Page 8 of That Moment
The bell over the door rings again, and Dolly breezes in, ponytail high, lips curved into her signature smile as she waves at Sadie behind the counter. She heads straight for the pickup counter, then spots us and detours with a grin.
“Look at the Slade board of directors,” she says, hugging Brooklyn, then Milly, then me. Her eyes skim my face with the kind of cousin curiosity that registers too much. “Are we gossiping or strategizing?”
“Both,” Milly says. “Trying to figure out how to get Scotty to become the man he needs to be so Adrienne can fall in love with him and finally get that dick.”
Dolly laughs. “You are attempting the impossible.” She holds up a paper bag. “I’d stay, but I’m running late. Speaking of Scotty, he’s coming over tonight, and he and Ranger are grilling out if you want to stop by. I promised to bring the “fancy buns” because I introduced Ranger to brioche once, and he hasn’t stopped talking about it.”
“That sounds like fun.” I smile. “But I have another late night of work.”
“Yeah, I think Scotty is in need of a beer on the back porch with Ranger kind of night. Apparently, he and his most recent situationship are done. Want me to let him know you’re interested?” She bumps her hip against my shoulder with a wink.
“God, please don’t.” I can feel my cheeks starting to turn bright red.
“Fine, but someday, you two just need to get it out of your systems already. I’ll see if I can drop him a few hints tonight for you. Bye, ladies,” she says as she walks toward the door, turning around to wave to Sadie on her way out.
Silence lingers for a beat. Brooklyn and Milly share one look, then slowly swivel to grin at me. I stab a tomato. “Don’t say a word.”
The second I’m back at my desk, before my ass even has time to hit my leather seat, I have a Slack notification from Trent.
Trent:Need to see you now about Midas.
I should go straight home.I even tell myself that as I leave the office, the steering wheel is cool beneath my palms. But when I hit the turnoff that leads toward Scotty’s place, my hands ignore my brain and flick the blinker.
Just a detour. Just curious.
The road curls past fields glowing gold in the late evening sun, the mountains looming steady in the distance. My heart beats louder the closer I get to the weathered fence line I know all too well.
And just as I suspected… There he is.
Bent over the hood of an old Chevy, cap pulled low, shoulders flexing under a thin T-shirt that’s seen better days. Grease streaks his arm, his jaw. The whole picture sums up Scotty in its simplicity: a man, his truck, his ranch. My chest squeezes tight at the sight of him.
Damn it, Adrienne.
I slow down without thinking. Gravel crunches under my tires, and he looks up like he felt me before he saw me. Our eyes lock. That slow smile pulls at his mouth, making my stomach flip over itself.
Just say it, just say you want to…
He tosses his wrench onto the fender and strolls over, rag dangling from his back pocket. Each step is unhurried, confident in a way that doesn’t come from arrogance but from knowing exactly who he is.
I roll the window down, the warm air rushing in.
“Afternoon, Barbie.” His voice scrapes low. “Cruising by just to stare at me working, or did you finally come to admit you can’t resist me?”
I snort, fighting the blush creeping up my neck. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was on my way home.”
“Uh-huh.” His smirk says he doesn’t buy it. He nods toward the porch, where a cooler sits in the shade. “You want a beer? Cold ones waiting.”
My pulse skitters. This is how it always starts… banter that feels harmless until it doesn’t.
His gaze drifts down to my lips. A curl slips against my cheek, and before I can tuck it back, he reaches in and brushes it away with his fingers. The touch is casual but soft. Still, my breath catches.
“You’ve got a little something—” his hand drops to my jaw, turning my head slightly before he drags his thumb across the edge of my lips. “Lipstick was a little smudged.”
A pickup turns onto the lane. The sound snaps through the quiet moment building between us. I glance toward it, recognizing Nelson Myers, everyone’s favorite plumber.
Heat curls low in my stomach, but so does awareness. A reminder that in this town, someone’s always watching. One more pair of eyes. One more rumor waiting to bloom.
I clear my throat, forcing a small smile. “You could’ve told me.”
