The first stop is on the edge of town, and I flush as I realize it’s a delivery of sweet cherries – Otley’s signature scent. The Krusty Kob Bakery is famous for its pies, and even though they’re now big enough to buy from the large commercial farms, they still take as much produce as we can give them. Sarah, a third-generation baker, comes out to greet us when she sees my truck pull up, her apron speckled with flour, and her cheeks rosy from the ovens. She gives me a cheerful wave, but her eyes grow wide as she spies Otley hefting a box of cherries out of the back of the truck.
“Has Christmas come early?” she purrs in my ear as I give her a one-armed hug, careful not to transfer flower sap and soil smears onto her apron.
“Hey, Sarah.” I ignore her teasing question. “How’s business?”
“Hectic, just like yours.” Her brows shoot into her hairnet as she watches Otley carry the box to her back door. “Looks like your help ad has paid off nicely, though.”
“He’s the new owner of Willow Manor,” I say abruptly. Sarah is a lot more charming than I am, her smile lighting up her face as she extends her hand in Otley’s direction. “Otley James, this is Sarah Bukanen. Her bakery has won more awards than any other in the state.”
Otley gives her a polished smile, but Sarah’s eyes sparkle mischievously. “Oh. I thought the delicious aroma was from that box you were carrying, but I think it’s all you.” She breathes in deeply, her twinkling gaze sliding my way. “Did you know Lily’s addicted to my sweet cherry pies? I make her a special one forher birthday every year, and she guards it like Bloomer with an extra juicy bone.”
“Thanks, Sarah,” I mutter, pushing the delivery note under her nose and scowling as she signs it. But she isn’t done torturing me yet. “I hope you’re still going to host book club on Sunday.”
I groan, tugging on the end of my bandana, which has bumblebees printed all over it. They’re way too cheerful for how I’m feeling right now. “You sure it’s not your turn?” I hedge.
“No way. And Rowan asked if we could take the Airstream out to the lake again. Just to get us all in the mood.” I shoot her dagger eyes, but she gives Otley a sweet smile. “Although, I s’pose I should be askingyou, since the lake is technically in your domain.”
“Willow Lake?” He tucks his thumbs in his jeans’ pockets, but he looks curiously between us. “Is it a regular gathering spot for the town?”
“Not exactly,” Sarah replies, nudging me in the ribs. “In fact, it’s only when thingsreallyheat up that Lily heads out there…”
Ugh. Our friendly baker is about as subtle as a rolling pin to the head.
“We’ll be meeting in the barn!” I growl, trying to will the color out of my flaming cheeks. “It’s a cowboy romance, right?”
“Yep. With a tall, dark rancher who can’t keep his hands off his sweet little omega.” She tosses Otley another smirking glance. “What do you think, Mr. James? Does that sound like a story that you could sink your teeth into?”
Otley raises his brows at me, but I just shake my head and stomp back to my truck. “I can smell your pies burning, Sarah.”
“Yee-haw!” she cackles, unfazed by my mood. “Can’t wait for Sunday, babe!”
She’s still chuckling as I screech away from the curb – or with as much gas as the old truck can manage. Otley doesn’t commenton the ridiculous conversation, and I think I’ve escaped with my sanity intact until we pull up outside City Hall. Before I can climb out, his fingers snare my wrist. “You know, you can visit the lake anytime you want, Lily. We only bought the house to be close to you.”
I stare at him in stunned silence for a moment, before I remind myself what really drew him all the way from California to rural Idaho.
“You mean Leo,” I choke out, tugging on my arm. “You’re here forhim, Otley, so don’t try to sugarcoat your motives.”
I leap out of the cab before he can respond, waving him back when he tries to take the flower arrangement out of my arms. It’s a quick stop at the reception desk inside, then I’m striding back to the curb, my eyes narrowing at the sight of three of Knotty Falls’ biggest gossips – and most attractive omegas – huddled around Otley as he leans against the side of my truck.
Madeline, Fern, and Paige were The Terrible Trio when we were in high school. A year ahead of me, they were the wealthy, popular girls the rest of us envied from afar. Catching their attention was dangerous, especially because they sneered at anyone who couldn’t afford the latest fashions or was clueless about celebrity gossip. By my sophomore year, they’d nicknamed me Dirty Percy because I was always turning up to class with soil under my fingernails, or smudges on my clothes from my morning chores. But they really took notice when I was named June Bloom Queen right after graduation. The snide comments sharpened into outright hostility, and I overheard Madeline telling the others that the judging panel liked to alternate between a true beauty queen one year and a pity vote the next. Madeline, of course, had been crowned the year before me, which made me the brunt of a lot of their scorn when my name was announced. But any sense of rivalry disappeared the moment it became public knowledge that I was pregnant.Unmated, with Logan forced into the role of part-time parent, it wasn’t long before my social standing with the terrible three reverted from minor rival to major reject.
“Lily!” Madeline props her hand on her slender hip, showing off the sleek, expensive lines of her mint-green sundress. “Otley was just telling us he bought Willow Manor!” She looks me over, her fake smile taking on a jeering edge. “Since you’re busy working up a sweat, the girls and I would be happy to take him off your hands and show him around town.”
My heart sinks, and I curse my stupid tongue for telling Otley to find himself another tour guide. He’s watching me from behind his mirrored shades, but he looks perfectly relaxed as the three girls drool all over him, and it’s not difficult to picture him sitting in Madeline’s fancy convertible, her manicured hand sneaking onto his thigh… “He’sworking, Madeline,” I say in my chilliest voice. “I know that concept is new to you, but I need him focused, so save your flirting for after-hours.”
I could bite my tongue for adding that last bit. Going up against these three is never fun, but Fern is staring at me with wide, aquamarine eyes that match her silk sheath dress. “He’sworking? Withyou? AtRosie’s place?”
Fern goes through life permanently surprised, but she doesn’t need to soundthatastonished. “It’s my place now, Fern,” I tell her as I drop the empty bucket into the truck bed. “But yes, Otley’s helping out for a couple of weeks.”
Paige, who’s always reminded me of a Rottweiler-poodle mix, tears her gaze off Otley’s muscular forearm long enough to ask, “Why? I mean, you’re wearing a Patek Phillippe watch. Why would you be working with Dirty Percy?”
I don’t know why I react. Maybe it’s because the three omegas look like a bouquet of flowers in their summer dresses, while I look like the bottom of the bucket after a long day in the fields. Or maybe it’s because my old nickname makes Otley’s head whipin my direction, his mouth pulling into a thin, sour line. “He’s studying horticulture,” I say abruptly. “That’s why he’s here. A summer internship.”
Blame my creativity on my stupid, bruised pride.
I grip the edge of the tray bed, waiting for Otley to give a mocking chuckle, but his shoulders relax, a tiny quirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.
“Horticulture?” Fern’s high-pitched voice gets tangled on the last two syllables. “But Rosie’s place isn’t a riding school anymore. Why would he be interning with you when you don’t have any horses?”
