Page 37 of Hand Picked
“Yeah, I know.” He cleared his throat. “I believe you.”
“Good.” It was pathetic how good those words made me feel.
“But you can’t keep trying to do the work yourself. It’s fucking stupid. You’re gonna get hurt, and—”
“I can handle it.” I lifted my chin. “I’m looking into getting a personal loan. I haven’t given up. Pippin Hollow Credit Union said I haven’t lived here long enough to become a member, which sucks, and the other places I tried want me to put up collateral, but I don’t have any except the land, which I can’t use because—”
“Because you can’t get a clear title, and round and round it goes.”
“Yeah. It’s complicated.”
“Which is why you need a friend to help you ‘uncomplicate’ it?” He lifted an eyebrow.
I laughed. “No. This is no one’s problem but mine, and I’ll uncomplicate it myself. But it is sometimes frustrating. Which is why last night I needed to blow off some steam.”
“And ended up blowing the Handfast Bugle instead.”
“If only your townspeople called it that,” I sighed. “You would have avoided it like the plague, Mr. Allergic to Relationships, and saved us all this trouble.”
“Our townspeople. And I’m not sure that’s true since I didn’t know what handfastingwasuntil after I’d already done it.” He paused, then said in a rush, “You know it’s not about you, right? The relationship thing. I just… I have no interest in getting married again. Ever.”
I blinked at him. “Well, right, but even if you were, I wouldn’t be the person you’d choose.” I laughed lightly.
He frowned. “Don’t say that. Look, I know we barely know each other, and after the way I’ve acted toward you, you have no reason to believe me, but you’re a likable person, Luke. You’re funny. A-and smart.” His face darkened. “About everything except home repairs, anyway. And I’m sure any guy looking for a… a handfast partner would pick you. But I’m not—”
“That’s…” I shook my head. Was Webb Sunday actually giving me the it’s-not-you-it’s-me speech? He was adorable. And so freakin’ obtuse. “I meant because I’m aman, Webb. And you’re straight?”
“Oh.” Webb hesitated. “No, yeah, that’s probably also a good point.”
Probably?
I turned to eyeball him and found that Webb was already staring at me, green eyes intent on mine and lips parted just a tiny bit, his face so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek.
What… the…
Then Webb sucked in a breath and pushed to his feet so quickly I thought I must have imagined the whole thing.
“So! Speaking of the handfasting! We should, ah… talk about the, ah… the requirements. The… the ‘confirmation tasks.’ So we can avoid fulfilling them.”
“Oh, right.” I shook my head to clear it. “Yeah. Good idea.”
“I had my attorney look it over earlier, and he chuckled a lot, but I haven’t read it yet. I was a little bit… upset,” he admitted. “Have you read it?”
I shook my head. I’d been waiting until I was calmer, too. I had a feeling I’d be waiting a while.
“Well, Curt—my attorney—said as long as we don’t fulfill all twelve obligations within eight weeks, the handfasting process expires, the bylaw won’t apply, and we’ll be free.”
“That easy?” I asked. “Awesome.”
“Yup. But he also said Ernest York is gonna be publicizing the heck out of this thing. It’s the kind of charming story that brings in tourists,andit deflects from the divisive clusterfuck of the resort development. You’ve heard about that, right?”
I nodded.
“And the people of this town…” He shook his head. “When they think there’s matchmaking to be done, they get even more meddlesome than usual. And they’re not gonna believe that you and I aren’t actually… you know.”
“Together?” I supplied.
“Exactly. So we’re gonna want to be careful, otherwise we’ll find out too late that eating pancakes together at Jack’s somehow made our betrothal official because of the Little Pippin Hollow Breakfast Food Consumption Act of 1742.”
