sign for Christian’s farm, and just like that, my stomach drops to somewhere around my knees.
“Wait… why are we going to your dad’s place?”
He glances at me quickly, then returns his focus to the road. “You’ve never been up there?”
“No,” I say, my heart battering against my ribs.
“It’s beautiful, especially this time of year. The way the sun filters through the trees right before it sets… I don’t know. It’s peaceful and kind of romantic. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“That actually sounds… really nice,” I admit, swallowing the nerves crawling up my throat. “Do you think he’ll be home?”
“Probably,” he says. “I didn’t tell him we were coming.”
“Is he going to be okay with that?”
Travis grins, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. “Honestly, I never really come up here, so I’m hoping he’ll actually be glad to see me for once.”
I feel my shoulders tense as we finally turn onto Christian’s driveway, the tires grinding softly over the gravel as his home reveals itself.