Honey looked. Sure enough, Emma was giggling, and the Fitch boy—tall and mop-haired—was looking at her like she hung the stars.
Ethan made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “Oh no he doesn’t,” he said, already angling toward them.
Honey stepped in quickly beside him. “You’d be better off leaving it alone. You’ll only embarrass the poor kids.”
“I’m just going to remind a certain boy that Emma has a father with a shovel and no problem digging deep holes.”
Honey snorted. “Subtle. But don’t we have a matter of goats to attend to? Let them have their young love.”
Ethan looked for a moment like he might charge toward them, but finally, he tore his eyes away from Emma. His fists stayed clenched at his sides. “If you’ll excuse us, Poppy, we’ve got to talk to Trent before judging starts.”
Poppy’s bushy eyebrows shot upward, and his mouth formed a little “o.” “Well then. Glad to see you two are speaking again. The frost has cracked on Mount Stubborn, I see.”
“Must be spring in August,” Ethan bit out.
“See you around, Ms. Baxter,” Poppy added as he turned and beelined for the judges like the gossip was a hot potato he couldn't wait to pass. Honey knew the gossip mill would be grinding by the time she took her next step.
They intercepted Trent on his way to the judges’ table, and the moment he caught their approach, he scowled.
“Trent,” Ethan said.
“Ethan.” His tone was flat, and he looked everywhere but at Ethan. “Where are my nieces?”
“With Marlene.”
Trent’s gaze slid to Honey. “And who’s your friend?”
“Honey Baxter, sir.” Honey stuck out her hand.
Trent gave her hand a long, suspicious glance but didn’t take it. “You shackin’ up with a fed?” His mouth curled like he’d just bitten into something sour. “Figures.”
Honey’s spine straightened a little.
She didn’t like Trent. Not just because of the rudeness, though that was certainly enough. It was the way he looked at Ethan like less than manure on his boots. Watching Ethan take it on the chin without flinching stirred something else entirely.
“Don’t start,” Ethan said, stepping between them. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”
“Lot of outsiders showin’ up lately. I don’t like outsiders.”
Honey tilted her head, keeping her voice calm and her expression pleasant. “Statistically, over 40% of rural communities rely on seasonal outsiders to sustain tourism-based revenue. Plus, I’m not a ‘fed’ as you say. I’m with the Bureau of Magical Compliance.”
He squinted at her. “I know your type.”
“Is that right?” Honey lifted her chin.
“This is what you people do,” Trent said. “Cozy up to people and take what’s not yours. My sister. My family’s legacy. What next, fed? Planning to marry into it too?”
Honey didn’t flinch. She calmly met his gaze head-on.
“I didn’t steal anything,” she said, voice clear and resonant. “But your sister should have known. If you don’t take care of the things you value, someone else will.”
Chapter 17
Ethan
Honey was nearly a head shorter than Trent, but that didn’t deter her at all. They were standing on the grass of the Town Green, surrounded by folding chairs and nosy neighbors who were definitely listening. As satisfying as it was to watch Trent’s face slowly redden like a sunburn, this wasn’t the place. In all likelihood, Honey would’ve won the verbal sparring match, but Ethan wanted the damn goats, and that meant keeping things civil.
“Listen, man,” Ethan said. “I’m not here to start trouble. I’m just in the market for some goats.”
