A horn honked, and he turned to see his cousin’s truck crawling along beside him. “You lost?” Wyatt called through the open window.
“Lost in thought.” Judd stepped off the curb and up to the truck, resting his forearms on the door. Traffic was light this early on a weekday, and no one waited for Wyatt to move on down the street. “Where you headed this morning?”
“I just dropped Jaydon off at school. Can I buy you a coffee?”
The invitation from his favorite rival cousin was a surprise. But,, but Judd wasn’t one to hold a grudge—especially against family. “It’s the least you can do after you stole my trophy.”
Wyatt laughed, but the joy of winning didn’t reach all the way to his eyes. Something covered him like a blanket, a shadow that wouldn’t brush away with a new topic of conversation. “I’ll park and be right in.”
Judd turned around to see he was in front of Choco-Latte. Maybe while he was here, he’d get a few of those orange truffles for Wynn. “I’ll see you inside.”
Judd stepped through the door, setting off the bell. The sound was like coming home.
“Look what the chocolate brought in.” Aunt Michelle grinned from behind the glass display case. “I haven’t seen you in a while, sweetie. How are things?”
A sense that all was right with the world filled Judd, and he lifted his chest. “Things are going great.” He crossed the scuffed though shiny wood floor. One of these days they’d need to replace it, but Michelle always said that classics never went out of style—they just became well loved.
You could say that about the whole of Choco-Latte.The outside resembled a small Swiss home, with local stone used as a wainscot and small windows framed by green shutters with tulips cut into them. The town settlers named the place Harvest Ranch because they fancied themselves American cowboys, but they scoffed at log cabins and built houses that made them feel like they were home. With a mountain full of stone, it wasn’t hard to find building material. Some of the businesses covered up the look with Sheetrock inside. Choco-Lattewas old school, with rough-hewn walls and thick support beams. The smell of fresh coffee brought in customers from three blocks away.
Wyatt pushed through the door and glanced around for Judd. He smiled at Michelle. “Got anything that will kick my butt in gear this morning?”
Michelle went to work, gathering a to-go cup and pouring some of her specialty brew. “Rough night?”
Wyatt clamped his lips shut. That same look of despair that Judd had seen at the pumpkin judging returned. “You can say that.”
“Here, hon.” She set the cup on the counter. “What about you?”
Judd scratched his chin. “I’ve already had my coffee, but I’d take one of your pumpkin cocoas.”
Her smile stretched across the room. “I’m so glad you like ’em. Sometimes I think things are going to work out, and they flop.” She mixed and poured like a chemist, adding a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon sugar before putting on the to-go lid.
“Not this one.” Judd accepted his treat. “This one will be a keeper.”
“The tourists like it. I can tell you that.” She winked and then looked over his shoulder as a customer came through the door.
Wyatt dropped a bill on the counter, and they headed for a table off to the right. The windows on the front of the building were small, but the ones on this side, which overlooked a small courtyard, were big and inviting. They sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping their drinks. Wyatt stewed like he had a burr in his boot, but he wasn’t eager to share it.
“What’s on your mind?” Judd resisted checking his watch. If Wyatt was struggling at home, Judd didn’t want to make him feel rushed to talk about it. Like any red-blooded man, he didn’t think they needed to talk about it at all.
Wyatt stared at the table. “I’m wondering what’s going on with you and Wynn.”
Heaping piles of guilt appeared in Judd’s view. No one could know what had happened last night. Unless … Well, there was always the possibility that someone had seen or heard something despite the fact that they stood behind the tarp they’d hung. If there was one thing Judd knew about Wyatt, it was that he wouldn’t reveal the ace up his sleeve this early in the conversation. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you guys are always together. You live next door, and I see your truck in her driveway more than in your own. I just—” He ran his hand down his face. “Are you moving in on Thatcher’s girl?”
“What? No!” Judd leaned back in his seat—as far away from Wyatt and his accusations as possible. “Nothing like that.”
“Those kids look at you like you’re their daddy.”
“They need someone.”
Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t know. It feels like you’re breaking the bro code.”
Judd stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor and drawing attention from the customers now streaming in. Must be about nine o’clock. He took a deep breath and consciously used a calm voice. “I would never do anything to dishonor Thatcher’s memory.”
Wyatt glared up at him. “What about fall in love with his wife?”
Judd sputtered. “I’m not in love with her.”
