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“Good morning to you too, Tanner,” she says diplomatically before walking around me, not wanting to engage. She has me off-kilter. I didn’t even say good morning.
I grab her arm firmly as she passes by, and she spins around to look at me, her hair whipping my shoulder. We are close, mere inches between us, and I can smell a floral scent—from her or from the flowers in her hand, I don’t know. But it is nice. Feminine. Something that has been missing from my life for a very long time.
“I just mean that it isn’t safe,” I growl low to her, tilting my head down so she hears me. She looks up at me, sucking in a small breath, and I soften my hold on her but don’t let go. I don’t want to.
“Jerry said it was fine,” she says, now looking at the truck with concern, sounding a little unsure.
“Jerry wouldn’t know a thing about trucks if one hit him on the road. I had it serviced for Marie not long before she died. It should get you from point A to point B okay, but no long trips, alright? Town and back, and that’s it. Marie never drove it out of town.” My sudden concern for my new neighbor takes me by surprise.
“Are you trying to scare me or something?” Her eyes thin, and I let out a sigh. Frustration, at her and myself. We have clearly gotten off on the wrong foot, and it is obvious that she doesn’t find me genuine. Sure, I want her land, but I am usually not so much of an asshole to the locals, even if they are prohibiting me from business expansion.
“Just offering some friendly advice, take it or leave it. This isn’t the city. If the truck breaks down, you will need to walk,” I tell her straight before letting go of her arm completely. She remains where she is, looking up at me, the sun hitting her hair and making it shine a warm honey color, like a whiskey aged just a few years. Up closelike this, I can see her bright-blue eyes better, the way her lips pout a little in the middle. Fuck, I need to get a grip. I have never noticed this shit about women before. I’m not sure why it is happening now.
“Thank you for the advice,” she says in a tone that lets me know I have put my foot in it again. All I can do is nod, because I don’t trust my mouth to say anything remotely intelligent to her at the moment. As she steps away, my body hates the distance.
She opens the door to the truck, and I watch her pull herself up and in, the squeals from the door hinges almost deafening. She needs a better vehicle. Her eyes dart to me, almost daring me to say something, and I clench my jaw tight. Seeing she has a tray full of hardware, she has obviously been to see Bob this morning, which is not a great sign. The last thing I need is for her to get busy turning that house into a home. I stand rooted to the sidewalk, watching her back out and drive down the street, a large plume of black smoke trailing behind her.
“Shit,” I say to myself, knowing the truck won’t last much longer.
“Bit of an old rust bucket, isn’t it?” Jasmine says, stepping out of her shop to stand next to me, the two of us watching our new resident drive away.
“It’s a danger to the roads,” I growl, and she huffs.
“It really is. She should take it to Dad’s garage,” Jasmine suggests.
“Dad’s?” I ask her. She lives in the next town over, although she is always at the distillery, either dropping off new floral arrangements for the restaurant or havingconversations with my team. With not many other young people in the town, I already know that she has Victoria in her sights to be her new BFF.
“My dad owns the garage in Williamstown. He can probably service it for her,” she says, her eyes assessing me like they always do.
“I had it serviced a few months back, but it is old.”
“Well, she will be at the bar tonight. I invited her for drinks. We will be there at seven, just in case you want to know,” she says coyly, and my eyes narrow.
“Why would I want to know that?” I grumble, but even so, I pocket that little piece of information.
“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps because you jumped on her the minute she left my shop. Perhaps the way you grabbed her and pulled her close, or perhaps the way that you are still standing here on the sidewalk, looking down the road for any last trace of her. I never see you looking at any other woman like that.”
She’s fishing for information, and I need to stop being so obvious.
“I’ve got to get back to it,” I say, stepping away from her, not entertaining her ideas. When I walk back to my truck and open the door, Jasmine’s voice stops me.
“She really likes flowers. Just so you know,” she hollers at me before I jump in my truck, wondering why I am now memorizing that little piece of information too. I slam the door, put the truck in gear, and drive straight back to the distillery, looking everywhere along the way for a rusted red truck and not happy until I see it exactly where it should be. Parked at Marie’s place and in one piece.
10
VICTORIA
Ipush through the large wooden door of the bar and am pleasantly surprised. It’s big, with high ceilings and people everywhere, giving a nice hum of conversation to the place, along with some country music playing in the background. It is new and polished, yet rustic. Lots of soft brown leathers, hardwood floors, and amazing antler chandeliers hanging from the exposed beams above. It is what I would class asluxe countryand I love it.
“Oh, you’re here!” I hear a squeal and look to my left, spotting Jasmine at the bar waving frantically. I huff a smile, which is hard to erase at the sight of her seemingly excited to see me. As I take another quick look around, I am thankful that I dressed appropriately. No little black dress required here. Instead, I opted for darker jeans and a black silk camisole top since it is pretty warm tonight. My hair’s up in a ponytail, because after working all day, it was just a mess and no amount of blow-drying wasgoing to help. And I finished off with a lick of bright-pink lipstick.
Walking over to her, I laugh at her excitement, but it’s kind of nice to make a new friend. A few people turn and look, and I’m suddenly a little self-conscious. Since I am new in town, I am still hot gossip. I feel a bit like an animal in a zoo, with many eyes on me, so I keep my eyes forward and try to smile. I don’t want to have resting bitch face as their first impression of me.
“Hey, you, glad you made it,” she says as I pull up a barstool and sit next to her. I see Bob over at a table against the wall, and I give him a smile. He holds up his beer in a cheers as his greeting.
“This is Lacy. Lacy, this is Victoria.” Jasmine introduces me to the woman behind the bar. She is beautiful, looks a little younger than me, and she gives me a wide smile.
“Great to finally meet you. I have heard a lot about you already,” she says, leaning on the bar, clearly working tonight.
