Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Hartley sighs, heading to the sink. He turns on the tap and fills the sink with hot, soapy water. “I don’t want to get into the weeds about it because it’s none of my business. But I heard that he was messing around with a girl from Colfax County while he was with you, and I don’t need that bullshit around, you know?”
I exchange a look with my sister as Hartley washes a couple of pans in the sink.
“And I don’t need that bullshit around.” He says it so offhandedly, like it costs him nothing—like that kind of nobleness and humility are just who he is … because it is.
His back muscles ripple beneath his shirt.
Well, he’s that and sexy as fuck, too.
My heart softens as my core heats as I watch him. It’s a volatile combination that I’d love to blame on the tequila from last night—from allowing myself to fall into his arms and experience the warmth of his body for a few minutes. I know better than to let interactions with Hartley get to that point, a problem I rarely have, thanks to my avoiding Sugar Creek and his avoiding me.
I hate that it must be this way, but it does.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his forearms in that shirt.
“Yup,” Markie says, turning off the oven. “Jasper was cheating on me. That pisses me off because, I mean, he cheated on me. Why couldn’t he have just broken up with me, you know?” She grabs mitts and opens the oven, taking out a platter of chicken that Lolly was keeping warm. “But more than that, word has it that he might be plotting to try to take me out in the pickleball tournament during the Sugar Days festival.”
I cover my mouth so that my sister doesn’t see my smile.
“Well, I’d hope he’s not dumb enough to do that,” Hartley says, keeping a straighter face than me.
“Right?” Markie rolls her eyes. “I’m the ten-year reigning champ, and a cheating punk will not challenge me. I don’t care who I have to get as a partner—because we’d been practicing so we could do it together—but I will beat his ass until he doesn’t recognize it from a hole in the ground.”
A giggle escapes my lips as Lolly opens the door.
“Hartley, you made it,” she says, pulling him down to kiss his cheek. “Looking good, handsome. I love green on you.” She flicks the open collar of his shirt. “You should wear it more often.”
“Geez, Lolly,” Markie says, winking at me. “Did you bring him here to seduce him or what?”
Hartley blushes.
“Who brought the pie?” Lolly asks, busying herself with moving the food to the table. Markie and I join in. “It looks delicious.” She glances over her shoulder. “Must’ve been you because neither of these girls can cook and it looks homemade.”
“Hey,” I protest, but she’s right.
Hartley carries the chicken into the dining room. “Cathy made it for me. It’s my counter cake for the week—even though it’s a pie.”
“I forgot about counter cakes,” I say. “I used to love Cathy’s counter cakes.”
“What’s a counter cake?” Markie asks as we take our seats at the table.
“Cathy makes a cake or pie each week, and it gets left on the counter,” Hartley says. “Really, it’s any dessert. I just like a little piece of something after dinner, and then I’ll have a piece in the middle of the night every so often.”
His gaze flashes to mine, and I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.
“Okay,” Lolly says, placing a napkin on her lap and surveying the scene in front of us. “It looks like everything is here.”
“It looks great, Lolly,” Hartley says.
She smiles. “Thank you. Would you like to say grace?”
“Sure.”
His voice is low as he gives thanks for the meal and for those who prepared it and are sharing it. As he says this, his foot nudges mine beneath the table. I open my eyes, glancing up to see if he’s looking at me, to determine whether it was an accident or intentional, but he keeps his eyes shut.
I force a swallow, wait for the amen, and then bring up the pickle contest because that will get Lolly talking. And if she’s talking and everyone is paying attention to her, they will ignore me. And I can have a couple of moments to calm down.
Because if we’re talking, there’s less opportunity for everyone to hear the beating of my heart.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Hartley
I dry the last dish and place it in the cupboard. Lolly and the girls’ chatter from the living room drifts through the air, joining the late afternoon sun in warming the kitchen. They tried to stop me from doing the dishes, but I insisted. Partly, because Dad always said that just because you have a dick doesn’t mean you have to be one. If a woman cooks for you, your ass better be in the kitchen cleaning it up.