I roll my eyes.
“It’s mud season, Mack.”
“You wearing a different perfume or something?”
He dips his head closer, actually sniffing.
“What?Oh—no.It’s probably just my shampoo—rosemary and mint—Clara bought it for me as a bridesmaid gift.”
“Well, whatever it is,” he says, nodding seriously.“It sure is nice on you.”
Before I can respond, the sound of tires crunching over gravel cuts through the damp air.
My stomach clenches.
I know that engine.And the footsteps drawing nearer.
“You just wait for me, Kelly, I’ll get that,” Mack says, already hauling the cart free as I turn toward the truck to grab the remaining grocery bags.
“Oh, Mack, that’s not?—”
“That’s not necessary.I’ve got it.”
The new voice is calm.Deep.Familiar.
I freeze.
J.T.
It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the wedding.
And somehow the air changes the second he steps out of his truck.
Maybe it’s just me.
Maybe it’s the way the man seems to take up more space than physics should reasonably allow.He’s big.Tall.Broad across the shoulders in that way men get when they’ve spent a lifetime actually using their bodies instead of posing in a gym mirror.
Rough denim.Work boots.A dark flannel rolled at the sleeves.
The kind of man who looks like he belongs carved into the side of this mountain.
Our eyes meet.
And for a moment I forget what I was doing.
He walks toward me like he always does—slow, deliberate, like he’s got nowhere better to be and all the time in the world.
Then he reaches out and gently takes the bags from my hands like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
No fuss.No asking.
Just… taking the weight.
“Lead the way, Honey.”
Honey.
My brain stalls out completely.
