Page 28 of Country Charm

I’m glad Mary found someone who indulges her and thinks the sun shines out of her ass. He laughs at all her dramatic tendencies and takes every outburst she has ever had in stride. He just accepts her for who she is, and I can appreciate that. Plus, he can totally crack jokes about it all day with me, but in a good-natured, loving kind of way.

We make it into the B and B, and all go our own ways. Once I’m in my room I look over to the market from my window. We have a view of the center of the square, and I can see Franny’s soap stand, but not Hunter’s produce stand.

I don’t know why I’m watching, I wanted to lie around and possibly take a nap before we all meet up with Trent’s mom to show her the church.

Now I’m not tired.

Franny is a pretty girl. Skinny, blonde, and all country. She’s part of this town and proud to be. She made that apparent in the short amount of time we stood at her stand. I don’t know what’s going on between her and Hunter, but if they have a history, I don’t want to get in the middle of it.

The image of them dancing at the cookout crosses my mind and I immediately grimace. Jealousy has never been a factor for me. I’ve seen men I’ve hooked up with out with other girls or even married down the line, and not once did it bother me. The fact that this is bothering me right now shows me how much I need to avoid it.

I impulsively look down at my phone. One unread message. I hate that I hope it’s him.

Country Charm: Come tonight, please.

I let out a sigh. I already told Mary I would go, but now I just want to avoid it at all costs. I don’t like how this whole situation has me feeling. Fleeting emotions outside of the ones I feel from reading are not my thing. I think that’s why I leave the romance in my life to books. Even though they can get me in the feels, they aren’t my feels. Not my own personal feels, anyway.

I start typing a response when I peek out to see him in the flesh walking up to Franny’s stand. My hands still and I hold my breath while I watch their interaction.

He stands with his arms crossed across his chest while he talks with her. He just shakes his head and smiles politely. I can see from here he’s smiling. I would give my left foot to hear what he’s saying. This also adds to my need to stop talking to him. I can’t possibly be this desperate.

I delete what I started typing and then turn away from the window. I don’t need to watch that. It’s none of my business.

Showing Trent’s mom the church went by with flying colors. I guess the country club is so “last season”, and none of her friend’s children have done anything so “quaint but charming”. Mary’s relief was tangible. She loves this church. I have to admit, it really is a cute little spot. They even have an outdoor space for services when the weather permits. The inside has this illuminative quality from their stained glass windows. Most churches I’ve been to have stained glass windows that depict something, but these are more abstract. They are just artful, created by the mother of the priest a long time ago. That kind of history makes Mary, as a designer, happy.

Now that that’s all said and done, Trent’s mother has turned in for a quiet evening to herself. I had similar plans before Trent and Mary pouted and forced me to come to this damn cookout. I only brought one nice outfit, so I’m here in ripped jeans, a cut-off Queen shirt, and my go-to Chucks.

Mary looks like a doll in a high-waisted, pleated royal-blue skirt and peach chiffon tank, with a thin pink belt separating the two. Trent is wearing grey slacks and a white button-down with his sleeves rolled up. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. Even in the summer sun this morning he left his long sleeves down. He’s a handsome man but in that tan, lean, baseball player kind of way.

We’re walking aimlessly through the square, just taking it all in. They have string lights dangling from each tent connecting to a gazebo in the middle of the square, interlinking and crossing like a beautiful glittering spider web. The stands that were selling goods this morning are filled with different kinds of foods and games. The main entrance road is blocked off by a large stage where a band is playing live. I don’t think I’ve ever been to anything like this.

The people in the town are dressed to the nines. Dresses and skirts on every girl and nice button-ups paired with clean jeans on every man. I look down at my outfit and cringe. I have nice clothing at home but thought we would just be driving back to the city tomorrow, so I only packed the minimum necessities.

As I walk and people watch, I’m pleasantly surprised. The interaction between everyone is so genuine and kind. People are so happy to see each other, even though they probably saw each other this morning at the market, or maybe even at the local restaurant or store.

Mary and Trent look over at me and give me a weary smile.

“You two don’t need to worry about me. I think I’m a bit underdressed, I should probably just head in.” I slide my hands in my back pockets and rock back on my heels giving them a childish grin.I win.

“I think you look great,” a deep voice rumbles from behind me. I look over my shoulder and the sight has me catching my breath.

Hunter is standing in tight, dark wash jeans and a lighter grey cotton button-up, with the sleeves rolled up to right past his elbows. Those same boots I saw him in a week ago are on his feet and he has a black cowboy hat on top of his dirty blonde hair. I never realized how hot one of those hats could be.

Those blue eyes light up with the little sunshine that is left in the sky. In his right hand is a handful of flowers. Not the kind of flowers you would get at the general store. These are somehow more beautiful than that. They are simple with hints of yellow, purple, and blue mixed into the healthy greens.

“She’s not the only one,” I hear Mary mutter to Trent.

Turning to face Hunter head on I look him square in the eyes. “Well, that’s awfully kind to say, but I can see this a skirt kind of event. I don’t take offense by removing myself.” I hear Mary huff behind me but pay her no mind.

Before Hunter can say his next sentence, a squeal crosses the whole damn square.

“Hunter, you big softy!” Franny from the soap stand comes trotting over in a yellow A-line sundress that gives her hips more shape than I know she has. Her pristine boots clink against the pavement as she steps in between Hunter and me. Her hand darts out toward the flowers. “Wildflowers aren’t my favorite, but it’s the thought that counts!”

She almost grabs them when he lifts his arm and gets them out of her reach.

“Good thing they aren’t for you then.” His lips form a flat line, and his blue eyes pierce her with annoyance, before softening as they return to me.

“Oh my God, Trent, those weeds are for Cass.” Leave it to Mary to call the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen weeds. I roll my eyes and shake my head at her comment.

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