“Forty-five minutes washing you!”
Rita bleats happily and continues rolling.
“Your goat’s broken,” I tell Callie.
“My goat’s perfect,” she sniffs, smiling. “She’s just particular about her beauty routine.”
“Her beauty routine involves smelling like death and being covered in mud?”
“Everyone has their process.”
We sit on the bank, letting the sun dry us off while Rita grazes nearby, occasionally looking around to make sure we’re still there. Callie’s leaning against my shoulder, wet hair dripping on my arm, and there’s something about the moment that feels… important.
“Thanks,” she says quietly.
“For what?”
“For helping with Rita. You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, we did,” Boone says from where he’s sprawled on the grass. “That’s what you do when you?—”
He stops himself.
“When you what?” Callie asks.
“When you’re neighbors,” Wyatt finishes smoothly.
“Right,” Callie says. “Neighbors.”
But she threads her fingers through mine and squeezes once before letting go.
The Cedar RidgeCommunity Center is packed for the annual charity pie auction, which is about as exciting as it sounds. Everyone who’s anyone in town has shown up, mostly to gossip and watch Mrs. Patterson try to sell her infamous raisin pie that nobody wants but someone always buys out of pity.
Callie’s standing at the registration table, holding a pie like it might explode. She’s wearing a sundress that makes her legs look incredible, and I’m trying very hard not to stare. It’s not working.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she hisses.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re planning something.”
“I’m always planning something.”
“That’s what worries me.”
She sets her pie on the table with the others, a little card in front reading “Apple Crumb, Callie Thompson.” Her hands are shaking slightly.
“Nervous?” I ask.
“Why would I be nervous? It’s just the entire town watching me auction off a pie while they whisper about my recent activities with certain cowboys.”
“Recent activities?” I grin. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
“We’re calling it nothing. We’re especially not calling it anything near Mrs. Delaney.”
Too late. Mrs. Delaney’s already approaching, phone in hand, that gleam in her eye that means she’s about to make our lives harder.
“Callie! Jesse! How wonderful to see you both here.Together. At the same event. Standing very close to each other.”
