Sutton ran a brush through her hair and touched up her lipstick in the hallway mirror, keeping an eye on the front door. The sound of a throaty car engine drew her to the window.
Wyatt pulled into her driveway. Before he even had a chance to get out, she was locking her door and smoothing the folds of a sundress she’d designed. White eyelet overlaid a simple matching sheath dress underneath. She’d changed three times, knowing everyone’s eyes would be on her.
Even though no one was there to note his boyfriend-like behavior, he came around the car to open the door for her. She slipped by close enough for her skirt to brush against him and to smell the hint of his piney cologne.
“You look real pretty.”
“Thanks. So do you.” She gave herself a mental slap upside the head. “I mean handsome. You look handsome.”
His laughter was good-natured, and instead of flushing with embarrassment, she returned his smile. He did look handsome in flat-front khakis and a light blue golf shirt. Not fancy, yet a drastic change from the work coveralls and the broken-in jeans she’d seen him in.
When she made a move to slip into the seat, he stopped her with a hand around her wrist. “That dress…”
“It’s one of mine. Is it not good enough? Should I change?” She fiddled with the folds.
“No.” The word came out forcefully before his tone normalized. “It reminds me of the dress you had on the day you fell in the river.”
Her nosediving confidence stabilized. “You remember?”
“I told you I remembered everything from when we were young.” His eyes were hooded, not giving anything away, but his voice had roughened.
“That was my favorite dress, and my dunk in the river ruined it. This was my vision of a grownup version.”
“I was a big jerk back then, but you have to know that I just wanted you to notice me.” He let go of her wrist, and she slid into the seat, a little stunned at his declaration. He shut her door and made his way around.
The drive to her parents’ house was less than ten minutes, but a fit of uncomfortable nerves had her searching for something to say. “The mayor’s going to be there. Our state representative too.”
“Good to know. I’ll try to avoid scratching my balls before I shake hands.” Although his voice was light, an edge had her turning in the seat.
She sighed, kicking herself for saying the wrong thing—again. “I’m sorry. I’m really nervous. Everyone’s going to be looking at us, wondering what’s true and what’s not. How are we going to pull this off?”
“You care too much what everyone thinks.” He shot a look from the road to her and back again. “All this stuff you’re worrying about isn’t important in the big scheme of things.”
Maybe he was right, but her life had been confined to the narrow path of everyone’s expectations. Breaking loose was like trying to escape a heavily guarded chain gang. All she knew right now was that she was glad to be going into the party on his arm and not alone. If that made her a selfish coward, then so be it.
Cars were already parked on both sides of the street on the approach to her parents’ house. Wyatt slowed, looking to both sides.
“You can go up to the front. Daddy saved a spot for me,” she said.
He pulled into the circular driveway and drove to the front of the house, pulling next to an SUV. “The judge does know I’m coming, right?”
She hummed and pulled the door handle, but only had one foot out when he drew out her name with a warning. “Sutton? Tell me your parents know I’m coming.”
“I mentioned that I might bring someone.” She had a feeling she would regret not giving her parents fair warning of the identity of her date. A “don’t ask, don’t tell” mandate about her personal life had been enacted.
“What about our agreement?”
If hurt that she had no right to welled up. He didn’t actually care about her. They weren’t even friends. He was here with her for one reason and one reason only—his family’s garage. “I’ll pull Daddy aside for a chat.”
He nodded, seemingly satisfied, and got out. She bypassed the double oak doors of the house and led him through a wrought iron gated arch with yellow jasmine flowers dripping from all sides.
In the twenty years her father had been an elected judge, his yearly pig pickings had become legend. What had started as a potluck for his first election campaign had turned into a fancier affair. This year’s was bigger and better with the election fast approaching.
Pit masters tended to two pigs in the ground at the back of the property, the smell mouthwatering, and caterers circulated with finger foods and drinks. A portable bar was set up on the patio, and chairs and tables were set up to overlook the wildflower-covered field down to the river. It made for a pretty picture.
She stepped from the cover of the jasmine into a shaft of sunlight that had her squinting. Was the initial ebb then increased buzz of conversation her imagination, or was everyone talking about her? Her ears burned.
Wyatt’s hand was strong around her waist as he leaned in to whisper, “How about a little alcoholic fortification?”
“Yes, please.”
He slid his hand to her lower back and led her toward the bar. Her mother held court under one of the giant, standing umbrellas that kept the guests from melting.
“What’s your poison?” he asked.
“White wine spritzer.”
“Coming right up.”
After he’d excused himself, her mother broke free from the couple who had commanded her attention and trekked in her direction. Sutton considered making a run for it, but her mother was there before she could decide which direction offered the best chance of escape.
“Hello, dear.” Her mother leaned in to glance her cheek against Sutton’s and give her an air kiss.
“Nice turnout.”
“Not bad.” Her mother surveyed the crowd with a critical eye before returning her attention to Sutton. “Fair warning: your situation is the talk of the party. How are you holding up?”
The sudden switch from hostess to mother brought tears to Sutton’s eyes. Yes, her mother could be controlling and overly protective, but only because she loved her. “I’m doing okay. Is Bree here?”
“She wisely sent her regrets yesterday.” Her mother’s voice was tart.
“What about Andrew?”
“Still coming last I heard. The man is either truly regretful and wants to make nice or oblivious.” Her mother did not suffer fools kindly, and it was obvious in her tone what she considered Andrew.
Wyatt returned and handed Sutton her wine spritzer, keeping what looked like a Jack and Coke. She took a too-big sip, the fizz burning her nose, and coughed.
Wyatt patted her back. After she regained her composure, he slid his hand down and curled it around her waist. Her mother’s expression sharpened.
“Mother, this is Wyatt Abbott.”
“Mrs. Mize. Nice to make your acquaintance. You have a lovely backyard.” He held out a hand and took her mother’s. For a moment, Sutton thought he was going to brush a kiss over the back like some old-school Southern beau, but he only held it for a moment before letting go. Wyatt didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by her mother, who was formidable in attitude if not size.
“We’re partial to the view.” Her mother gazed toward the river before snapping her focus to Wyatt. “You and your brothers own a garage over the river?”
“Yes, ma’am. Your husband has been a loyal patron for as far back as I can remember. We still do mechanical repairs, but our business is moving toward the restoration of classic cars. That’s our real passion.”
When it looked like her mother was going to launch into a game of Twenty Questions, her daddy’s voice boomed across the open space, calling for her mother. She excused herself and Sutton looked heavenward in silent thanks. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” apparently didn’t mean that her mother didn’t know exactly what was going on.
“You handled my mother perfectly. Very polite and charming.” She shuffled toward a wall of evergreens for both shade and cover.
“You sound surprised.” He was smiling, but a wrinkle appeared between his brows as he took a sip and surveyed the crowd. “I might be a Louisiana swamp rat, but my aunts made sure I learned how to speak to my elders.”
She shifted toward him and put her hand in the middle of his chest, waiting to speak until he looked at her. “You’ve been nothing but a gentleman. More so than any of my actual boyfriends.”
“Even Tarwater?”
“Especially him.”
“How do you mean?” His eyes turned flinty, and he seemed to bow up like a wild animal ready to defend itself. Or her.
She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his or remove her hand. No one had ever looked at her like this, and considering their arrangement, she didn’t know what to make of it. His heart beat against her palm, a solid, comforting rhythm that eased the beat of her own into slower and calmer waters.
“He wasn’t abusive or anything. But he never loved me. I was a means to an end. The end being taking my father’s judgeship when he retires.” Her horse wasn’t any higher. She’d let the relationship happen to her because it had made everyone else happy. The events were as much her fault.
“If that lump of humanity didn’t appreciate you, then his loss.” He wrapped his hand around her nape, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind her ear.
She wanted to believe him. Or at least wanted to believe that he thought she was special in some small way. Because despite her bias against him from when they were kids and her current situation, she was struck by the fact he was more than a little special himself, and he deserved to hear it.
“I think—”
“Wyatt Abbott, you old dog, didn’t expect to see you here,” a deep male voice came from behind her.
Wyatt dropped his hand, and she turned.
Sawyer Fournette, the husband of Regan Fournette, Cottonbloom, Mississippi’s state representative, approached with an easy grin and his hand out for a friendly shake and shoulder bump with Wyatt.
“How do you two know each other?” she asked, unable to keep an answering smile off her face.
“I was a couple of years behind Sawyer in school,” Wyatt said.
“Of course, I’d forgotten…” She let her thought stay unsaid.
“That we’re both swamp rats?” Sawyer’s grin took any bite out of the nickname some Mississippi residents used for their brethren on the other side of the river.
“How do you like living over here?” Wyatt asked.
“I’ve been assimilated.”
“You mean brainwashed? I heard you played for a Mississippi team last baseball season.” Wyatt’s tease spoke of a long-standing, comfortable friendship.
Sawyer made a scoffing noise. “Cade about hung me upside down over a gator’s nest for defecting, but it made Regan happy.” He glanced over his shoulder to where his wife chatted with a group of older ladies. Regan was casually sophisticated in a dress Sutton had sold her that spring and her customary heels, her strawberry blond hair twisted up.
Sawyer continued. “You and your brothers should team up with Cade. You boys would decimate all comers.”
“The garage takes up too much of our time and energy.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes in Sutton’s direction and thumbed toward Wyatt. “I tried to get our boy here to play for the high school baseball team. Three guesses what his excuse was—no time because of the family garage. Those Abbotts have oil running through their veins.”
While they chatted about their respective siblings and caught up on gossip about their extended families, Sutton studied Wyatt. He was built like an athlete, although she might have picked football as his sport.
Regan sent a friendly wave in Sutton’s direction and called for her husband. “Sawyer, I want you to meet someone.”
“She’s lucky I like shaking hands and kissing babies.” Sawyer’s gaze bounced between them. “Hope I’ll be seeing you at more stuff up here, Wyatt. Good to have some Louisiana friends to commiserate with at these political shindigs.”
“You make our parties sound boring.” Sutton’s faked outrage was ruined by a smile she couldn’t stop.
“You said it, not me.” Sawyer backed away, wagging his finger in their direction with a wink. “You need to take her out to a bonfire, Wyatt. Show her some real fun.”
“Good idea. See ya, bro.”
Sawyer turned and quickstepped to his wife, throwing an arm around her shoulders and hauling her in for a kiss on the temple. Their connection was obvious even from twenty paces. Her heart ached a little.
“Would you?” She transferred her attention back to Wyatt.
“Would I what?”
“Take me to a bonfire.”
His eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth. “If you want to go.”
Pre-dumped Sutton never would have seriously considered going. “You promised me fun, right? I’ve heard about them.”
He laughed softly. “It will never live up to what you’ve heard. Just like me.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve heard things about me, right? My guess is most of it’s either not true or greatly exaggerated.”
“So you’re not the greatest lover either side of Cottonbloom has seen in a half-century?” The flirt in her voice bubbled up unexpectedly.
His look of surprise was followed by booming laughter, and she couldn’t help but join him. Their agreement didn’t feel very businesslike. It was tinged with a burgeoning friendship, flirtation, and more than a slight attraction—at least on her part.
“Okay, you got me. That one’s true,” he said between guffaws.
“What’s so funny? I love a good joke.” Her daddy, Judge Mize, or simply the Judge, as he was known around most of Cottonbloom, hauled her to his side in a slightly sweaty hug.
He wasn’t physically imposing, but carried himself with the bluster of a bigger man and had a voice that could instill fear in lawyers and criminals alike. Her daddy liked to joke they were one and the same. With a full head of blond-silvery hair and the tanned faced of an outdoorsman, he reminded her of an aged lion, still prideful and strong and attempting to retain control of his territory, which included her.
She suppressed another spate of giggles and deflected. “Great turnout.”
“All the important players showed up.” He cast a glance over his shoulder before turning his assessing eyes on them. “Good to see you, Wyatt.”
Her father held out a hand. Wyatt took it, and her father seemed satisfied with the firmness of his grip. Her daddy counted himself an excellent judge of character, although after he gave Andrew his stamp of approval, his abilities must be called into question.
“Nice to see you somewhere beside the garage, sir. How’s the Escalade running?”
“Excellent. Not a bit of trouble with it.” Sutton’s daddy pursed his lips. “I’ve played golf with your brother Ford a few times now. I invited him this afternoon as a matter of fact.”
“Did you now?” Wyatt’s voice lowered and turned dry. “Can’t wait to see him.”
“Yes, indeed.” He wiped a white handkerchief over his forehead. “Sorry the deal with Tarwater’s car fell through. I could tell Ford was mighty disappointed.”
“No worries.” Wyatt glanced in her direction. “But if you know of anyone else looking to get their car restored, please send them in our direction.”
A half hour of flirting and having fun with Wyatt, and she had flubbed her end of the bargain. Forgotten, is more like it. “Yes, Daddy, could you point them in the Abbotts’ direction?”
“Sure, sure. Your father was a good mechanic and even better man. I know he’d be proud of you boys.” Her daddy clapped Wyatt on the shoulder, but his attention had shifted to something or someone else. “If you two will excuse me.”
A silence she interpreted as uncomfortable settled between them. “I’m sorry.”
“For what now?”
“I should have said something first. I’ll do better, I promise.”
He cocked his head and looked her over. She wasn’t sure what he saw, his expression giving nothing away. He shook his head and finished his drink, the ice tinkling. “You’d be happier if you worried less about making everyone else happy.”
His assessment was so unexpected and on-point, her knee-jerk response was automatic. “I’m happy.”
“That’s what you tell everyone—even yourself.”
She took a sip, but the wine had a hard time making it down her tightened throat. She’d lost her fiancé. And best friend. Deep down, she was lonely. And scared of taking chances.
“I love Abigail’s,” she said unable to mask the defensiveness in her voice.
“I sense a ‘but’ in there.” His perceptiveness stripped away the polite façade she usually maintained. Things she’d not told her sister or her parents or Andrew slipped out.
“I really wanted to get a fashion degree from Savannah College of Art and Design. Instead, I went to Cottonbloom College, majored in business, and lived at home. When my parents offered me the money to buy Abigail’s, I couldn’t turn it down.” She chuffed and shook her head. “That’s a lie. I wasn’t brave enough to break free. But, my parents love me.”
“I can see that they do.” His voice was understanding and soothing. “Believe me, we’re more similar than you can imagine.”
With an unexpected clarity, she recognized the truth behind his smiles. “Are you lonely too, Wyatt?”
His eyes flared wider, but he didn’t break their connection, the ebb and flow of feelings between them intense and difficult to define.
“Maybe.” His mouth may have uttered the equivocation, but his eyes said, “Yes.”
“But you have your brothers.”
“Lots of love there. But since Pop died, we’ve drifted apart. If I walked away tomorrow, Mack and Jackson would take up the slack and keep working. They wouldn’t miss me.”
“That’s not true.” A desperation tinged her denial.
If Wyatt disappeared tomorrow, she had no idea how his brothers would feel, but she would miss him. Terribly. It made no sense, but her life had stopped making sense the moment he’d pulled Bree’s panties from under Andrew’s seat.
She stumbled back onto a semi-logical path of thought. “You’re a natural salesman, you know. You put people at ease. You’re trustworthy. You should go around to car shows and drum up business for the garage.”
“Can’t. That’s Ford’s self-designated area of expertise. As he likes to remind us whenever he can, he’s the one with a marketing degree. The only one of us who went to college.” The bitter flavor in his voice was shocking when compared to his usual tone.
“Degree or not, people like you. Anyway, drumming up business doesn’t seem to be Ford’s top priority.”
“What do you mean?”
“Golf at the country club several afternoons a week. He’s on everyone’s guest list these days.” She gestured around them. “This lifestyle can be appealing to some people.”
Wyatt ran a hand over his jaw and caught what sounded like a string of four-letter words into his palm.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Maybe nothing. Maybe a nuclear warhead about to hit the garage.” He leaned so close, she could make out the start of his five o’clock shadow that her fingertips itched to explore.
“Can I trust you?”
The question jarred her out of the runaway train of her inappropriate thoughts. “Of course you can.”
“Has Ford put out any feelers to sell his part of the garage?”
The argument she’d interrupted days ago fell into place. “Surely, he can’t do that?”
“Nothing in the will forbids it. Pop assumed all of us loved the garage as much as he did, but Ford was never happy working there. Not sure why Pop couldn’t see that.”
She glanced toward her parents, standing side-by-side and entertaining their constituency. They’d had the best intentions when they’d convinced her to stay in Cottonbloom and later pushed her at Andrew. “Families are complicated.”
“Understatement of the millennium.” Worry drew his eyes into a squint and tightened his mouth.
She put her hand on the curve of his shoulder and shifted to stand in front of him so he would have to look at her. “I haven’t heard anything, but I’ll ask around.”
“That’d be great. I’d really appreciate it.”
“The least I can do considering…” She waved her hand around.
“Considering what?” His confusion seemed genuine.
“Don’t pretend this isn’t boring. You’d probably rather be anywhere else.” She rolled her eyes.
“Hey.” He waited until she met his gaze through her lashes. “Doesn’t matter where we are, spending time with you is no hardship. If things had been different, I would have asked you out for real in a heartbeat.”
Her world tipped and realigned itself along a new axis.
* * *
His confession hung between them. Yes, she was the sweetest, sexiest thing he had ever crossed paths with, but telling her wasn’t something he should do. Not with their arrangement and her recent heartbreak coloring everything—and not in a happy rainbow kind of way. She would assume he was manipulating her for his own gain just as Tarwater had done.
As if summoned from Wyatt’s damning thoughts, Tarwater stepped through the jasmine bower in seersucker pants with a grin that rivaled a catalog model’s. For once though, Wyatt was thankful for the interruption. He put his arm around her shoulders and hauled her tight against him. He had a part to play, after all.
“Tarwater has arrived. Alone.”
“Mother told me Bree sent her regrets.”
Wyatt hummed. “Maybe she has a heart after all. Unlike your ex. Who—don’t look—is headed this way.”
The guests in their general vicinity all seemed to strain toward the three of them.
Wyatt’s cheeks were growing sore from his fake smiling. He debated on extending a hand, but if Tarwater rejected it, he didn’t want to escalate the flames of gossip. He settled on a polite, “Afternoon, Tarwater.”
“I’m surprised to see you, Andrew.” Sutton’s voice was cold and calm. Wyatt wanted to give her a high five, but confined his response to a smirk in Tarwater’s direction.
“Only natural I should be invited. I’m one of the Judge’s biggest supporters.” Tarwater fiddled with the rolled-up cuffs of his loose white linen shirt. “Although lately I’ve been wondering if the county needs some new blood in the judicial branch.”
The silence that settled after his announcement was on par with the countdown to a bomb exploding.
“Is that a threat?” Although anger heated her words, a smile remained on Sutton’s face. “You’d never beat Daddy.”
“Your little indiscretion has garnered me countywide sympathy.” Amusement sharpened his features in a feral, unattractive way. “Still time for me to get on the ballot.”
“My indiscretion. That’s rich.” She huffed a laugh.
Tarwater looked like a tomcat ready to pounce. “Are you ready to admit that you and Abbott here made the whole thing up?”
She slipped an arm around Wyatt’s waist and notched herself even closer into his side. “We didn’t make anything up.”
Wyatt heard the slight waver in her voice. Maybe that was her tell, like his twitching eyebrow. He laid a kiss on top of her head. “Sorry, Tarwater. We’re together. And happy. Where’s Bree?”
Tarwater made a pfft noise and walked off as if they weren’t worth his time.
“Could he actually give your dad a run for the judgeship?” Wyatt asked, keeping his gaze on the back of his enemy’s blond head.
“I don’t know,” she said with a vague worry that in turn worried him. “He’s young and successful and handsome.”
“You forgot fake and dishonest.” Tarwater stood with a group of men who together looked like an ad for some preppy clothes catalog. The kind of catalog Wyatt ripped apart and used to soak up oil stains. “And he’s not that good looking.”
“You sound jealous.” Her voice was singsongy, and the spot she poked underneath his ribs had him squirming away with laughter. “Oh my stars, you’re ticklish. I never would have guessed a big, sexy dude like you would be ticklish.”
Her words punched away his laughter, and he grabbed both her wrists to stop her jabs. “You think I’m sexy?”
She pinched her lips together before she muttered, “Maybe.” But her eyes said, “Yes.”
He wanted to lean down and kiss her. Not to prove something to Tarwater or Cottonbloom, but because he wanted to—desperately.
A hand fell on his shoulder and dug into muscle. He let go of Sutton and whirled. Ford stood there with murder in his eye. Or at least the promise of a good beating.
“What are you doing here?” Ford didn’t bother to mask his exasperation and annoyance. He’d fit right in with Tarwater and his ilk in light-colored dress pants, a pink button down, and a blue-checked bow tie.
Wyatt forced a smile. “That’s no way to greet your baby brother.”
“Haven’t you done enough by losing the Camaro? I’m here to clean up your mess.”
“It wasn’t my fault.” The denial sprung out before he could stop it. Ford had worked his way under Wyatt’s skin like a rash when they were kids, and he had never found a cure.
“Whatever.” Ford pulled his mouth into something resembling a smile. “Hello, Sutton. Where’s the Judge?”
She stepped between them, facing Ford with her hands on her hips. “Around. And busy.”
Wyatt almost smiled at the shooing tone of her voice. Was she trying to protect him?
“Can I talk to you? Alone.” Ford bored his stare over Sutton’s head and into him.
“Sure. Give me a sec.” Wyatt waited until Ford stepped out of earshot, let out a breath, and tilted toward Sutton. “You gonna be okay if I leave you here?”
She grabbed his hand. “Are you going be okay?”
His heart warmed like it had been wrapped in an electric blanket. He leaned in to brush his lips against her cheek, unable to find the words to answer her.
Ford had a drink in hand by the time Wyatt joined him. Ford nudged his head, and Wyatt followed him out into the field of flowers.
“I like your clip-on bow tie. Real suave.” Wyatt kept his voice teasing. No reason to get Ford more riled up than he already was. “The Camaro wasn’t my fault, you know.”
Some of the fight went out of Ford. “I know. I heard what happened. It’s frustrating, you know?”
“Mack said the garage could weather the loss.”
Ford kicked at the ground, uprooting a flower. “It’s all about the garage surviving.”
His bitter sarcasm wasn’t anything new, but Wyatt studied him with fresh eyes. He looked like hell. Dark smudged under his bloodshot eyes, and new lines bracketed his mouth. He’d always been leaner than the rest of them, but now he bordered on downright skinny. Was it stress or something else?
Wyatt squeezed Ford’s shoulder. “Are you okay, bro?”
Ford killed his drink in one go. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like shit.”
“At least I have nice clothes. That the best you could come up with?” Ford waved a finger over Wyatt’s khakis and plain golf shirt.
As insults went, it was lame. Ford wasn’t even trying, which planted more worry. “I could help you.”
“Don’t need your help.” Ford’s shoulders squared. “Give me a week, and I’ll bag an even bigger project for the garage. What will Mack have to say then?”
“Probably ‘good job.’ Unless I’m mistaken, bringing in business is kind of your job, right?” Wyatt kept his voice light. He wouldn’t win any confidences if Ford was on the defensive.
Ford ignored him and tipped his glass back, but only ice remained.
Wyatt continued. “Listen, what you said the other day about selling out … You didn’t mean that, did you?”
“Nah. Just trying to get a rise out of Mack.” Ford didn’t meet his eyes, making it difficult to get a read on truth or lie.
Someone Wyatt didn’t recognize greeted Ford like a long-lost frat brother. Wyatt slipped away, his talk with Ford doing nothing to alleviate the foreboding feeling following the family like smog.
He scanned the crowd for Sutton and spotted her in conversation with an older lady. Sutton’s smile was warm and genuine. As if she sensed him watching her, she glanced up before he could play things cool.
Her smile didn’t fall but changed into something more complicated. Something that tangled the slipknot holding them together. He shook off the feeling when her father called for everyone’s attention.
His stump speech was followed by food and lots of it. Wyatt stayed by Sutton’s side, but he was little more than a curiosity to the stream of people he was introduced to. By the time dusk was on them, his head hurt from the sun and constant smiling. He retreated to the field and rotated his jaw.
He startled when Sutton slipped her hand in his elbow. “When I was a kid, I would hide in the flowers, pretend I couldn’t hear Mother calling, and tell myself stories about the things I saw in the clouds. But if I was feeling really brave, I would go all the way to the river and look for skipping stones.”
Lightning bugs blinked amongst the wildflowers. It was hard to believe the same river had unknowingly connected them. “Jackson and I used to do that too. We’d fish or catch frogs or swim.”
“You had a built-in best friend.” A hint of wistfulness had him shifting to see her. The orange glow of the sun glinted off her blond hair and made her eyes sparkle.
“The very best. You had a sister.”
“We’re closer now, but her nose was always in a book. She didn’t need a friend. I was alone a lot except when I was with—” Pain that looked almost physical in nature flashed over her face. The thought of losing Jackson made Wyatt’s stomach crimp.
“You miss Bree,” he said.
“Crazy, right?” She picked a small purple flower on a long stem and plucked the petals off. “I’ve actually picked up my phone to call her before I remember.”
“Hey.” When she didn’t look up at him, he stopped the flower carnage with one hand and took her chin in his other, forcing her to look at him. “You can call me anytime, day or night.”
“Are you my friend?”
Friend didn’t seem the right label. He wasn’t sure what they were becoming. The beauty of her eyes put him into a trance-like state. A woman called Sutton’s name and shook him free of whatever spell had been cast. She appeared just as dazed and glanced toward the river. If she suggested they run through the field and to the river, he’d grab her hand and go.
“Mother asked if I would stay and help clean up,” she said finally. “You don’t have to wait around.”
The disappointment was sharp and unexpected. “I guess that’s my cue to skedaddle.”
“Thanks for coming with me.”
“Sure.” If this had been a real date, he would have kissed her. But he had agreed he wouldn’t do that again. He waited for her to suggest another event or date. She didn’t. “I’ll be seeing you around?”
When all she did was nod and watch him back away, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned, passing under the arbor and toward the cold comfort of his car.