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“I’ll talk sense into her.”

“I’m telling you right now, if she asks me to leave, I’m gone.”

“Fair enough. I’ll worry about Dial. You worry about everything else.”

Tires crunching gravel alerted me that the showdown on Birch Farm was imminent. Turning, I noted Dial and Edison’s vehicles pulling up at the same time.

Fancy’s boots were the first to hit the ground. She was dressed in light pink overalls, and her curls were tied up in a pink bow. “Hey y’all,” she shouted with an excited wave.

Dial’s car door slammed, and to me it was the most aggressive door slam I’d ever heard. She rounded the car, squinting in my direction, her hands resting on her ample hips. Dial was wearing wide-leg jeans that hugged her muscular thighs and fat ass. It should be a crime to walk around town with the substantial wagon she was dragging. Most of the time she wore baggy sweatshirts or overalls, but today she was shitting on everyone within a three-hundred-mile radius.

Seeing how we were in mixed company, I donned my unruffled face, an expression I utilized often so others couldn’t see how completely spun around this woman had me. No, my heart rate wasn’t spiking, my stomach wasn’t in tiny knots, and my dick wasn’t attempting to press against the zipper of my jeans.

Edison and Fancy joined hands, making their way toward us. But Dial chose to hang back, no doubt considering how to proceed. If she came in hot, she’d be accused of overreacting, and hearing Cy say that would just make her madder.

She dropped her head, releasing a mirthless laugh. I knew instantly she’d settled on the scorched-earth method of conflict resolution.

When she walked forward with determined steps, her hips swayed from side to side. Even though I should probably be scared for my life, I was distracted, my gaze tripping down the length of her body. Someone needed to hose me off, because my neck and face were flaming hot.

Dial pointed her finger at me and, with practiced venom, said, “What the fuck is he doing here?”

3

Dial

Pulling up to my childhood home and finding Ozzie standing next to Cy, I knew there was going to be a fight. I was coming from the nursery; it had already been a long day. One of our orders was missing, and the espresso machine went haywire, shooting coffee all over me and the barista. It was a shit morning, and seeing Oz made it ten times worse. Birch Farm was off-limits. We were like competing Mafia bosses, Oz and I. He controlled the town while I claimed dominion of the farmland and fields.

So why his boots were on my soil was a mystery. I’d pulled up pissed, and now I was boiling hot and ready to blow. The last thing I wanted was Cyrus and the others ganging up on me. But Ozzie had no right to be here. I didn’t care if Cyrus had given him the thumbs-up; he should’ve checked with me, and the only reason he hadn’t was because he knew I’d say no.

Closing the distance between me and them with a few long strides, I ignored Edison’s warning: “Dial, be cool.”

Easy for him to say. His ex wasn’t hanging around looking to start trouble at the first opportunity. Yes, Ozzie was Cy’s best friend, but he was also my ex, and in my opinion, that trumped everything. I wasn’t asking Cyrus to end their twenty-odd-year friendship, but there was a time and place. And my childhood home was neither.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

“Dial—” Cy was raising his hands in surrender.

“Don’t Dial me. Answer the fucking question.” I had a quick temper, and it didn’t take much to land on my bad side. So I was making a concerted effort to keep my voice even and my fists unclenched.

“Oz is here to help.”

“Help with what?” Sure, Ozzie was handy—he’d built Maple’s crib from scratch—but we didn’t need his help. The four of us, Cy, Edison, Fancy, and I, were more than enough labor for this project. And if we determined that we needed additional hands, we could post up flyers at the Gas Guzzle or library.

“The renovations, all of it,” Cyrus replied.

“Are you saying Oz is the silent investor?” Edison asked.

Whenever Cyrus was about to say some bullshit he’d do this weird thing with his mouth, smacking and puckering his lips like his words left behind a bitter aftertaste. “Yes.”

Edison and I locked eyes, and he silently expressed sympathy while I attempted to modulate my bubbling anger. He knew being around Ozzie was difficult for me. Our split had been less “this isn’t working out, let’s go our separate ways” and more “I hate the sight of you.” We were supposed to be a team, and he’d betrayed me when I needed him the most.

Heat surged through my body and my muscles quivered, just itching to throw hands. “I asked you on multiple occasions, and every time you said Ozzie wasn’t gonna be involved.”

“Because I knew you’d overreact.”

My gaze slammed into him. The tension was so thick that even the sharpest knife wouldn’t cut through it. Edison grabbed Fancy’s arm, pulling her a few steps back, and Ozzie had a grimace affixed to his stupid face. I wasn’t overreacting. I’d been lied to.

“Cy?” I choked out a laugh. “I’ma beat your fucking ass.”