“Want a latte?”
Not really, but I pulled a ten from my wallet and handed it to Beau. “Thanks.”
“Put your money away. I got you.”
Beau patted my shoulder and got in line at Rise and Grind behind a middle-aged woman with frizzy blond hair. I cast a suspicious glance around Rise and Grind, my gaze snagging on the coffee-tude of the day—“Today’s good mood is sponsored by coffee. You’re welcome!”
I didn’t come here often, and I definitely wouldn’t have come midmorning on a Friday when the place was buzzing with regulars and weekend tourists, but I was in between projects at the mill and Beau wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I eyed my friend at the counter, blushing through his order. The poor guy had a big crush on Davey, the sassy redheaded barista, and he didn’t think anyone noticed. I huffed a laugh and pulled my cell from my pocket just as a message from Freya lit the screen.
12 weeks down, twenty-eight to go!
I smiled automatically.How do you feel?
Great! I’m going to my studio today. I have a lot to catch up on.
Did you tell Dexter?
Freya put an exclamation point on my text.Of course! He’s very excited. Have you seen him lately?
As a matter of fact, he’d ridden my cock a few hours ago, his hands clutching the bedpost behind me, his knees planted on either side of my thighs. I’d been his personal pogo stick, and I hadn’t minded at all.
Not something I was going to share with Freya, though…or anyone.
No, I lied.
Buy a donut if you get a chance and let me know if he’s extra happy.
I sent a thumbs-up and?—
“What language is that, dude?” Beau held up a latte for me.
“Swedish.” I stuffed my phone in my pocket. “Thank you.”
“I forget you really are Thor sometimes. Too bad you don’t have an accent. Were you texting your mom or something?”
“A friend.”
Beau’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Who is she, man? Or…he?”
“Not that kind of friend. Ready to go?”
He blew a raspberry and scanned the store. “Uh…Micah and Lyle were supposed to be here, but?—”
“Why? What are you up to?” I growled as I held the door foran older couple. The woman blanched at my expression, and I felt bad…and extra irritated with Beau.
“Chill. It’s nothing terrible.” He took a leisurely sip of his drink and nonchalantly surveyed Main Street.
It was a beautiful spring day—not a cloud in the sky. The store awnings were crisp and clean, potted flowers and topiaries flanked freshly painted benches, and the sidewalk was crowded with window-shoppers. Summer was a mere few weeks away, and soon enough there’d be limited parking and people everywhere.
No one complained, though. Tourism had become a gold mine for Wood Hollow. Dexter told me that his donut sales more than quadrupled in summertime. Businesses like Swensen’s Ice Cream Parlor thrived even though they were only open a few months out of the year. Even Fox’s Drug Store did well, and the old man didn’t sell anything you couldn’t buy at the market or at Mill Depot.
Buzz buzz
I peeked at the caller ID. Dexter.
I couldn’t take his call with Beau lurking nearby and plotting something he knew I wouldn’t like. A poker game, a picnic or bowling with coworkers, or?—
