Mabel spots me first. Her eyes light up like Christmas morning. “Well, well. Look who’s up with the chickens.”
I consider turning around and walking right back out, but that would only make things worse. They do love a good chase. Instead, I paste on a smile and head for the coffee station. “Morning, ladies.”
“Morning, honey,” Pearl purrs, and I can hear the mischief in her voice. “Rough night?”
“No,” I say, refusing to play. “Just an early morning. Work and all.” I pour coffee into a to-go cup with hands that are steadier than I feel. “Lots to do today.”
She leans over and whispers into Dot’s ear, to which Dot bursts into laughter. I just narrow my eyes at them.
“I bet,” Dot says, and there’s a world of meaning in those two words. “Heard you had quite a run-in with a particularly grumpy bull.”
My hand freezes on the coffee pot. Of course they’ve heard too.
“No, all pretty standard stuff,” I say carefully.
“Standard,” Mabel repeats, like she’s tasting the word. “That’s not how I would describe the Dillon boy.”
I firmly ignore the way his name still fills me with want. Am I mad? Hell yes, but under the anger is a bucket of hurt. And not wanting him was never our problem.
I order my biscuits and gravy from Hattie Belle, who gives me a sympathetic look that suggests she knows exactly what I’m dealing with. While I wait, I do my best to ignore the three sets of eyes boring into my back.
“You know,” Pearl says conversationally, “I saw the prettiest thing yesterday. Beau McCrae, helping out at the arena. Such a nice young man. And single, too. He sure has been absent since moving to Muddy Creek.”
I turn so quickly and look at her that she laughs and slaps her knee. So he lives here? In Muddy Creek? Well, that’s… interesting?
I take a drink of the scalding coffee to stop myself from asking what they know and give a shout when I burn my lip. I need cream—I forgot to add it. And the virgin liquid was ten degrees hotter than I expected.
“Mmmm, if I wasn’t deeply in love with this old thing, I’d definitely be curious what he keeps in those pants,” Dot agrees theatrically as she wraps Pearl in a tight hug and presses a kiss to her cheek.
“Sorry, babe, but if Beau McCrae came and offered me what’s in his pants, I’d have to take him up on it,” Pearl deadpans.
I choke on the drink I had in my mouth, nearly spitting it out. There’s something very unsettling about hearing someone as old as your grandma talking about what’s in someone’s pants.
“Though with Jake Dillon back in town, this winter is bound to be a lot more interesting. Remember him, Willa? You two used to have a thing, right?”
My coffee cup vibrates slightly in my grip. “That was a long time ago.”
“And Charlie Holt,” Mabel adds nonchalantly, because apparently, we’re just going to list every man I ran into yesterday. “Heard he’s agreed to help that old codger Eli at the fairgrounds. Funny how these things happen, isn’t it?”
“Hilarious,” I mutter.
“You guys used to be thick as thieves, right?” Pearl says, all innocence. She knows. They all do. There wasn’t a single summer of my life that I wasn’t running wild with Charlie and Caleb.
He still smells like home.
Hattie Belle saves me by handing over my food, and I grab it like a lifeline. “Well, ladies, this has been lovely, but I really need to?—”
I turn toward the door and walk straight into a hard wall of muscle and warmth.
My coffee lid flies off, splashing coffee across the linoleum. My bag of food falls to the floor. The newspaper I’d tucked under my arm goes flying. And I, in all my grace and coordination, stumble backward and would definitely fall on my ass if large, strong hands didn’t catch me by the elbows.
“Whoa, easy there.”
That voice. Deep and rough and laced with amusement. Why…
I look up—and up, and up some more because Jesus Christ, he’s tall—into the face of Beau McCrae.
Of course it’s the Saint. Who else would be there?
