Page 30 of Under Pink Skies

“Do you think that’ll be enough?”

I admired Connor’s optimism for the event’s turnout, and was about to tell him as much, when the bell above the door rang again and took my attention.

Imogen’s gorgeous black curls bounced with every step as she practically ran over to me, grabbing both of my hands in hers.

“Betty had her calf this morning!” she gushed. My face lit up with excitement.

“Congratulations, Im! Mama and baby both doing okay?”

“Yes, everyone’s doing amazing. It was so incredible, Abs, I wish you could’ve been there! I would have called you, but I didn’t think Betty would give birth today.”

Imogen released my hands, a cool distaste slipping over her features as she saw who was on the other side of the counter.

“I heard you were back,” Imogen stated. Connor didn’t so much as blink as he held Imogen’s stare.

“I am,” he said.

“Why?”

“Long story.”

Imogen snorted, crossing her arms over her chest as the two of them continued their stare down.

“No, why are youhere, in this store? I don’t recall anyone informing you that you would be welcome back here after what you did.”

“Good to know the two of you can still have a grump-off even at twenty-three,” I mumbled.

Connor leaned against the counter, gripping the lip of the wood tightly with his palms. He shook his head slightly, briefly closing his eyes before he looked back at Imogen.

“Look, I’m just here to help, okay? My business partner is the main festival sponsor. I’m in town this weekend to get the ball rolling on plans. That’s it.”

Imogen didn’t look convinced, but she gave an imperceptible nod of acquiescence and headed out the door to grab the produce to restock the shelves.

“I think 200 brochures are ambitious,” I admitted, biting my cheek. “I think we need to be on the same page with expectations for this festival, especially since your partner is bankrolling part of this operation. He sounds like a great guy, and I don’t want to waste a penny of his funds.”

Connor tilted his head, considering this.

“Well . . . fancy taking a walk with me? We can head to Watley’s for an early lunch. I’m buying.”

“Connor, really, let’s—”

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Abbie, Jesus. It’s just a walk and a meal.”

I bit down on my lip, rocking back on my heels. My heart jumped at the turn of phrase, and for a moment, I swore I could see it, all the plans we used to have together, before it all went up in smoke. Even Imogen’s head snapped up from where she was placing the beans and broccoli into the fridge, no doubt ready to cuss Connor out nine ways from Sunday for having the audacity.

To my eternal surprise, I barely held my smile at bay. For a moment, it felt like we were all in high school again.

“I can watch the store while you’re gone,” Imogen called. “And before you argue, it’s no trouble. I’d literally just be watching grass grow at the homestead. This is far more entertaining.”

Connor’s eyes met mine, and my heart skipped yet another beat. His expression wasn’t pleading or trying to sway me one way or the other.

He was simply looking at me. Atme,rather thanatme, like so many other folks in town have since my father’s outburst.

Connor always just sawme.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “Let me grab my purse from the stockroom, and I’ll be ready.”

I knew I would regret this. God help me, I knew this was just about the worst decision I could make for myself right now, but deep down I knew it didn’t matter.

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