Leave Him Loved_Harloe Rae Page 7

  Audria squints at me. “For being honest and respectful? Hardly. You could’ve tried getting in my pants by whatever means necessary, and might have succeeded, only to pull a disappearing act immediately after.”

  A riot explodes in my gut. I’ve witnessed such tactics often enough that they shouldn’t bother me, but that doesn’t stop the bitter sensation from pummeling me. “That’s shitty. Please believe that I’d never stoop to such deceitful ploys.”

  “It shows, and I appreciate your tact. Most guys our age wouldn’t give the same consideration.” Her soft grin gives the affirmation I need. This is the correct choice.

  “Pretty sure I’m older than the college guys you’re used to.”

  “You can’t be more than twenty-five.”

  I wink at her. “Right on the nose.”

  “Only a few years separates us. I guess that just makes you more mature and well-mannered.”

  “Like expensive whiskey. My mama raised me right.”

  “Maybe I’ll get the chance to thank her one day,” Audria murmurs.

  An easy smile tips my lips. “She’d welcome you with open arms. I have a sister, but my mother would’ve been overjoyed to have a fleet of girls filling our house.”

  She laughs. “My mom wanted the same and ended up with three sons before getting two daughters.”

  “Not a bad deal,” I comment.

  “Could definitely be worse. I won the sibling lottery. They’re a really great bunch, and I’m not just blowing smoke.”

  “Close family ties are irreplaceable.” I’m grateful to speak from experience.

  “So true. Which is why I’m glad to have found a friend in Bampton Valley.” Audria leans forward to give me a light nudge.

  “You have more than me,” I assure.

  “Yeah, I’m getting there. It’s just strange uprooting my life and essentially starting over, temporary or not. It’s similar to a juice cleanse but less fluids—not as much chopping either.”

  I gulp when bile threatens to rise. “That’s horrifying.”

  She cringes. “I don’t recommend it.”

  The pressure resting on my chest eases. This is nice. “So, you’re not going to vanish and avoid me after this?”

  She scoffs as if the mere idea is ludicrous. “I’m not spiteful.”

  “No, I imagine you’re not. That’s a great quality.”

  “Well, thanks.” It’s her turn to give me a wink.

  The lull that settles allows me to take a much-needed breath. Fuck, this isn’t how I predicted a quick drink at the Salt Lick would go. A gust sweeps in, whipping Audria’s hair about. The wind carries a direct hit of lemon and sweet flowers. That alluring combination beckons me to inhale a deeper whiff. How can she smell so fresh when I’ve been sweating my ass off out here? I stare at her and can’t seem to look away. Her brown eyes latch onto mine, a telling glint busting me in the act. The last thing I need to do right now is send mixed signals.

  I drop my gaze with a curse. In a lame attempt at sealing a truce, I stick out my hand. “So, friends?”

  “Deal.” Audria slides her fingers along mine on the path to connect palms.

  The contrast of satin skin against rough calluses sends an electric zap through me. My much larger mitt dwarfs hers as I authenticate our promise with a gentle shake. This agreement feels like a crime, the forgery and travesty of it all mocking me. We officially cut our potential short. No, that’s not severe enough. I’m whacking the possibility off at the neck and going home alone to do much of the same. Talk about being a fucking moron.

  Before I can dwell on my impending doom, Bea appears beside us.

  She appears more frazzled than earlier, darting a quick glance over her shoulder and searching the crowd. “Hey, Audria. I’m going to head out. Are you staying, or…?”

  Audria peeks up at me before turning to address her friend. “We were just wrapping up. I’ll leave with you.”

  “Great,” Bea chirps. “I’ll wait for you by the… uh, door?”

  “I’ll be right there.” Audria returns her attention to me, eyelids hooded and looking far too sexy. “If my two trips to Main Street are anything to go by, we’ll be bumping into each other often.”

  “Most likely.” I’m already anticipating those future meets far too much.

  “Could be worse.” She laughs, but the tune lacks its usual bounce. “If we cross paths? Great. If not? Maybe on the next round.”

  Her explanation sounds too manufactured, superficial to a fault. I hate it. The sharp jab to my stomach is further proof of that. But this is how it has to be. No obligations lead to low expectations, or none at all.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” I whisper. A better man would end the conversation there, but I can’t resist a small taste. I bend low and brush my lips over her forehead.

  Audria’s breath hitches, and she presses into my light touch. “Until then, farmer.”

  A telltale flurry of activity becomes visible as we cross the final block on Oak Lane. Sondra’s smile grows at the welcome sight. Mouthwatering aromas of several lunch options flow freely along with the buzz of music in front of us. Based on the rich scent of smoking meat, the Pit’s stand is already up and running. My neighbor treats herself to a greedy inhale, and I follow suit.

  She refers to these bimonthly events as Whomp. From what I’ve gathered by my two visits, they’re a cross between a co-op and a festival. I’ll admit to being skeptical initially, but the impressive collections of randomness have become a favorite weekend tradition for me. A hodgepodge of crafts, food, art, and secondhand treasures are up for grabs. The heaps of odds and ends provide a convenient excuse to gather the majority of locals at home base. I imagine their tagline is somewhere along the lines of, Stop by on a whim to find whatever might tickle your fancy.

  We cross the empty road to join the throng, blending into a small crowd near the south entrance. Canvas tents and wooden booths line both sides of Main Street in single rows. Car traffic, meager as it might be, is redirected during these boisterous occasions. Prickles of perspiration dot my hairline, reminding me of the uptick in temperature. Until now, the sprawling canopy of trees had provided a reprieve from the blanket of warmth. The hot July sun has begun to stretch its powerful limbs. Growing up just north of these parts, I’m aware that the oppressive heat will only get more intense as the summer peaks. Not that I could forget, with beams of unforgiving rays scorching my scalp.

  I give my head a light pat and wince. A hat might’ve been a smart choice for spending the afternoon strolling outside. Fortunately for me, I’m in a shopper’s paradise. Glancing from left to right shows several options for sale. Stands featuring a rainbow assortment of gifts and goodies beckon me closer, displaying their wares across the open walls.

  Before I can settle on a vendor, Sondra grips my elbow, and her voice cracks into the comfort of our silent perusing. “Well, there’s a sight you won’t see every Sunday.”

  I follow her gaze, landing squarely on Reeve standing within the shade of a booth. A zing attacks my spine at the mere sight of him. It’s been weeks since our little chat at the Salt Lick. He’d asked me then if I’d been avoiding him. The notion was silly to consider, but we cleared up any confusion. Or so I thought. The truth is, I’ve wondered if he’s the one dodging me after our last encounter.

  The man gives a mighty fine speech. I’ll grant him that. It shocked me initially, mostly because no guy in the history of those I’ve met would ever slap such stipulations down. Then I was half-tempted to be offended that he didn’t want to cross that line with me. That’s ridiculous, of course. Reeve is being respectful and conscientious. I’m not accustomed to that sort of chivalry. But that’s a huge gain in the win column for gentlemanly country stock. I continue staring as he helps a customer, stoic expression firmly locked in place. There’s something to be said about farm guys doing it right. If only I could explore all those possibilities further without consequence. Maybe one day I’ll get a tiny taste. />
  I quit leering like a creeper and peer over at my friend. “He works here?”

  “Not usually.” She juts her chin forward. “It’s a very rare occurrence, actually.”

  “Interesting.” The word curls off my tongue without warning.

  Sondra quirks a brow at me. “Isn’t it? Maybe we should find out what the deal is.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” I rush to say.

  “And I strongly disagree.” She folds her arms, pinning me with an unflinching squint.

  I mirror her intimidation attempt, minus the stainless-steel backbone. Who am I kidding? I’m likely to fold faster than a soggy cardboard box. “Guess that brings us to an impasse. We can say hello to Freya. Looks like she has new paintings on display.”

  “What about Reeve?”

  “He looks busy,” I hedge.

  “Quit making excuses. You guys are friends, right?” Her emphasis on that word reveals her knowledge on the subject.

  Naturally, my nosey neighbor is privy to the rumor mill. Word certainly travels at lightning speed in a population this size. The number of cursory glances tossed my way whenever I wander about confirms any suspicion. People talk. Whether or not their piqued interest in me involves Reeve remains a mystery I’m choosing to ignore. That doesn’t mean I can brush off his magnetism.

  Almost too automatically, my eyes seek him out again. That tug is leading me to believe a simple glance after these weeks without has shattered my restraint. I’m not sure many could resist. Reeve is wearing his trademark ball cap, which leaves him shrouded in more shadow. Several customers wait to buy what he’s selling. Stacks of fruits and veggies pile around him in all their organic glory. His stand looks like a one-stop farmer’s market. If I didn’t know him, I would swing by for a bundle of carrots and green beans. The fact that I do is what gives me pause.

  Reeve hasn’t noticed me yet. The steady flow of business is occupying him rather effectively, considering my inability to focus elsewhere. I contemplate spinning on my heel and striding toward the opposite end of Main Street. At that moment, his gaze locks onto mine, and his eyes widen the slightest bit. I suck in a sharp breath at the impact. Those blue pools quench my thirst as they reel me deeper into his tide. My hand lifts of its own accord in a choppy wave. He gives me one in return.

  “Totally busted,” Sondra murmurs.

  I jolt from the trance Reeve has captured me in. How long have I been gawking? “What?”

  Her gaze practically sparks with unspoken innuendos. “Why are you stalling?”

  That’s a good question. “I’m just, uh, gonna say hi quick.”

  She snorts. “You better. He looks about two seconds away from vaulting over that counter.”

  I flick my gaze to Reeve, finding his RDF firmly in place. “I highly doubt that.”

  “But why risk all those yummy veggies? Go on. I’ll meet you at the food corner in thirty.”

  “M’kay,” I relent.

  Reeve’s stare anchors mine as I erase the distance between us. He lifts a brow, and it’s all taunt, daring me to tuck tail.

  I set my jaw and move forward, refusing to relent. Once I’m standing in front of him, a slow smile tilts my lips. “Hey, stranger.”

  His laugh is rich and thick. “That’s a new one. I think I prefer farmer.”

  I give my eyebrows the slightest wiggle. “Let’s see how this conversation goes.”

  “All right.” Reeve scratches at the stubble coating his chiseled jaw. “Fancy seeing you here, city girl.”

  “What can I say? The charm of Bam is rubbing off on me. I’m settling in quite nicely.”

  He gives me a once-over that’s so slow I peek down to make sure no secret bits slipped from their confinement. “I can see that.”

  A sting of warmth tinges my cheeks. I scan the array of colorful produce arranged in front of him. “So, you do more than corn.”

  That gets another chuckle out of him. “Sure do.”

  “Is this an additional duty to your management role?”

  “Nah, totally separate. If I’m being entirely honest, this is my sister’s haul. I’m just filling in for her today.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  “Eh, family obligation and all that.”

  “I’m sure she appreciates it.”

  “And I’ll appreciate the double-sausage lasagna she promised. I can’t really complain about that.”

  “Sounds delicious.” My tone is all silk and smoke. I sound worse than the intro to a bad porno flick. It’s as if my subconscious is out to prove something.

  “I’ll let you know how it tastes.” His rumble is far too melodic to be innocent.

  Before the lines officially blur, I drop my gaze to his plump pickings. A crease forms in the center of my brow. “My thumb is the furthest shade from green, but isn’t it a bit early in the season for some of these crops?”

  Reeve nods, a grin stretching his mouth. “You catch on quick. My sister has a climate-controlled greenhouse in her backyard.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh, she’s legit. This is all from her garden?”

  “Yeah, what started as a hobby turned into a full-time job.”

  “That’s really cool,” I reply, my honesty ringing clear. “All I’m capable of growing are tomatoes.”

  “If you ever want to learn, I know a guy who’s pretty talented when it comes to soil.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. The idea of getting my hands dirty, with this man involved, sends an electric thrill through me. Friends can assist in getting one another filthy, right? “I might hold you to that.”

  A person strolls over and grabs a sack of potatoes. Reeve shares a few pleasantries before accepting his cash. I lean a hip against the makeshift wall and watch him work. He seems very much in his element. I find it almost surprising that he doesn’t do this gig more regularly. We’re alone again moments later, severing my internalizing.

  I rock on the rubber soles of my sandals. “Will you stick around for the entire afternoon?”

  “Seems that way,” he mutters.

  “Not very willingly?”

  Reeve offers a lazy shrug. “Eh, it’s a sacrifice to my freedom. Having you stop by helps with the boredom, so thanks for that. Tell me what’s the latest. Still wrangling children?”

  “Yep, but I only have one week left. They get the rest of the summer to themselves.”

  “About time.” His lips twitch.

  I roll my eyes. “Still managing crops like a boss?”

  “You betcha. Couldn’t pull me from those stalks with a skid loader.”

  I’m not entirely sure what that is, and my pride won’t stoop low enough for me to ask. “Except to fill in at Whomp.”

  “Ah, insider intel. You’re in good hands with Sondra.” His low tone hints at disappointment, but that can’t be right.

  “She’s great to have nearby.”

  “I’m glad you’re meeting folks.” He snaps his fingers with extra enthusiasm. “Speaking of that, have you been down to the lake yet?”

  The thought of a swim in this heat is decadent. “No, but I’m listening.”

  One of his dimples winks at me. “Next weekend, I’m going with a small group. Invite Bea or Sondra and tag along.”

  “Reminds me of a Girl Scout cookie.” I giggle.

  Reeve grunts. “My niece sells those. Fucking addicting.”

  My stomach gives a low grumble. “That brings back memories of my glory days in the trenches, trying to outsell my fellow troop members. I’m pretty sure those patch-covered vests are still stashed among my childhood possessions somewhere. My mom was so proud to be our leader.”

  He nods along with my words. “Jamie is the exact same. She lives for Gabby’s accomplishments.”

  “Your sister and niece?” He only mentioned having one sibling last time we spoke, but some estranged members of their family could be buried in the closet.

  “Yep, the one and only. Both are spoiled rotten. That’s wh
y I’m stuck in this booth, actually. The little princess has a dance recital,” he mutters.

  “No way. You’re missing it,” I gasp.

  He huffs. “My sister records every second. Don’t fret.”

  I flutter a palm to my chest in dramatic flair. “Thank goodness.”

  Reeve glares at me. “I’ll make sure to send you a copy.”

  “Sounds familiar.” I laugh. “How old is Gabby?”

  “Seven going on twenty-five.”

  “Oh, that’s a fun age.”

  Reeve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Says the professional educator. Me? Not so much. It’s all sass and tutus.”

  “Not a fan of tea parties?”

  “I can lift my pinky with the best of them. That doesn’t mean I enjoy sipping air.”

  A fizzy sensation spreads through me at the picture he paints. What I feared would be an awkward exchange is turning out to be the exact opposite. “You’re such a good uncle. Gabby must adore you.”

  “Not to toot my own horn, but—”

  “Oh, my blessed pearls. What do we have here?”

  I turn slightly to face the unknown voice merging into our bubble. An older woman—probably in her mid-sixties—studies me. Her silver hair is coiffed to perfection, matching the pressed power suit and ruby gloss meant to stand out in a crowd. This woman is making a statement among her denim-clad peers.

  Her stained lips spread in a wide smile. Reeve chokes on the end of what he intended to share. I wait quietly for what happens next. He clearly knows this lady. The mounting tension feels like a standoff of sorts.

  The stranger bounces her gaze between us as we remain silent. “Am I intruding?”

  “No,” he rushes to say. “Not at all.”

  She hums. “Excellent. You know I hate to be rude, Reeve.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Mayberry. And good afternoon to you. It’s a pleasure seeing you this fine Sunday.”

  “Same to you, dear.” Her words are meant for his ears, but she spares him just a flick of a glance. She’s barely taken her shrewd gaze off me. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to make a formal introduction. I’m Dorothy. Most refer to me as Dottie, though.”

  “Audria,” I return with a tight grin. Something about Reeve’s reaction to her doesn’t sit well in my churning belly.