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“Stella is one of the most efficient human beings I’ve ever known, so I’m sure she can figure out where to get those crutches for you by tomorrow,” Tish said.
“If you tell me where, I could go now,” Stella interjected.
I shook my head. “No need. I got them from my doctor’s office.” I glanced around the room to see Charlie Franklin, the doctor in question, with her husband. In the small-town world of Willow Brook, my doctor was married to another hotshot firefighter, Jesse Franklin. “I know her office is closed today because she’s right over there.”
Stella moved as if she was going to walk over there. I reached out and caught her hand in mine. At the mere touch of her, electricity sizzled up my arm.
“It’s really okay. I’ll give her office a call tomorrow. The receptionist will take care of it.”
Griffin chuckled as he glanced toward Stella. “Hudson’s fine, you don’t need to worry. We have plenty of food and drinks. I will go order–” he began just as a waiter stopped by our table.
Tish elbowed Griffin in the side. “Let them do their jobs.”
The waiter took our orders and moved along. Griffin and Tish sat down with us, along with a few other firefighters and friends.
“This is a really nice space,” I commented to Griffin.
“Thank you. I’d like to take credit, but Chase and Archer have been coordinating this part, along with the restaurant manager back in Fireweed Harbor. Tish is running the whole show on the admin side.”
Tish rolled her eyes. “I manage the office here for Fireweed Industries, but I haven’t really done much for this project, except tell them when I thought things looked good and take care of paperwork.”
“I am so glad the winery added a location here,” Stella chimed in. “That’s part of the reason why the law office where I work added a location here. As soon as I finish up my law degree, I’ll be able to start here.”
Stella’s eyes twinkled with her smile. My eyes lingered on the little dimple that peeked out.
Stella
The table was crowded, and I scooted my chair over to make room for someone else. My leg bumped into Hudson’s and I jumped. “Oh, God! Is that your bad knee?” Not thinking, I actually put my hand on his thigh.
Hudson slid his gaze to mine, his green eyes darkening. “No, but you can leave your hand there,” he teased.
Hudson had this low, raspy voice that made my belly spin in flips and my hormones twirl. I couldn’t help but laugh as I took my hand away.
I cleared my throat, willing the heat rising in my cheeks to dissipate. I knew it wouldn’t. I was prone to blushing.
“How is your knee?” I asked.
“It’s getting better. I’ve been very careful.” He patted the knee on his opposite side. “So, if I trip again, hopefully it’ll be okay.”
I cleared my throat again because I couldn’t think of what to say. “I hope it’s all better soon,” I finally said.
There were plenty of lighthearted jokes about Hudson’s bent crutch. At one point, his doctor came over. She was pretty with dark hair and almost-violet eyes. “Tell me what happened?” She eyed the crutch resting beside him.
“It’s my fault!” I actually raised my hand as if I was in class.
Hudson chuckled as his gaze slid toward me. My belly felt all funny when his eyes met mine. He was way too good-looking with rumpled brown curls and green eyes. Although he had an easy manner to him, there was an intensity shimmering underneath. I sensed he had secrets, and, oh, boy, did I love a man with secrets. My hormones loved a mysterious man.
When his doctor prompted, “Oh?” I added, “I drove over them because I didn’t see them.”
The doctor smiled. “Ah, well, Hudson will be fine. I’m Charlie Franklin, by the way.”
“Stella Lancaster,” I replied. “Nice to meet you.”
“Technically, in the chain of events, the crutches fell first, so it’s not really your fault,” Hudson offered with a low laugh.
Charlie assured me I could stop by the office to get him a new set of crutches the next day. As the gathering carried on, I got to hold Tish’s adorable little baby boy, Teddy. Teddy had plump cheeks and a sweet giggle. Eventually, it was time for the purpose of this party. I held Teddy while Griffin’s twin brother made a toast.
“Griffin, the last,” Wyatt said, holding a glass of wine aloft.
