“He will. I’ll figure it out.”
“Not on your own, you won’t. I’ll help him figure out it’s in his best interest to leave you the hell alone.”
I yank back and spread my hands on his chest. “No, you won’t. Damon is not going to interfere with you or the distillery. He’s not going to be responsible for any bad rumors or gossip or whatever. Please don’t engage with him.”
“I’m not going to let him harass you.”
“Cruz, please. I just need to get through the weekend.”
“And after the weekend, you’ll let me help?” Energy ripples under his skin, like if I let go, he’ll bolt out the door and hunt Damon down.
I nod. Anything to make sure he doesn’t get caught in Damon’s snare. “Please. Promise me that you won’t get involved.”
He cups my chin and brushes his thumb across my lower lip. “I don’t make empty promises.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Elodie
The way my conversation ended last night with Cruz hangs over me like a rain cloud on an otherwise beautiful summer day. He didn’t placate me. He didn’t brush me off. His charm was gone and he was serious. I’ve been strung tight all day and flinching at shadows.
Someone grabs my elbow and I jump.
“Sorry!” Clem rips her hand off me. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No, it’s me, not you.” For all his many faults, Damon is smoother than grabbing someone. He’ll come back, act like a customer, hang around until I reach peak discomfort, then leave, letting me subtly know that he’ll be back. I shouldn’t be so skittish, but it’s not me I’m concerned about. “I didn’t sleep well.”
I had Cruz’s firm response to my begging playing on repeat in my head. He gave me a kiss and went to his place, like he knew that I’d keep on him until I got that fake promise I was demanding. It was for the best. I was too anxious from learningthat Damon had confronted Cruz using the same method he’s been using on me. What next? Dwayne starts writing Cruz letters too?
“Stressful weekend?” She crosses her arms and it crunches the pinwheel on her shirt.
I’ve got a different cupcake shirt on today and another long, loose skirt. “How’re the kids’ games?”
“Also stressful.” She flashes me a grin. “But empty right now. Seems to be a lull all around and I thought I’d come to say hi.”
“And refill the mini cookies for the kiddos?”
“For me.” She peruses my selections. “I’m loving the crossover with Foster House. The shortbread with gin-soaked raspberries is orgasmic.”
“I’ll write that on the description.”
“Your silent auction donation is up to a hundred and fifty bucks. That white chocolate cake is getting people in a choke hold.”
Cruz is probably driving up the price, and he’ll pay as much as it takes. I grin.
Clem rolls her eyes. “Your boyfriend is buying it? Ugh, that’s so sweet.”
Another wave of customers is making their way up the street. My breakfast of those very cookies curdles in my stomach. Is there a medium-height guy in the bunch who looks like he’s going to the golf course after?
If I lean over far enough, I might get a glimpse of the Foster House booth, but I’ll never see the guys through the throng of samplers. Their booth is one of the most popular, constantly surrounded by people, just like it was in Billings.
Nerves cartwheel around my stomach. That’s been happening all day.
Clem finds my container of minis and tucks it under her arm. “I should get back. Is Kinley helping out today?”
“She’s out getting a bite to eat. I traded again with the Huangs for some more sesame chicken. I wanted to stick around the booth, and they have their grandkids tomorrow and wanted some extra treats.”
Clem groans and holds her stomach. “I wish I could trade the library’s books for food. Actually, I’m just going to head there and bring a plate back with me.” She’s about to cut through my tables to weave between the back of the booths where most of the vendors walk, but she stops. “Are you okay? Is it just the sleep?”
