I set the salad bowl on the counter next to the sink and reached up to put the steak seasoning on the top shelf. This kitchen had been designed by my dad’s side of the family—the ones who’d been blessed with height and long arms. I wasn’t vertically challenged, but I still had trouble reaching the top shelf.
“Need some help with that?” Thorne took the bottle of spices and easily slid it onto the top shelf. His arm reached overhead, pretty much trapping me against the cabinet. A clump of suds that clung to his hand dropped onto my hair and slid down my forehead. “Oh, hell. I’m sorry.”
He tried to wipe them away, but only spread them around. I laughed out loud at the way his brows furrowed. “It’s okay. Let me just grab a paper towel.”
“Here.” He reached behind me for the roll but knocked it over. Both of his arms stretched around me, holding me in an awkward hug while he grappled to rip a sheet from the roll.
Being held in an almost-embrace pebbled my flesh. This close, I could see the promise of a five o’clock shadow, feel his warm breath on my cheek, and smell the intoxicating mix of his cologne or aftershave or heck—maybe just his fresh-from-the-shower signature scent.
Needing to add some levity to the moment, I swiped a clump of bubbles from the sink and plopped it in the center of his forehead. “Now we’re even.”
He blinked, stunned. Then he scooped up an even bigger blob and set it on top of my head. “You really want to go there?”
I had no intention of telling him exactly how far I wanted to go with him. Instead, I ducked out of his loose embrace and raced to the opposite side of the kitchen island.
Thorne loaded his cupped hands with bubbles just as my phone rang on the counter in front of me. A quick look at the screen showed the name of the owner of the café. Taffy had to be up before the crack of dawn to get started on the homemade biscuits she served each morning. For her to be calling after nine o’clock, something had to be wrong.
The bubbles sailed through the air and smacked into the side of my face as I lifted the phone to my ear. “Hey, Taff. Is everything okay?”
Thorne’s contagious grin slipped away. He grabbed the dish towel from its hook and handed it to me.
“Oh, honey. I’ve got bad news. Real bad.” The older woman’s voice shook.
“What is it?” I perched half on, half off the barstool while I wiped the suds from my face. Taffy wasn’t one to make a big deal out of nothing. She was as down to earth as they came, which meant whatever had her scared enough to call me after her bedtime had to have her shaking in her cozy hand-crocheted slipper socks.
“The company that’s been trying to buy you out has sunk to a whole new level. They’re planning a huge concert tomorrow night featuring Shattered Souls. Can you believe it? I know they’re only trying to draw folks away from the bluebonnet festival, but the nerve of some people. Why, I’d like to wrap my hands around that lawyer’s neck and show him what happens when someone crosses one of our own.”
All the hope I’d been holding inside my chest escaped like air whooshing out of an old balloon. Deflated, I looked up to see Thorne studying me. Worry lines bisected his forehead. He didn’t need to see me break down. I turned my back to him and stepped into the living room, hoping he wouldn’t follow.
“Where did you hear that?” Maybe Taffy was confused. In my heart, I knew Mr. Dartman had screwed me over, but I held out hope that somehow she’d heard wrong.
“It’s all over the social media. And get this… it’s the worst part… tickets are free.” She let out a defeated sigh that stretched on forever. “What are you going to do, honey?”
I paused, waiting for inspiration to strike. Nothing happened.
“Destiny? You still there?”
“I’m here. I just don’t have an answer.” Victory had seemed so sure, so definite, that I hadn’t seriously considered what might happen if they sabotaged the whole festival. “I need some time to think. Can I give you a call in the morning?”
Taffy clucked her tongue. “Of course. You just say the word and I’ll spread it around for you. Everyone wants to see you succeed.”
Everyone except Mr. Dartman and whoever he represented. He’d held those cards pretty close to his chest.
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” I disconnected the call and let my arms fall limply to my sides. It couldn’t end like this.
Thorne’s hands skimmed over my upper arms. “Everything okay?”
I’d been strong. Since Mom passed a few years ago from cancer, then Dad died from a broken heart, and Mike left to take that job, I’d been managing everything on my own. I’d done a hell of a good job, too. But having to stay strong and being all on my own had taken a toll. Local folks like Taffy had done what they could to help, but there’d been no one to really lean on. No one looking out for me or propping me back up again when plan after plan failed to deliver.
The temptation to sink into Thorne’s strong arms almost had me turning around and burying my cheek against his chiseled chest. Instead, I wiped a few tears away that had escaped my lower lids and pasted on a shaky smile.
“That asshole Dartman just announced a free concert tomorrow night. He’s bringing in Shattered Souls to play on the other side of town. I can’t compete with that. Looks like opening night of the festival might be a bust.” I attempted a nonchalant shrug that felt more like the first sign of an impending seizure.
“Come here.” Thorne held out his arms.
I was tempted to take the comfort he offered, but I couldn’t afford to entertain any weakness. Once I let doubt creep in, it would set up shop and tear me apart from the inside out.
“I’ll be okay,” I said as I turned away. “I just need to make sure the rest of the weekend is a huge success or figure out a way to keep that concert from happening.”
