Page 25 of Country Charm

“Ain’t no thing,” I say calmly.

Jake goes to start unhooking the trailer and I move to the back of the truck to pull out the large wagon we use to carry supplies. I look and see that Jake is already ahead of me, pushing the trailer toward our market spot, and it’s not too far. We get to pull our truck up and through the market because the only people who are here are the ones setting up, but Jake is too nervous to drive through the street withpop-up tents here and there. I don’t mind him being cautious. If anything, I respect it.

He immediately starts setting up our tent and I swell with pride. This boy is a good one. I bring the wagon over, completely filled, and then start pulling out the tables and tarps. This is the fourth or fifth market he has done with me and already he has everything down to a science; it’s impressive.

“Oh shit,” I hear him mutter under his breath.

“Everything okay over there?” I ask as I continue to unfold tables and cover them.

“Yeah, I just forgot these preserves my ma made for Lena. She canned them fresh this week.” Jake’s face gets a little ruddy and I smile.

“You want to run home after we finish setting up? I can man the stand for a bit.”

“No sir. I live close to Lena; I just knew she would be here today.”

As Jake continues to work, I can tell he has a little less steam in his engine. There are a few times I consider bringing it up again but think better of it. When we finish setting up our stand, I see him survey the whole thing and then pull out his phone for the fourth time.

I feel bad for the kid—he wants to do the right thing and work his shift. Being young passes us by so fast. I remember being a kid and thinking about how every moment was make it or break it, but that isn’t really how life works. Harrison was worse than me. Mama never had a girl, but sometimes I swear that brother of mine is awful emotional. If he thought it was do-or-die, he really thought it was, and he couldn’t keep quiet about it.

It’s about ten a.m. and the market is in full swing. Parents are toting around their kids, checking out eachstand. Out-of-towners are making multiple rounds before buying anything. Jake and I are filling bags that we bring and recycle from other stores as well as reusable cloth bags people bring. I can see that he scans the crowd many times and tenses each time.

“Did your girl know you were bringin’ her something?” I ask, bagging an out-of-towner’s vegetables and some pickles I made. I don’t even look over at him; I don’t want him to feel like I’m prying, but I can tell he is tense.

“She’s not my girl, and no, I didn’t tell her. She just likes them.” He is a bit more curt than usual, but I pay no mind.

“I don’t think she’ll mind a visit to her house later, right?” Jake doesn’t respond and he just lets out a heavy breath.Poor Kid.

We keep working and I see Franny in her jean cutoff shorts walking toward my stand. Right behind her, the sun catches the light of something that shines. It’s the shimmer of long, chestnut-brown hair attached to a head thrown back in a boisterous laugh. I am almost positive I know that loud, infectious laugh attached to that shimmery brown head of hair. The laugh alone makes me smile. A familiar blonde blocks my view, and when I make eye contact with Franny, I can tell she thinks that my smile is for her. She has a grin of her own from ear to ear.

She strides, with pride, up to my table adding a little sway to her narrow hips.

Now with my view on the brunette open, my suspicion is verified—that creamy skin and brown hair belong to Cassidy. Only problem is, she’s not alone. She’s with a man and he’s making her laugh, hard. A jealous wave washes over me, wishing her laughter was brought to my ears from me alone, and not this obvious city fuckwad.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, and shefocuses on something across the market. His face is dangerously close to hers, his mouth probably grazing her ear. She just continues to laugh. A sound I’ve wanted to hear all week, but at the moment it’s like nails on a chalkboard.

“Hey, Hunter!” Franny bellows sweetly and I see green eyes meet mine. Cassidy looks right at me, and I grimace. She looks stunning and stunned. Beautiful and bewildered.

“Franny,” I regard, pulling my eyes from Cassidy and over to Fanny.

“How’s the day treatin’ you?”

“Fine, who’s watchin’ the soap stand?”

“One of my brothers. They have it covered. I was wondering if you were going to be out tonight? I heard some of these vendors are leaving their tents and letting the town borrow them.”

I forgot for a minute tonight was our town’s annual summer cookout. I usually attend and even help set up or break down, but I can’t remember why I didn’t bother to sign up this year. I feel like there was a reason, but I just can’t place it. Part of me recognizes if I go and just offer help, they will gladly take it.

“I’ll probably be there. You and the family?” I take a chance to peak over at Cassidy and she watches me intently, not the slightest bit coy. She has no shame in standing straight and watching my interaction with Franny.

Does it bother her?She came here with another man so I can’t imagine that it would.

“Yeah, I guess so. I think a band from a few towns over is gonna play. Heard they’re pretty damn good. Save me a dance?”

“I don’t dance, Franny,” I say flatly.

The man who was at Cassidy’s side is nolonger there. She stands alone watching and when our eyes meet, she decides to walk over.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

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