Page 49 of Don't Go Faking My Heart

"Why don't we all go to the game?" Lou suggests. "At least a couple of people from the chamber of commerce will be there. Why not win their hearts and their votes?"

Everyone is on board with the idea, and Ash nods. “Good idea. Besides, I have a boyfriend to support."

We all gather our things and I stifle a yawn. Ash follows me out to my truck. I'm parked on the street instead of in the alley out back, where the Janes and the other shop owners and employees on this side of Maple typically park.

"Thanks for what you did in there,” Ash says. “For letting me figure it out instead of telling me what to do.”

“I’ve seen you in action enough to trust your process.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten there without you.”

“Sure you would have. I asked a simple question.”

“No, you asked and listened. And because you listened, I was able to hear where my thought process was falling short,” she says.

I don’t know what to say, so I smile.

She doesn’t. We’re standing on the sidewalk in front of my truck, and she has her arms folded as she looks me over. “You've been up since before sunrise and you went to bed late last night. You trained an employee on the farm today and worked with Jane & Co.. Yet instead of going home to relax and go to sleep, you're going to coach a T-ball game for someone else's kid."

I shrug. "It's what you do in a small town."

"No, it’s what you do. Not everyone." She looks at me through her blue cat eye glasses, the same exact shade as the stripe in her hair. "You probably rescued a pack of raccoons on the way to work this morning."

I laugh. “No, rescuing Prairie was enough for me.”

“Rusty Fielding,” she says. “What else don’t I know about you?”

Don’t hold back.

"You wanna find out?"

She runs a finger over the side of her mouth. "The way you turn that charm on is seriously disarming."

She walks over to the passenger side of the truck and climbs in before I can get the door for her.

"What are you doin'?" I ask when I open my own door.

"Finding out."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

ASH

At the ball field, I’m glad we have a crowd, because it lets me flirt shamelessly with Rusty and watch him duck his head. I love how he ducks his head.

I also love how he believes in me. I’m still glowing from his confidence that I’d figure out the right strategy back in the conference room. It was hot.

“Looking good, Hotcakes,” I call through the chain link fence between the stands and the dugout. “I like a man in uniform."

Rusty chuckles, holding his clipboard. "Ava S, Noah, Lorilla, you're on deck," he says to the four- and five-year-olds frantically bouncing around him. The little girls all blush at Rusty. Duke may be the famous one, but the girls on the Carolina Coral Snakes are all Team Rusty.

Is it weird that I like that?

So weird.

"Lottie," I say, and my friend's daughter comes over to the fence. But she's eyeing me like I murdered the Paw Patrol in front of her face. Kids usually love me. Lottie usually loves me! "Why are you mean-mugging me, cutie?"

"Ava D's mom told Ava S’s mom that you're Rusty's girlfriend, but I love Rusty."

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