Not rushed.
Not desperate.
And it’s not a minute too soon.
My parents arrive tomorrow.
Thea and Marcus McCrae—otherwise known as Nana and Pop—are driving up from North Carolina for the wedding.
They were over the moon when I told them I was getting married again.
J.T.already had quite the successful business when my father retired and gave the mill to Thatch and me.
So, yeah, they know each other.And no, J.T.is not my dad’s age.
He’s older than I am—by thirteen years.
Thirteen.Not thirty.Not ancient.
But enough, apparently, to give people something to whisper about when they think I’m not listening.
And they are whispering.At the mill.In town.At the damn post office.
Ever since J.T.and I went from whatever we were to whatever this is.Dating just feels too light a word.Engaged feels too fast.Marrying-the-man-who-growls-my-name-like-it’s-a prayer feels closer to the truth.
A few of the guys at the sawmill have been giving me a wide berth all week.Men who I’ve worked alongside for years.Men who’ve seen me in steel-toed boots and safety goggles, hair in a bun, grease on my hands, barking orders about inventory and delivery schedules.
Men who’ve never once hesitated to argue lumber pricing with me over old coffee.Now?They go quiet when I walk into the Lunchroom.
Conversations stall.Eyes flick away.It’s subtle.But it’s there.
When I finally asked if something was wrong, only Arthur had the guts to answer me.
“Is it true you’re dating J.T.Lawrence, Kelly?”
He didn’t say it unkindly.Just careful.
I nodded.“Yeah.”
He scratched at his beard like he wished he hadn’t asked.
“Well.Most people are scared shit of J.T.I guess they don’t know how to treat you now.”
I laughed.I couldn’t help it.“I’m the same as I always was.”
“Sure you are,” he said.“Just got a Pitbull in your corner now.”
A Pitbull.
That’s what they see.
Power.Money.Influence.
A man who builds half the developments in three counties and has the kind of legal team that makes people sweat.
They don’t see the way he makes my tea exactly how I like it.The way he moves my son’s backpack out of the way so Evan doesn’t trip when he drops it on the floor after school.
They don’t know the way he listens to me.God, he listens.And for the first time ever, I’m being heard by a man who’s interested in me.In making me feel good.In making sure I have what I need—and not the other way around.
