Page 22 of Small Town Sash

"Deal," Braden grinned, feeling lighter than he had all day. "But only if you promise not to laugh when I trip over my own feet."

"Never," Hadley promised, her eyes shining with mirth. "I'll just critique your form like a true pageant judge."

"Harsh, Wilder." He feigned a wounded expression before adding, "All right, show me how it's done, champ."

As they continued their workout, Braden realized this was exactly where he needed to be. With every jab, every shared joke, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift, replaced by something far more exhilarating—the simple joy of being with Hadley.

"Your form's not half bad, Sergeant Harding," Hadley kidded, her breath coming in short bursts as they moved onto the treadmills.

"That's because I learned from the best," Braden replied, increasing the incline on his machine to keep pace with her.

"Is that flattery part of your judge training?" she asked, a playful glint in her eye.

"Maybe," he winked. "But no bias here, Wilder. Pure admiration for a worthy contestant."

They ran in a comfortable silence, the rhythm of their strides syncing up. Braden glanced her way, taking in her determination, the way her black hair clung to the nape of her neck, and he felt the urge to spend the rest of the evening with her. A late dinner, a walk, anything—just to be around her more.

"Hey, Hadley, want to grab a—" He was cut off as her phone rang. She slowed her treadmill to a walk, fishing the device out of her pocket.

"Mom?" Her voice shifted, a note of resignation threading through it. "Yeah, I'm almost done here."

Braden's shoulders slumped slightly, the question dying on his lips. He turned down his treadmill, trying to mask his disappointment with a casual shrug.

"Everything okay?" he asked as she ended the call.

"Mom needs me for some pageant prep stuff." She hopped off the treadmill, still breathing heavily. "Duty calls, you know?"

"Sure, duty," he echoed, nodding. "Rain check on our sparring session, then?"

"Definitely," Hadley said, flashing him a quick smile as she gathered her things. "Thanks for the workout. It was fun."

"Anytime," Braden managed, watching her go. "See you, Hadley."

"Bye, Braden," she called over her shoulder, already halfway out the door.

He stood there a moment longer, the gym suddenly too quiet. The temptation to chase after her, to say something—anything—was strong, but he shook his head. Not today.

"Next time," he muttered to himself, the words barely audible over the whir of machines. "Next time."

Chapter Seven

Hadley balanced a tower of canned goods in her arms, her black hair falling like a curtain around her concentrated expression. She navigated through the church's bustling hall, where volunteers were organizing a food drive.

"Whoa, careful there, beauty queen," one of the volunteers joked as she narrowly avoided a collision with a stack of cardboard boxes.

"Thanks, but I've got it," Hadley retorted with a smile, proud of her agility that wasn't limited to the stage. She placed the cans onto the table with a satisfying clink. "And for today, just Hadley will do."

"Right, Hadley without the tiara. Got it," the older man winked, returning to his task.

Just then, a disheveled woman came rushing in, clumsily knocking over a stack of cups.

"Oh dear," she muttered, her cheeks turning the color of the tomato cans Hadley just set down.

Without missing a beat, Hadley moved to help. "Been there," she said, bending down and collecting the scattered cups.

The woman laughed, embarrassment melting into relief. "Thank you," she said. "I'm Kerry."

"Hadley," she responded with a bright smile.

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