Ruby tilted her head. "Does that mean you're okay with letting the plans move forward?"
"I can't say for sure yet. I'll need to look into it now that I'm back."
I'd never seen someone stand up to Ruby like that. Most folks caved the second they got caught up in her stare. I leaned back in my chair and felt a little guilty about how much I was enjoying myself.
Ruby let out an unsatisfied hmpf, then finally left us alone.
I leaned forward. "That was satisfying."
"What?" Claire cut a piece of roll with the side of her fork and speared it. "Watching Ruby interrogate me?"
"No. Watching you not back down."
"You make it sound like we're fighting." Her lips parted and she slid the bite of cinnamon roll into her mouth.
My cock twitched as she pulled the fork free and let out a soft groan. I dragged my gaze back to my plate. Watching Claire Hollister eat a damn cinnamon roll shouldn’t feel like the most distracting thing I’d done all week… but without a doubt, it was.
"You were right about these rolls. This is delicious."
I smiled. Having her tell me I was right about something shouldn't mean a damn thing, but it did. Even though she'd been a couple of years behind me in school, I'd noticed her back then. Hell, I more than noticed her. I crushed on her hard for years. But she'd never looked at me. Why would she? She was a Hollister, practically Mustang Mountain royalty. And I was just a kid trying to survive high school without drawing any attention.
"Aren't you going to eat yours?" she asked.
"Yeah." I stopped staring at her and dug into my own roll.
After a few minutes of small talk, Claire pushed back her chair and stood. "Excuse me for a minute. I'll be right back."
I watched her walk toward the restroom at the opposite corner, then forced myself to look away before anyone noticed. The last thing either of us needed was to add any fuel to the gossip fire.
I lifted my mug and took a long drink. Movement caught my eye. An older woman at a table near the wall watched me with a steady gaze I recognized. Helen Davis. She'd been friends with Claire’s Aunt Lois for decades, one of the few people in town who seemed to move between the old family lines without drawing blood.
She stood and crossed the space between us with slow, deliberate steps. Her hand rested on the back of Claire's empty chair.
"Your mama raised you to keep the peace." Her voice came out low and even.
I set down my mug. "Yes, ma'am."
"Some things were settled kindly." She paused, her fingers tightening on the chair back. "Don't let them turn cruel."
Before I could respond, she turned and walked toward the front door. I watched her leave, the bell above the entrance ringing in her wake.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
My gut twisted. Helen Davis didn't waste words. If she'd taken the time to come over here and say something like that, it meant she knew something. Or suspected something. Either way, it wasn't good.
I'd spent my entire career as a deputy learning to read the space between what people said and what they meant. But this? This felt like a warning wrapped in courtesy, the kind of thing that happened in a town where everyone knew everyone else's history going back three generations.
Some things were settled kindly.
That could mean a dozen different things. Land deals. Family disputes. The feud itself, maybe, though nothing about the Hollister-Kincaid mess had ever been settled, kindly or otherwise.
I picked up my fork and stabbed at the cinnamon roll, but my appetite had vanished.
Claire came back and glanced at my plate as she took her seat. "You okay? You look like you just got bad news."
"I'm fine." I forced myself to take another bite.
She didn't push, just reached for her own fork and finished off the last of her roll.
