Page 39 of The Pretenders of Copper County
“Ah, shit. Sorry, Sunday. I’m sure you two want to, ah… relax.” Watt gave us a little smirk that had Reed and I exchanging a befuddled glance after he resumed walking. “You sure you don’t want me to take one of those bags?”
Reed grunted a negative. “Just eager to get settled in. We spent a lot longer in town than I’d planned.”
I flushed. “I couldn’t help it,” I explained to Watt. “O’Leary was so pretty, and everyone wassonice. We met this incredibly tall man outside the bakery who had the biggest dog I’ve ever seen, and I couldn’tnotpet him and chat with him for a while—er, chat with the man, not the dog.”
Watt nodded. “That’ll be Ash walking Cupcake. Sillyname for a mastiff, but he and Cal insisted. They own the bakery.”
“Oh, and I had the best conversation about imported cheeses with this really adorable man at Lyon’s Imperial Market, and he appreciated my advice so much, he said to stop by his shop and he’d give me free flowers?—”
“Best guess, that was Micah.” Watt shook his head. “Poor guy’s been trying to fancy up our football-watching parties for a couple years, but it’s not working so far.”
“And the sweetest, friendliest guy gave me a flyer about a bulb-planting demonstration he’s doing at the Pumpkin Festival the Saturday after next. Were you aware that there’s going to be an actualfestival of pumpkins?” I demanded excitedly.
“I was.” Watt outright grinned, making his kind face even kinder. “And the man you’re talking about was probably Constantine—the friend I mentioned earlier. He’s also Micah’s husband.”
“Husband!” I said, delighted. “Are there a lot of LGBTQ people around here?”
“Oh yeah. Loads in O’Leary and plenty in Copper County, too. It’s a really accepting place. Some of my best friends are gay and bi. In fact, my buddy Parker set up a social group, if you’re interested?—”
Reed gave another loud grunt, this one accompanied by a narrow-eyed glare at Watt, who, inexplicably, chuckled.
I shot Reed a look over my shoulder. He seemed to be getting progressively grumpier as the day went on, and I didn’t understand it. He’d been borderline rude to every one of the guys who’d struck up a conversation with me that day.
I would have teased him about still beinga bit overwrought, but he probably would’ve only grunted at me some more.
“Ha. Sorry, man.” Watt held up his hands. “I understand, believe me. I was in your shoes once, sort of, though it’s been a while.” He gave us an indulgent smile. “Nearly there now.”
I wasn’t sure what Watt understood, exactly. The complex grunty language of grumpy people, perhaps? Maybe it was only taught to folks who were bearded, and buff, and neither talkative nor vertically challenged. If so, I wished someone would clue me in because I did not—seriously, no kidding, didnot—understand Reed Sunday’s shifting moods.
In my hurry to keep pace with Watt, I didn’t notice a large boulder in my path, and this time, I wasn’t fast enough to catch myself. But before I even had time to contemplate hitting the ground, Reed’s arm shot out from behind, andhecaught me. “Careful,” he murmured, pulling me against him for a steadying moment. “Do you need us to slow down?”
My heart beat so hard I could feel it in my throat, and my stomach swooped like I was still in mid-fall, but I didn’t think any of that was related to me tripping.
“N-no, I’m fine.” I tried not to breathe in the scent of Reed’s woodsy cologne, in case it made me spout nonsense like it had yesterday. “I’m a very good walker. I’ve been walking for years.”
Okay, maybe the cologne wasn’t entirely to blame for my nonsense-spouting.
Reed pressed his lips together like he was fighting a laugh, but as quickly as he’d caught me, he released me, and his grumpy frown returned. “Let’s go,” he said, all business.
See? Seriously,soconfusing.
My fingers twitched to touchhim some more, but his whole demeanor said “back off,” so I hurried to catch up to Watt again, paying attention to my feet this time… which meant I nearly plowed into Watt when he stopped suddenly and spread his arms wide.
“Here we are! Welcome to your new home away from home.”
We stood in the middle of an overgrown field of rye and bluestem crisscrossed with dirt paths. A semicircle of trees bordered half the field—cottonwood and birch, pine and maple—with a few small, gray-shingled sheds peeking out at intervals. To the right was a low building—a slightly larger version of the sheds—with weathered Adirondack chairs arranged in the waist-high grass out front. Beyond that was an unpaved road that led uphill past a comfortable, Craftsman-style house before disappearing into yet more trees.
“That’s the driveway,” Watt said, following my gaze. “Follow that up the hill and you’ll come to the main road, a little further down from the turnoff to my place. And that’s the Wrigleys’ house over there.” He pointed at the Craftsman. “Oak set up a security system in case anyone decides to pinch their antique kaleidoscope collection, so the house itself is off-limits, but the rest of this place is all yours for as long as you want to stay.”
“All ours?” I said, turning in a wide-eyed circle. Bees buzzed through the grasses, and crickets chirped like it was still summer, but the thick stands of trees promised cool shade and hidden treasures to discover. “Wow!”
“All ours,” Reed repeated, shifting the cooler on his shoulder and dragging the toe of his boot through the overgrown grass. “Wow.”
“It needs a little work,” Watt allowed. “I’ve kept up with it as much as I could since old Abe died and Mrs. Wrigley had a stroke a couple years ago, but it’s a lot for one personto do part-time, especially during apple season. I mowed a couple times this summer, and my son Derry and his friends cleared some brush back in June. Hesaysit’s because the lake access on our property’s too stony, but I know it’s because?—”
“Wait,” I interrupted. “Pardon, did you say there’s alake?”
Watt’s smile warmed. “Copper Lake. Prettiest spot around. Even the O’Learians agree…” He quirked an eyebrow. “At least the smart ones do.”
