“Oh, honey.” Stone laughs. “I’ve seen less heat between actual flames.”
Nikko leans forward. “I thought Sylvie was going to force you both into a timeout. The tension was thick enough to scoop with one of her serving spoons.”
“Can we not do this?” The words come out sharper than intended, but they just exchange amused glances.
“Do what?” Stone asks innocently. “Discuss the obvious sparks flying between you and a certain incredibly attractive orchard owner? The way you practically stopped breathing when he reached across you for the green beans?”
My fingers tighten around my glass. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I imagining how you couldn’t take your eyes off him?” Nikko joins in, his smile growing. “Because I distinctly remember you missing your mouth with your fork.”
“Like I said, there were no looks, and the fork thing did not happen.”
“Oh, honey.” Stone laughs. “We’re not just talking about the looks. We’re talking about the way you two practically combusted when Finn brought up the Christmas Festival. I thought the table was going to catch fire.”
Finn leans forward, grinning, like he knows something I don’t know. “You looked ready to either strangle him or?—”
“Don’t,” I warn, but Stone’s already laughing.
“Or drag him somewhere private and work out all that aggression,” Stone finishes, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you weren’t thinking about it.”
My fingers tighten around my glass. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I imagining how you couldn’t stop staring at him when he was agreeing with Finn just to piss you off?” Nikko joins in, his smile growing.
“He wasn’t…doing that,” I say, but there’s no heat in it.
“All that fire has to go somewhere,” Stone drawls, leaning back in his chair. “And I’m betting angry sex with Taylen Howard would be absolutely explosive.”
“Jesus, Stone.” I think I need something stronger than my current drink. “We barely tolerate each other. He’s made it pretty clear how he feels about me being back.”
Nikko raises an eyebrow. “Is that why he couldn’t stop watching you during dinner? Because he barely tolerates you?”
“Can we talk about literally anything else?”
A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, and I look up to find Mik standing up. “Come on,” he says quietly. “Let’s get some air.”
I follow him to the bar, grateful for the escape. Mik signals Joe for fresh drinks, and moments later, two whiskey glasses appear in front of us. We take the drinks and step outside. It’s too cold, but a sip of the drink soon sorts that out.
“You know they mean well,” Mik says finally, turning his glass slowly between his hands. “They just want you to be happy.”
I stare into my own drink. “I am happy. The farm is doing well. The transition is going smoothly?—”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Mik’s voice is gentle but firm. “I watch you, Bastian. I see how you light up when he’s around, even when you’re arguing.Especiallywhen you’re arguing.”
“It’s complicated,” I mutter, but the words feel inadequate to describe the tangle of emotions that surface whenever Taylen is near.
“It always is.” Mik takes a slow sip of his whiskey. “You know, I almost lost Tyler because I was too scared to bring him into our world. Too afraid of what might happen if I reached for something real.”
I glance at him, knowing exactly how much they fought to be together. Twenty-five years apart and so much personal loss before they found each other again. Mik and Tyler have the kind of love that songs are written about, and I can’t help but feel a little jealous.
The whiskey burns going down, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that blooms in my chest when I think about Taylen.
“I don’t know how to handle this,” I admit quietly. “Every time I think I have a grip on my feelings, he does or says something that throws me completely off balance. And there’s so much history, so many complications…”
“There always are.” Mik’s hand finds my shoulder again, squeezing gently. “But sometimes the complicated things are worth fighting for. Sometimes they’re the only things worth fighting for.”
I close my eyes, letting his words sink in. “I’ll think about it.”
