Page 67 of Lucky Haven

She searches my face, looking for the catch. There isn’t one, but I don’t blame her for expecting one, given the conditional relationship she had with her uncle.

Her mouth softens into an appreciative smile. “I can buy it from you.”

The hell she can. “You’re just borrowing a car from a friend. It’s not a big deal.”

She takes a hesitant step toward me, then surges, smacking right into my chest as she wraps her arms around my waist. “It’s a very big deal. Thank you.”

“You’re my girl. I gotta treat you right.” I kiss the top of her head, ignoring the thick lump forming in my throat.

I should let her get in the car. But even after I let her go, I crowd her against the driver’s door instead.

She tips her head up and laughs, her throat working. I plant my hand on the car and hold her chin. The sun catches the bronze in her hair and there’s never been a more perfect moment in my life than right now.

“You check in when you get home,” I say. “Text me.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“I know.”

I lean in and kiss her forehead. “Good girl. Drive safe.”

The next morning, Riley opens, so I follow Haven into town. But then I stay at the garage late, and I’m not right behind her when she drives home.

But she texts me as soon as she arrives, so my worry only lasts for fifteen minutes.

Haven

Safe at the ranch

Cash

That’s what I like to hear

When I finally get back to the ranch, she’s changed into jeans and a t-shirt, and is elbows deep in flour, making bread with my mother.

And not just any t-shirt. Not one of her usual Sunday school teacher shirts. Luna must have given her a hand-me-down for the messy kitchen task, because Free Range Human is stretched tight over Haven’s generous tits.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, trying not to stare at the bounce and jiggle of a dusting of flour.

“Getting bread ready for tomorrow.” She huffs a breath at an errant strand of dark red silk that’s fallen over her forehead.

I lean in and tuck it securely behind her ear. “What’s tomorrow?”

“We’re throwing Hope a secret bridal shower,” she whispers, her eyes twinkling. “Really just a girly picnic, no boys allowed. No offence.”

“None taken. I think this is probably a picnic my mother has been looking forward to for thirty years.”

“Oh, shush,” Luna says from the other side of the counter. “But also, get out. I’m bonding with your girlfriend. There are sandwiches in the fridge.”

I snag one of them, as well as a bottle of root beer. “In that case, thank you very much. I’ll enjoy the heck out of these, and then mow the lawn.”

“Don’t forget to give the⁠—”

“Grass clippings to the chickens, I know, Ma. I know.”

By the time I finish with the riding mower, Haven has drifted outside to watch me.