The man is arresting, and I don’t need more men and arrests in my life.
“What can I grab?” He peers through the back window.
Why is he so relentless? “I’ve got it.”
“I’m here. Use me.” He holds his arms out to the sides, snugging his shirt to his torso. Ranching and distilling do a body good.
I’d use him so hard.
Nope! I have ninety-nine problems and a guy is very much one. I don’t need to round it out to an even hundred. “You can get the tote with the samples of my fair items.”
I back all the way up to let him into the back seat. He bends over and my attention goes right to his ass. So damn firm I could bounce a quarter off it.
“You need this other bag?” he asks, his voice muffled.
My crochet supplies that never left the car after the last monthly crochet club. “Yes, but I can get that.”
He backs out and hip checks the door shut. “It’s no problem.”
It’s a huge problem. The way he’s holding his arms, a little out to the side with his biceps bulging, and his stance? With that tight shirt and cowboy boots? It’s obscene.
I want to climb his tall body like I’m a kitten and he’s both the tree and the fireman who’ll save me. I have to look away before the image in my head becomes two naked humans. “Thanks.”
He beams like he’s pleased that he finally gets to help me. That’s worse. He tips his head toward the building. “Ladies first.”
I start walking and he falls in step beside me. I have nothing to do with my hands since he’s carrying everything. I have on loose gray linen pants and an oversized Montana shirt I got at the gas station.
“Everyone’s here already.” Does the silence bother him, or is he always this chatty? “You’re not late though. Durban’s running drinks. Campbell’s here, of course.”
I never tire of seeing Durban Hennessy and Campbell Hawthorne together, or Durban’s brother, Iverson, and Campbell’s sister Jamison. Those couples are real. The love in the guys’ eyes is real. They’ve been nothing but trustworthy and upstanding citizens in the community. I knew of the three Hennessy brothers before they bought into the distillery, and before the two oldest fell for the oldest and youngest Hawthorne sisters from the guest ranch outside of town. None of the gossip about them was scandalous. It was barely salacious, and that’s because all the Hennessys have the same effect on women as Cruz. Lane’s the same.
I just notice Cruz more than anyone else.
“You excited to crochet?” he asks.
He’s always trying to make small talk, and the less I speak to him, the harder he tries. I can’t succumb. “I’m sure crochet is boring for you.”
“Nah, it’s cool to see everything you guys make. Edna was showing me the blanket she’s making for a silent auction at the fair next month.”
“I’m putting together a package for that.” I bite the inside of my cheek. No good will come from making conversation with Cruz. I’ll just want more, and I know his type. Charming flirt. Skin deep. Even if I could trust a guy again, it’s a bad time to date.
“I can’t wait to see it. You do that white chocolate cake, and it’ll bring in a hundred bucks. At least.”
My insides get all warm and gooey. That flavor is my favorite for a cake. “I’m actually putting together a baking basket. It’ll have all the utensils, ingredients, and instructions.”
“That’s a great idea. It’s going to get a big bid.”
“You think so?” I’ve been a little insecure about it.
He smiles at me. “One hundred percent sure.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. More boastful promises.
When we’re inside the tasting room, all the women shout greetings. My smile pokes through, but I still want to hide behind Cruz’s big body. I don’t like having attention on me.
Edna waves. “Now it’s a party.”
My sister is sitting at a table next to Edna and four of her friends, who are all past retirement age, along with one of their grandsons who’s home from college. Clem’s hair is dark like mine, but she’s got hers down today. The tasting room is cool. Must be why she has the green gradient shawl she crocheted over her shoulders. Campbell is poring over an instruction pamphlet for some project, her long chestnut braid hanging over her shoulder. I wistfully admire her athletic shorts. Why didn’t I throw a pair of shorts on? I’ve gotten too used to dressing like this. My linen pants today are very sweats adjacent.
