Page 25 of Until You

The irony is that I thought we still had that when she up and left. Either I was blind, or she was good at pretending. Maybe a little of both.

Hookups are temporary and quick. Fun but fleeting with the promise of more never even considered.

But for the first time in a long time, I had an inkling of what I’ve missed when I laughed with Tenny earlier tonight.

Sure, the lust part fired good and well enough, but there was something more with Tenny. Something added.

And I have no fucking clue what it is or whether she felt it or not . . . but I know I want more of it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tennyson

“This is just the best day ever.” Bobbi Jo clasps her hands over her chest as her accent gets a bit thicker with each second. “I told Calliope that there was no way in H-E double hockey sticks that the Tennyson West was going to accept my invitation to help with our Founder’s Day events. That she—meaning you—has turned down every other invitation to get involved in town. Lo and behold, you emailed me and did just that. Two years. You’ve lived here for almost two years, and this is the first time you’ve joined us, and we couldn’t be more thrilled.” She winks and leans over, her platinum-blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she lowers her voice. “Not only did you make my night, but you also made me look oh-so-brilliant to the girls on the committee, so thank you.”

She smiles at me with a cute shrug before moving a stack of fliers from one table to another, her heels clicking on the varnished floor of the community center’s convention area—if you can even call the small space that.

“I mean, we were all sitting there at Wine Wednesday, wondering how to infuse fresh ideas into our annual festivities, and we thought that maybe you, being a woman from the city and having experienced the world beyond Redemption Falls, might just have some to give.”

“Like I said, I can’t guarantee that I have brilliant ideas, but I have able hands and will definitely give all the help I can give.”

She reaches out and pats my hand. “We are so very grateful for that.”

She clickety-clacks her heels to the opposite side of the gym where she proceeds to direct and instruct the volunteers there.

I thought her sugary sweetness was going to annoy the hell out of me. That her niceness was going to drive me batty. That her overly cheerful demeanor would get old after three hours of hearing it infused in her southern twang, but to be honest, it hasn’t been all that bad so far.

But I’m reserving judgment.

With that said, I’m more than certain I’ll have reached the limits of my extroversion sooner rather than later.

I’m already trying to find a way to extricate myself when I’m done so that I don’t end up getting roped into going out for cocktails like they are all talking about.

An introvert can only handle so much people-ing.

I get back to work on finishing up stuffing the envelopes I’ve been tasked with completing. The letters will be mailed out to a set radius of the town’s addresses warning the property owners that fireworks will be going off on Founder’s Day so they can move their animals inside.

“So tell me about that dreamy neighbor of yours,” Alma—I think her name is Alma—says as she scoots into the chair beside me. Her personality matches her frame—large and unapologetic—as she winks with an expectant look on her face.

“Dreamy neighbor?” I ask nonchalantly when I damn well know she’s talking about the man I’ve thought about more times than I’d like to admit over the past forty-eight hours.

“Yes. Crew? Isn’t that his name? The nephew or something or other living out in old Ian Madden’s house by you?” She mock fans herself and sighs but continues on before I can even answer her questions. “That man is the definition of sexy. Dark hair. Dangerous looking tattoos. A nice ass. That smile that makes your lady bits take notice. No woman in this town is complaining about our new visitor, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I’m sure they aren’t,” I say, biting back a laugh.

“Nothing is better than a man who screams bad boy but is actually nice and polite,” Tanya says as she leans over her side of the table, obviously excited to contribute to our conversation. She waves a hand in indifference. “Best of both worlds if you ask me and Millie—you know Millie? The owner of Redemption Falls Annex? She said when he stopped in the other day that he was just that.”

“Is it true?” Alma asks. Two eager sets of eyes stare at me. I’m certain there are a few more pairs of ears straining to overhear this conversation as well.

“I’ve only met him once.” I can practically hear their hopes of learning some juicy tidbit deflating with that comment. “But I can confirm what Millie said. Crew is definitely genuine and kind. Or at least from what I’ve seen. Add to that, his girls clearly adore him as he does them.”

“What do you think happened to his wife? A widower, don’t you think? What woman would leave that man and those gorgeous girls of his behind?” Alma adds before looking at me for the answers that aren’t mine to give.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out—”

“Alma? Alma, honey? Can I get your help over here for a bit?” Bobbi Jo yells across the gym.

Alma huffs at the interruption but rises from her seat, clearly pleased at being called over for help.