“I was just going to change clothes.”
“Oh? So I guess you heard Zoey’s coming to dinner.”
He paused and considered his mom. “What makes you think I care if Zoey comes?” She couldn’t have heard about their kiss on the dance floor last night … could she? He rolled his eyes at his own naivety. In a town as small as Harvest Ranch, where everyone knew the names of everyone else’s labradoodle, his mom had probably heard about the kiss before he’d pulled up the driveway.
“A man doesn’t plow up an arena for just anyone,” she countered.
Okay, so maybe she hadn’t heard about the kiss, but this was just as bad. “I did it for the lemon bars.” He made a show of pointing to the row of chocolate chocolate-chip cupcakes she’d made.
Mom snorted. “You’re so cute if you think that.” She patted his cheek like he was a five year old who believed the Great Pumpkin would show up on Halloween. “I sure like her, Hunter. Zoey is a good person, and she was so sweet to get me that facial.” This time, Mom patted her own cheek.
Hunter grinned, thinking of Zoey’s elaborate plan to get him to plow her arena. She was a mastermind and had made just about everyone happy that day—everyone but Brandon. Hopefully he’d recovered from his clam-tastic experience at the cooking contest. “I like her, but I’m taking it slow.” He leaned over and kissed his mom’s cheek.
She huffed. “Why do all my children want to take it slow? First Swayzie and now you.”
Hunter paused, gathering his courage before jumping into the deep end of the disagreement between his mom and sister. It could be like jumping into a pond full of crocodiles. “About Swayzie …”
“Yes?” Her voice was shrill, like she’d worn it out discussing his sister—although it was probably more her patience that was worn thin. Telling her to back off would only hurt her feelings. There had to be something he could say that would get through to her.
“I think she’s smart to spend this time single.”
“You do?”
“Yeah—when she finally marries Lucky, she’ll do it knowing she didn’t leave anything on the table. No regret. No second thoughts. Just peace.” He reached for a carrot. “Like you had with Dad.”
Mom focused on peeling a cucumber. “That’s different. I knew your dad my whole life through. We’d promised ourselves when we were just sixteen.”
“And you grew up before you tied the knot.”
She laughed. “Well, I did. Your dad is still a kid in so many ways.” She blew a piece of hair off her forehead. “Him and his new smoker. It’s just a toy built for a grown man.”
Hunter laughed. “Sure smells good, though.”
She grinned. “Saves me from making the roasts, so I’m not saying another word.”
Hunter nodded before turning to go up the stairs. Now that he knew Zoey was coming, he wanted to shower.
“Hunter?” Mom called just before he hit the door. “Wear your Sunday hat—the gray looks good on you.”
He grinned. “I plan on it.”
Mom’s eyes gleamed. “Maybe I’ll be planning two weddings this spring …”
“Keep dreaming, Mom.” He ducked out before the joy of that idea showed on his face. Her happy laughter followed him. It hadn't skipped his attention that she’d said thisspring. Maybe she had decided to pull back on pushing Swayzie to the altar. That would be a good thing.
He showered in record time and found himself standing in front of the hat hooks on his wall. There was one for each hat. The hooks themselves were removable, so he didn’t have to stare at an empty hook on the wall if he was between hats for an occasion. He reached for the gray felt hat—the one he wore to church every week. But his hand hovered and then dropped. This might be a good time to try on the chocolate-brown hat he’d been saving. He’d bought the hat a year ago, thinking he’d work it into the rotation somewhere—the price was too good to pass up, and the man shaping hats that day was a legend.
He carefully lifted the box off the top shelf in his closet. Lifting the lid, he set it quickly aside and then removed the tissue paper with care. He put the hat on his head and checked his image in the mirror. The brown went nicely with the stripe in his plaid shirt. Yep, that’d do.
Did he look like he was trying too hard? Maybe. But he needed the boost in confidence that wearing a new hat gave him.
Zoey’s laughter hit him as he was coming down the stairs fifteen minutes later, freshly showered. That sound was like melted butter on corn—sweet, yummy, and oh so satisfying.
She was out in the yard, setting a large bowl of Jell-O salad on the buffet table and talking to his cousin Leanne. She and Dean, the new security guard at the festival—who was doing a decent job of things, as far as he’d heard—were twins. Allie stepped in, saying something about a twin bond, and they laughed easily together.
He watched Zoey through the screen door for a moment, struck by her graceful movements and the gentle slope of her neck. She’d smelled like expensive perfume last night—the scent lingering on his shirt. He’d noticed when he went to pull it over his head and been knocked back, having to sit on his bed before he fell over with the memory.
He stood there so long, he started to wonder if he was chicken. This was the moment, the one where he would know if Zoey would friend-zone him or if she was interested in more. He wanted to prolong the agony, really feel the way his heart rose with hope and his mind worried with doubts. Not that the doubting part was a great experience, but the hope was worth the weight on the other side of the scale. Maybe this was what Swayzie was feeling about the wedding.
