Page 23

Here’s the thing, I can turn heads. I’m no model, but I’m passably pretty, and have a great ass from a life of horseback riding. Getting attention from men hasn’t been an issue for me.

But Lincoln seems totally ambivalent about my presence.

I hate how much that bothers me. I should be the one ignoring him. Is it irritating that he hasn’t given me the opportunity to ignore him? Yes.

“Hey,” I finally say, trying not to sound annoyed. “I wondered if I could drive the truck into town? I thought I might grab lunch.”

“Sure thing,” Hank says, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans and then tossing me his keys.

I catch them, but the metal catches my fingernail. I grimace, checking it over to make sure the nail didn’t pull away from the cuticle—it hurts like a bitch when that happens.

My finger is fine, thankfully. I look up just in time to find Mister Sunshine himself watching me with one dark eyebrow quirked in a judgmental arch.

Straightening my shoulders, I look past him and smile at Hank. “Thank you. Do you guys want me to bring you back some food?” I ask, showing Lincoln that I’m a nice person.

“I assume you’re going to Porcupine Café?” Hank asks.

I nod.

“I’ll take a slice of apple pie, if you don’t mind.”

“Make that two!” Otto says with a grin. “Tom makes the best apple pie.”

I smile back, then glance at Lincoln, waiting for his answer.

“I’m good. I packed a lunch,” he says.

Of course, he’s refusing my charitable offer.

“Okay. I’ll be back in about an hour.” I turn to leave but think of something and turn back. “Quick question. Is the truck clean? Or should I change?” I don’t actually care; clothes wash up, but I may as well enjoy watching Lincoln squirm with my spoiled pony club princess facade.

Sure enough, Lincoln stares at me like I grew demon horns. He scoffs and glances at Hank. “Might want to give her the keys to the Rolls Royce instead, Boss.”

“Linc,” Hank says in a warning tone before turning back to me. “The truck is clean, Hattie. You should be okay.”

I smile, ignoring Lincoln—finally, my turn to ignore him.

“Whew,” I say with a chuckle. “I wasn’t sure if it would be as dusty as Sunshine’s pickup, or if it’s well-kept. Maybe I need to invest in some Wranglers and flannel while I’m here.”

Hank and Otto chuckle, but Lincoln’s eyes narrow. But I barely notice because I’m ignoring him.

Clutching the truck keys, I duck out of the barn quickly before he can say anything. I stride toward the garage, feeling like I have a leg up for once.

Lincoln can assume whatever he wants about me. Screw that guy.

I fling open the door of the Tundra—which is sparkling clean on the inside, but I already knew that from riding in it with Hank the other day—and so did Hank. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I adjust everything before taking off down the driveway.

It’s only about fifteen minutes down gravel roads before I turn onto the pavement that leads to the small town of Honey Badger Creek. A town so tiny, there isn’t a single stoplight.

Main Street has shops along both sides. I drive until I come to Porcupine café and park the truck in front. The quaint but cozy café boasts several circular tables in the front, and some larger, rectangular tables toward the back, all covered in red and white checkered tablecloths. Large windows in the front bring in natural light, and the wood floors exude a rustic charm.

A young woman seated at a small table is distracted with the laptop open in front of her, but the other tables remain empty.

I head toward an antique dresser with an old cash register sitting on top, noting the walls decorated with antiques, old toys, pictures, and dishes. Everything works together somehow, and I find that the clutter adds to the charm.

Chatter coming from a doorway behind the register leads, I assume, to their kitchen. There’s a bronze bell on the counter, so I tap it.

The same woman from the grocery store comes around the corner. Her smile falls when she sees me. “Oh, hi. You’re still in town?”