“Thank you. A cinnamon roll sounds fantastic.” Joely looked over at me, her eyes slightly narrowed. “Though Thatcher doesn’t look like he wants to share.”
“You don’t have to worry about Thatcher. He’s built like a grizzly bear, but just as sweet as a little koala, aren’t you?” Nellie even had the nerve to pat my back as she walked away.
“Have you ever held a koala?” Joely asked, her eyes full of innocent curiosity.
Pissed off that I’d been called “sweet,” I clenched my jaw. “No, but they’ve got claws and sharp teeth.”
She continued to pet the goat. “They can also carry chlamydia. It’s probably best to avoid them if you come across one in the wild.”
“I don’t have chlamydia,” I mumbled. The sooner I got rid of Joely, the better. She had an inexplicable unnerving effect on me, and I didn’t know how to handle myself around her. The more time I spent around her, the more I started forgetting why I wanted to be alone in the first place. “Do you want a cinnamon roll or not?”
“Wow. With an offer like that, how could I refuse? Got any hand sanitizer?”
I bent down and dug a bottle of hand sanitizer out of the bag Nellie left while I continued to cradle Fabio. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She pumped some into her palm and rubbed her hands together. “About that cinnamon roll…”
“Help yourself.” I nudged the box toward her, hoping she’d take a roll and leave. Instead, she picked up the one with the most frosting and sat down in the chair I’d abandoned.
“How long have you lived in Hard Timber?” Glancing up at me, she bit into the roll like we were two civilized people who were just having a normal conversation, maybe even friends. When I didn’t answer right away, she rolled her eyes. “Do you have something against me personally or are you this charming around everyone?”
“Hey, Uncle Thatcher!” My six-year-old nephew saved me from saying something I might regret.
“Hey, Lane. Where’s your dad?” I crouched down to give him a one-armed hugged, being careful not to squish Fabio while I looked around for my brother Holt.
“Over there.” Lane pointed to a tent a few booths over where his dad stood talking to the elementary school principal who also ran a side gig making all kinds of jerky. Then he turned his attention back to Joely, his forehead furrowed. “Who are you?”
She saved me from having to come up with something to say by introducing herself. Shifting her cinnamon roll to one hand, she held out the other for Lane to shake. “Hi, I’m Joely. It’s nice to meet you.”
Lane shook her hand and eyed her cinnamon roll. “Is that one of Miss Nellie’s?”
“Sure is. Do you want one?” Joely lifted the edge of the box and pushed it toward my nephew, offering him one of my rolls. They were going to be gone before I even got to taste one.
“Can I?” Lane looked up at me, already reaching for the box.
“As long as it’s okay with your dad.”
Holt walked up and put a hand on Lane’s shoulder. “What’s he trying to talk you into now?”
“A cinnamon roll, Dad. That’s Joely, and she said I could have one.” Lane pointed to Joely with one hand and grabbed hold of a cinnamon roll with the other.
“Use the hand sanitizer first.” I pushed it toward him. No telling what he’d been into already this morning. The kid spent most of his time digging around in the dirt, hoping to uncover a bunch of dinosaur bones. He was only six and already knew he wanted to be a paleontologist when he grew up.
Holt lifted a brow and tilted his head toward Joely, his way of asking me what the fuck was going on.
“Joely, this is my brother, Holt.” I wasn’t used to making introductions, but it was too awkward to just sit there and stare at each other. “He’s on the fire crew around here and manages the tower outside of town.”
She wiped the corner of her lip with a napkin and gave Holt a smile that should have knocked the socks right off a regular guy. But Holt had made that fucking list as well. I couldn’t remember the nickname they gave him, but he hadn’t looked twice at a woman since Lane’s mom walked out on him.
“Nice to meet you.” With his hand still on Lane’s shoulder, he turned his son to face me. “What do you say to Uncle Thatcher?”
“Thanks for the cinnamon roll.” With a mouth full of his first bite, Lane pointed to the lump under my shirt. “What’s that?”
“This is Fabio.” I pulled the skunk away from my body and held him out so Lane could see.
As soon as I did, the PA system set up in front of the courthouse let out a screech so high-pitched it could have made someone’s ears bleed. Fabio hissed, lifted his tail, and a stream of foul-smelling, eye-burning liquid shot out of his butt and onto my sleeve. That would have been bad enough, but I shifted as the spray hit, sending it past me and directly onto Joely.
I froze as she jumped out of the chair. Fabio flip-flopped in my arms, landing on the pavement and breaking into a dead run down the middle of Main Street.
