Page 21 of All This Time
Rhonan turns to Henley next, who shows two tens, so he splits them. Henley hits on both, getting a twenty on one hand, and twenty-one on the other. All of us acknowledge his stellar hand.
When all’s said and done, I easily win my round with my eleven and the ten that Rhonan deals, and then we play a few more hands before our time together comes to an end.
Outside, as Rhonan locks up the winery, he says, “All right, boys. This has been fun, but the sun, and therefore my kid, rises in about five hours. I’ll see y’all later.”
With a wave, he heads for his car and Elliot lets out a yawn. “Sorry boys, but my bed is calling too. Tori’s probably waiting for me.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Don’t forget about the meeting with us and Laney tomorrow.”
I tap my temple. “Got it written down in here.”
“See ya then. Don’t forget to bring protection for your junk.” Laughing, he heads to his car and takes off, leaving me and Henley alone.
“What does he mean by that?”
Henley scoffs. “He’s probably wondering how you’re going to survive this when Laney would probably Lorena Bobbitt you if she had the chance.”
I take off my backwards ball cap and run a hand through my wavy brown hair, putting it right back in place. “Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. If looks could kill, I’d already be a dead man.”
Henley shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, in my experience, when you’ve wronged a woman, it’s almost impossible to get back on their good side.”
“How many women haveyou wronged?”
Henley smirks. “A few.”
“Well, Laney hasn’t been the same toward me since her mom’s funeral, so...”
“And you still don’t know why she flipped a switch?”
“Not really.”
Admitting my and Laney’s past to Henley right now is only going to open a floodgate of more shit to deal with, especially since he wasn’t there the night the line of our friendship was blurred.
But my goal for the next three weeks is simple: remind Laney of our friendship, get her to lighten up on the icy looks, and hopefully be on a more even playing field with her before I go back to Charlotte—all while trying to keep my contact with my father to a minimum and avoid letting my feelings for her rise back to the surface.
I think it’s feasible. Either that, or I’m much more delusional than I thought.
“I wish you luck, then.” He slaps me on the back. “You’re going to need it. By the way, are you staying in one of the McNallys’ rental cabins while you’re here?”
The McNallys run a cabin rental business in Blossom Peak. Their son, Vince, was a buddy of ours in school and his parents have always been welcoming to me anytime I’m in town, so I did ask them to hold a place for me so I wasn’t imposing on anyone or—heaven forbid—forced to stay with my dad. I never bought my own place in town because I never planned on returning for any real length of time.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Okay. Well, if you get lonely and want to have pillow fights in our underwear and stay up late talking and painting our nails, you know where to find me.” He waggles his eyebrows at me before heading toward his truck.
Laughing, I pull my keys from my pocket as I walk backward. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” After I hop into my own truck, I head for the cabin that will be my temporary home during this stay until I can race back to Charlotte—because when I told everyone I wanted to leave Blossom Peak and never come back here again, I meant it.
Guess not everything we think will happen comes true, huh?
***
“Fletcher Adams!” Justin Cook shouts my name as I enter Blossom Brews, the restaurant and brewery his family has owned for three generations. The place has been updated a few times over the years, but it’s still got the same hometown welcome and the best onion rings I’ve ever had—and I’ve traveled all over this country.
“Justin, my man. How’s it going?” I take a seat at the bar and reach out to shake his hand.
“Can’t complain.” He tosses a coaster onto the bar in front of me. “What can I get for you? I’ve got a new IPA people are raving about.”
“How about a sweet tea with lemon?”
He laughs as he fills a glass with ice, then tops it off with tea from the pitcher behind the bar. “Watching your figure in the offseason?”
