Chapter Four
A swell of sugary-sweet air greeted Violet as she stepped inside the bakery. She inhaled and held in the aroma, the way a good addict would do. The only way she’d survive getting her feet back underneath her without those feet having to carry around extra pounds was to inhale instead of indulge.
She finished typing her response in the Bridesmaid Crew bubble. Leah and Amanda were most active, but Camille, Alyssa, Morgan, and Christy responded here and there.
Correction, they were her thing, but her friends had already been so worried when they’d found out about Benjamin’s wedding that she didn’t want to fess up to that. Not only because they’d stress, but they might think they should confront her ex, and they’d damaged each other enough.
Violet sniggered at her own joke and withdrew the paint swatches she’d picked up from Martin’s Trading Post, along with a pen. She placed the gradient color cards against the formerly white wall of the bakery, checking which shades best fit the lighting and wooden floors.
The clang of pans meant Maisy was already baking, and since Violet had narrowed down the paint options to three, she headed toward the kitchen. “You’ll never guess who I saw running in the park with a gaggle of dogs. After yesterday, I’m planning on avoiding him at all costs, so I totally darted into an alleyway like I was running from the paparazzi, but—”
Violet froze in place, her pulse thumping too hard at her temples. Please, please let me be dreaming.
“But what?” Ford asked from his spot in front of the oven. He wiped an arm across his forehead, and of course the move lifted his T-shirt enough to display a stripe of toned abs and a line of dark hair that led to…well, where hair like that led to. “I’m interested in hearing the rest of that story.”
Maisy stood behind him, her cartoonishly wide eyes making it clear that yes, this was as awkward as it felt and fully warranted the flush of heat. “Ford came by early to check on the oven and ensure it was working properly. Isn’t that nice?”
Mr. Nice Guy grinned. “Pleased to be of service. Violet, maybe I can help you with whoever you’re hiding from. I’m real good at hide and seek.”
“Wrong,” Violet muttered. “You’re not very good at the hiding part. Not only are you a big dude, you’re freaking everywhere.”
His grin widened.
And like this morning, when Violet had seen his long, muscular legs eating up the distance, his pack of adorable dogs in tow, she decided to pretend Ford wasn’t there.
She held the three starred swatches up to Maisy. “I’d like the bakery to be as lovely as your pastries, but I also don’t want the colors to overwhelm the desserts.” She fanned the cards so the stars lined up and pointed at the varying shades. “This is what I’m thinking of going with for the accent colors.”
Maisy slapped flour from her palms. “As you so nicely pointed out, I’m no good at the design thing, so seriously, whatever you think.”
“Want my opinion?” a rumbly voice asked from right behind Violet, and she jumped, then gritted her teeth at his low chuckle. Why had she thought about this guy way too many times since yesterday evening?
“Nah.” She gave his outfit a pointed look. “Matching isn’t your strong suit.”
His jaw dropped, but then he laughed, the noise cracking the ice around her heart.
Honestly, his outfit was like him. Sporty. Male. Something she shouldn’t be staring at.
The door to the bakery chimed, and Violet couldn’t volunteer fast enough to go welcome the first customers of the day.
“What can I help you with?” Violet asked, plunking the paint swatches on the counter and addressing the three women who’d walked inside.
An older lady with gray and white curls stepped forward, a childlike excitement on her face as she surveyed the treats behind the glass. “We are here for cake tasting, but while we wait, I would love some brownie bites.”
Violet tried to place the accent. German, maybe? Although that didn’t seem quite right.
“Lucia, you’re well aware you can’t have those,” the brunette woman behind her said with a harrumph. “Your blood sugar is going to spike high enough with the cake tasting as it is.”
Violet scanned the treats, searching for the label she’d seen on her side of the counter yesterday. “Oh, we have these brownie bites that are—”
“Absolutely delicious.” The statement came from the youngest in the group, the one around Violet’s age. Her dark ponytail was threaded through a blue and orange AU cap, her face makeup-free and flawless. Hardly fair when Violet needed a half dozen products and palettes to appear that fresh and perky. “But my nonna is cutting her sugar.”
She raised her eyebrows, obviously trying to convey something to Violet, but she was lost.
Nonna. That’s Italian, right?
Lucia’s forehead crinkled as she studied Violet. “Why I don’t know you? I know everyone.”
“Nonna, that’s hardly the way to introduce yourself.” The girl in the baseball cap placed a hand on her chest. “Hi, I’m Addie Murphy, the bride-to-be. This is my feisty grandmother, Lucia, and my mother, Priscilla.”
“Violet,” she said. It seemed like they were waiting for more, but she wasn’t planning on spilling her life story simply because they stared at her like they thought she would.
“Okay, Priscilla,” Lucia said. “You delivered me and have proof that Addison no let me eat too much sugar. Now, since you not a bridesmaid or a flower girl like I am, shoo.”
Flower girl? Violet was overly experienced in all things wedding-related, so it took her a second to readjust her assumption. And she simply adored the idea of the firecracker of a woman walking down the aisle and tossing petals.
“After I pick up the groceries, I’ll swing back by to pick her up.”
Lucia linked her elbow with Addie’s. “Addison bring me home, won’t you, dear?”
“Sure, Nonna. As you’ve discovered and exploited, I have trouble saying no to you.”
Priscilla’s steps slowed, and Addie raised her voice.
“Except when it comes to sugar and high-cholesterol foods, because that’s for your own dang good.”
Seemingly satisfied, Priscilla exited the bakery but paused to hold the door for a blond southern-belle type. Retro and classic with a modern edge and a bright pink lip Violet wished she could pull off. Seriously, was being attractive a town requirement?
The woman breezed inside, her heels clacking against the wooden floor. “Sorry I’m late. My car wouldn’t start, so I drove Will’s truck and— Oh, shoot. My binder and the magazines were in the trunk of my car.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Addie said before turning to Violet. “This is Lexi, one of my bridesmaids. My sister lives out of state, so we’re just waitin’ for one more.”
Maisy came around the corner, wiping her hands on the apron at her waist. “Actually, your other bridesmaid is already here. He came early to check on my oven.”
Great. Violet hadn’t even started painting, and her sister was acting like the fumes were getting to her. The check on my oven also sounded overtly sexual, especially since Ford had followed her out of the kitchen and was smirking like he’d pulled one over on all of them.
He winked at Violet, and she crossed her arms with a huff. If he thought that was all it took to win her over, he had another think coming.
He strolled past her and rounded the counter to hug Lucia, who greeted him with a smacking kiss on his cheek. He embraced the beautiful blonde next and finished off by fist-bumping the bride-to-be.
“Ah, so you’ve met my bridesmaid-slash-best-man,” Addie said. “Or did we decide to go with bro of honor?” Her head cocked a couple more degrees. “Dude of honor?”
Ford shrugged his big shoulders. “I’m not picky. And while I’m lost with the rest of the wedding-planning stuff, I’m fully qualified for cake tasting.” He twisted his wrist and glanced at his watch. “I’ve only got an hour before I have to be back home, though. No rest for the wicked and all that.”
Violet gawked at the scene before her, struggling to process. Every time she visited this town, she discovered a new layer of bizarre. Apparently nontraditional was the new traditional.
Which, honestly, she hadn’t expected from a place she’d thought time had forgotten. If she hadn’t already made her mind up about Uncertainty, she might even find it refreshing.
“Mind helping me grab the samples?” Maisy asked, nudging Violet’s arm.
“As long as you don’t need me to bake them,” Violet said with a self-deprecating laugh.
Once the various samples were placed in the center of the largest table, Violet moved aside. Time to finish drawing up plans for these walls.
Her trusty notebook served as a tiny shield and item to cling to, but the people who filtered in and out of the bakery—and the conversation from the wedding party—kept snagging her curiosity.
If Violet hadn’t heard the words “bridesmaid-slash-best-man,” she’d assume Addie and Ford were the betrothed couple. They were obviously close, yet there was something lighter than romance. As they mmmed over the samples, they snickered, verbally jabbed, and shoved each other’s shoulders, as if they were casual observers instead of choosing one of the mainstays of a wedding.
“Are you two even paying attention?” Lexi asked, and both Ford and Addie shot up in their seats, like two kids who’d gotten in trouble at school. The blonde lowered the notepad she’d pulled from her Louis Vuitton purse and muttered about the almond cake.
Ford glanced over his shoulder in Violet’s direction. Too late, she spun to face the wall, fighting the urge to bang her head on it, since he’d caught her staring. It was about the group dynamic, not him.
Not that she hadn’t admired the way he kept sliding extra bites toward Lucia, his easy laugh, and his effortless charm. But that just meant he had a conniving side that drew women in so he could later screw them over.
Total player. I can smell it from a mile away.
Now.
Naively, she’d thought the fact that she and Benjamin had been in a committed relationship negated his player qualities. Like how he’d check out women whenever they were out and about. She’d written it off as him being a typical male who couldn’t get his ogle under control. Now she realized he’d never stopped searching for someone prettier and better than she was.
Sometimes he’d go a whole week without acknowledging her, besides to criticize her absentmindedness. Eventually, she would get upset, and then he’d apologize and make a grand gesture that lulled her into a false sense of security.
Which is why I’m done with men in general.
No more falling for their tricks. Nope, nope, nope.
Violet busied herself with the multicolored wall stickers she’d discovered on Etsy. She’d originally planned to buy stencils, but she’d found vinyl watercolor dots that were bright, whimsical, and the perfect size.
“Excuse me…” she heard, followed by a gravelly, “Her name’s Violet.”
“Excuse me, Violet.” Out of the corner of her eye, manicured fingernails flashed, signaling it’d come from the blond bridesmaid. “Could I ask your opinion on something?”
Violet slowly pivoted toward the table with the wedding party. Four sets of eyes were on her, but for some reason, her gaze went to the one male pair. In this light, she couldn’t tell if they were hazel or green, and why did that matter?
She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be. Just ask Ford—baking and I don’t mix.”
Damn it. Why had she set herself up for an embarrassing retelling of yesterday’s disaster?
Lexi rose from her chair and grabbed Violet’s hand. “Don’t worry.” She guided her into the seat next to her. Which, as her shoddy luck would have it, was also next to Ford. “I just need another female perspective. While Addie is technically female, she’s missing the part of her brain that cares about decorations, dresses, and ensuring the cake is the pièce de résistance it should be.”
While this Lexi chick was fancier than Violet ever would be, she agreed on that point. Yes, cake made any celebration better, but a wedding cake symbolized a commitment to provide for each other. Cutting from the bottom tier signified longevity.
Addie slumped back in her chair, legs spread wide. “She’s not wrong. I’ve decided on white chocolate with raspberry cream, but as far as style goes, I’m lost. When it comes to cake, my goal is to take a bite ASAP, not note how fancy it is. And big extravagant cakes scare me because I just know I’ll bump into the table, knock the whole thing over, and ruin everything.”
“In this case, you’ll be the bride, so people would forgive you.” Lexi shot Addie a semi-stern expression. “Don’t you dare knock it over, though—that’s not the goal, and I can’t believe I have to even say that, but I feel like I do.”
“Yeah.” Ford flicked Addie on the arm. “Stop trying to sabotage your own wedding. But if you do happen to knock it over, I’ll declare a food fight, and we’ll turn the party right around. It’ll be like sixth grade all over again, when you pelted Derek Wheeler with your apple for saying girls couldn’t throw as good as boys.”
Addie snorted. “I got in so much trouble, but my detention didn’t last nearly as long as his black eye.”
The full glare Lexi aimed at the pair made Violet want to slink away but didn’t seem to bother Ford in the least.
Addie flashed an apologetic grimace. “Sorry. Seriously, I couldn’t care less about what the cake looks like. I’m sure whatever Maisy makes will be awesome.”
“See what I mean about needing another female perspective?”
Violet couldn’t help but glance at the grandmother.
“I am also female,” Lucia said. “But I say whatever makes cake easiest to sneak underneath my daughter-in-law’s nose, and apparently that’s no an acceptable answer.” The legs of her chair scraped the floor. “Speaking of smuggling, I gonna go get the brownie bites before my parole officer checks in.”
For an older lady, she certainly could hustle. She rushed over to the cash register and began pointing at the treats, and Brooke, the nineteen-year-old who worked part-time at the bakery, gathered them into a box.
Lexi sighed. “If Maisy wasn’t so busy, I’d ask her for help with my confounded wedding crew. If only I hadn’t left my binder in my car, I’d at least have examples. Anyway, could you weigh in? For instance, how many weddings have you been to where the cake hasn’t had more than one tier? Addie was like, why not just have a giant flat cake? Like it’s a barbecue or someone’s retirement party.”
Way too aware of the guy on her other side and how heavy his gaze pressed against her, Violet licked her lips. “Admittedly, I’ve been to a lot of weddings—in fact, I’ve been a bridesmaid seven times. And every cake has been a tiered work of art. Personally, I love seeing the way a couple expresses themselves in so many different ways, from the cake to the decor to the bridesmaids dresses and tuxes and gah, the wedding dress.”
Tingles erupted, rushing through her entire body, the overly romantic girl she used to be tiptoeing to the forefront. “There are so many options and variations, and yet, each bride always manages to pick the perfect combination for herself. You can see how amazing she feels, too, not only about the dress and the setting but committing to the one special person who loves her inside and out.”
Oops. Violet had gotten caught up in the dozens of ceremonies she’d witnessed in person, through her camera lens, and on the pages of magazines, momentarily forgetting that she was no longer obsessed with planning the perfect wedding.
She’d given that up. Now she was on the aisleless straight and narrow. A single pringle for life.
The string of pink pearls Lexi clutched paired perfectly with her aquamarine dress. “Praise the Lawd, someone who actually gets it. Seriously, I love you…” She scrunched up her eyebrows. “Violet, was it?”
Based on Ford’s fidgeting, Violet had scared him with her passionate spiel. Had he scooted away from her, or was that her imagination? Either way, spooking him would only be beneficial when it came to her no-guy decree.
So instead of diminishing what she’d already said, she thought of the four-page spread of wedding cakes in her binder. “Yes, and I think I can help even more.” The least she could do was lend a hand, since Lexi was practically planning the event solo. “Do you want the cake to be one texture or different textures for each tier? What about a topper? Lately I’ve been digging floral bouquets with flowers cascading down to the bottom. What flowers have you chosen?”
Lexi tapped her glittery gold pen to her notebook. “What are you thinking for flowers, Addie?”
“Yes,” Addie said. At Lexi and Violet’s mutual gaping, she wrinkled her nose. “Is that not the right answer?”
Violet smiled, attempting to undo the shock she’d aimed Addie’s way. “Customarily, a bride selects flowers she likes. Or she might choose based on the colors she’s decided on.”
Addie bit her thumbnail. “Um, I don’t have colors picked out, either.”
“No worries. What kind of flowers do you like?”
Addie shrugged and looked at Ford, who also shrugged. Watching their interactions from this angle, Violet realized they didn’t act like a couple at all. More like siblings—not that she would really know what that entailed.
“Come on,” Lexi coaxed, stretching her hand across the table to cover Addie’s. “Surely you’ve spotted flowers somewhere and thought, I enjoy those.”
“Yellow dandelions make me happy.”
“Then they turn white and you can blow them and make wishes and shit,” Ford added.
Lexi’s eye twitched, but her smile remained plastered on her face. “Those are weeds. Try again.”
Addie wound the end of her ponytail around her finger. “Ooh, how about those tiny white ones that open in the morning? They have a hint of pink or purple stripes inside. I accidentally mangled a patch the last time we played Fugitive.”
“Are you talking about morning glories? Because those are weeds, too, my dear.” Lexi rubbed a couple of fingers across her forehead. “Let me guess, you want a weed bouquet now.”
Addie giggled. “Weed. That’ll be one way to keep everyone nice and mellow at the ceremony and reception.”
“I vote yes,” Ford said. “After all the pranks we’ve pulled on the fine citizens of our town, that’s about the only way they’ll relax and enjoy themselves during this shindig.”
“Excellent point. Though we might have to put a barbwire fence around the cake in case they get the munchies before it’s time. What decor is that? Farm chic?”
“Prison-yard love, I think.”
“Dude, later we’re gonna have to have a talk about what prison-yard love means.” Addie patted Ford’s knee. “Here’s a hint and a tip all in one: don’t drop the soap.”
The two of them devolved into laughter, flowers no longer on their radar.
Lexi swept her arm toward the duo. “Do you see what I’m dealing with? A bride who doesn’t care about decorations or flowers and her man of honor, who is as clueless about wedding stuff as she is.”
“I told you to go ahead and choose whatever on my behalf,” Addie said, a pinch of offense in the words.
“I thought you’d change your mind once we dove in. The entire un-stoned town is going to be there, and if I’m going to do the majority of the planning, I at least need a sounding board. Asking you two for advice is like talking into a void.”
Addie wiped at the tears her laughter had caused. “Sorry, Lexi. You’re amazing for taking this on, and I’d be totally lost without you, so please don’t let my lack of girliness send you running. I’ll do better. I promise.”
She nudged Ford with her elbow.
“Yeah, me, too.” Ford followed up his statement by nudging Violet.
She twisted his way, her instincts failing to remind her she wasn’t going to look directly at him until it was too late. Her mouth went dry—her memory of his face up close didn’t do it justice. Unlike a lot of the guys in Pensacola, his beard wasn’t perfectly groomed, but untamed, a couple days’ growth from out-of-control. One corner of his lips tipped a smidge higher than the other, as if he always had a smile at the ready.
Hello, do not look at his lips!
Recalling the nudge that’d made her focus way too much on him, she asked, “What? How can I do better when I barely got here?”
“Where’s my nonna? She’d at least have an opinion on flowers—she still sneaks over to the neighbors’ yard late at night to water the ones she planted when they were out of town.” Addie surveyed the front of the bakery, but Lucia was no longer there. “Oh great, I’ve lost her. I bet you anything she went to the diner to check if anyone would let her order a burger and fries. My mom is seriously going to kill me.”
With everyone distracted, Violet decided to take her leave. “Well, sounds like you’re getting it all figured out.” She scooted her chair away from the table, already halfway out of it. “I should get back to work. I’m planning out the bakery remodel and—”
“Come on, Violet,” Ford said, as though they’d known each other for years instead of hours. He placed his hand over the one she had on the table and her heart thump, thump, thumped. “Help a couple of guys and one desperate wedding planner out.”
For a second, she was confused, but then she figured out he was counting Addie as a guy.
“What I should’ve mentioned is that I’m a recovering bridesmaid.” Talking wedding options and showing proof of how many she’d gathered were entirely different things, and there was no way in hell she could show Lexi and Addie her binder with Ford there.
More than that, it’d be too painful, and she never should’ve sat down in the first place.
The alarm in her head wailed, behind as usual.
Recovery was a slippery slope—one she was way too close to sliding down headfirst.
“How’s it going over here?” Maisy asked as she approached the table. “I’m so sorry I don’t have a look book. I’ve only done a couple of weddings so far, but if you have a picture, I can make it.”
The apologetic note in her sister’s voice dug at Violet.
“I feel so unprepared,” Lexi said. “Maybe I should drive home and come back.”
“No,” Addie and Ford both said at the same time, and Addie elaborated with, “I don’t want you to go to all that trouble when I should be able to handle something so simple.”
Part of Violet wanted to suggest they search up cakes on their phones, but service in town was slow and spotty, and it was hard to make a solid decision on thumbnail images.
The chime over the door sounded again, and Maisy turned to greet her customers. Saturdays were busy, and right now the best way she could help her sister was by doing the last thing she wanted to.
Why me? “Okay, fine. I’ll be right back with something that might help.”
Bright side spin: if her binder could be used for good, maybe it’d help her let go of everything it stood for.
…
Damn, she smells nice.
The scent of Violet’s perfume lingered in the air, and Ford might’ve watched her walk out of the bakery a bit too closely.
What on earth had she meant with that recovering bridesmaid remark? She’d made it sound as if wearing colorful dresses and holding a bouquet was an addiction she needed to kick. Didn’t mean she wasn’t engaged, and if she loved weddings as much as her spiel suggested… Yikes.
With her gone, it was easier to concentrate, but it wasn’t like he suddenly became a wedding-cake expert. Unless being sure he could eat a whole one himself was useful. To further complicate matters, he was growing more and more aware of the time.
Ford needed to get going on his day, but he didn’t want to hurt Lexi’s or Murph’s feelings. Addie would understand that he was on a tight puppy-training schedule, but she was the one who’d always been there for him. The one who listened without judgment when he told her about rough jobs and confessed that, once in a while, they got to him.
It’d taken months to open up to her about the aftermath of the last hurricane and everything that’d happened when he went down to the gulf. Of course Addie had told him he shouldn’t blame himself. She’d reassured him that people had to rest now and again and that anyone could’ve made the same mistake, but he couldn’t let himself off that easily.
The chime on the door sounded, and Violet strolled inside.
While yesterday he’d found her disheveled appearance a little too captivating, today she was less harried, her brown hair hanging in loose waves around her shoulders. Her shirt was about as red as her face had been when she’d come into the kitchen talking about hiding from him. He was still a big fan of the yoga pants, but her snug jeans also displayed her figure rather nicely.
As she moved closer, he caught sight of the glittery purple object in her hands. The very same item she’d snatched from him in the alleyway.
She sat between him and Lexi and plopped the binder on the table. Then she moved her fingers along the tabs, mumbling until she reached the middle section. A page slipped free as she opened the book, and she quickly tucked it underneath the back cover. “Here you go. Several cakes to check out.”
Ford glanced from her to the page titled my dream wedding cakes. “Wow. That’s…intense. Like obsessive-serial-killer level, but for cakes you plan to murder.”
“Ford. Be nice.” Shep’s wife placed a hand on Violet’s shoulder. “Ignore him. What he meant to say is thank you.”
No, what he meant was holy shit, she has her entire wedding planned out. And he shouldn’t have touched her hand or teased her in the kitchen, and why did he hate the idea of her being already taken so much?
Bracing herself on her forearms, Addie leaned across the table. “Those are gorgeous. I see what you mean about the flowers, although purple isn’t really my color.” She spun the binder her way. “While I get your aversion to dandelions, Lex, I do like yellow. What about daisies and sunflowers—are they weeds? I realize they’re out in the fields, but I want the decorations to match how I feel about marrying Tucker: happy.”
Without warning, Lexi launched herself at Violet, arms winding around her neck. The legs of the chair wobbled from the impact, and Ford placed his hand on the chair back so they wouldn’t go down. While he wouldn’t mind seeing the two women plastered together on the floor, no one was going to get a concussion on his watch.
“Violet, you’re a miracle worker,” Lexi said, releasing her hold on the woman next to him but not relinquishing her personal space. “She picked a color and a flower. Or flowers, as the case may be, but at long last I have something to work with.”
Another glossy paper fell from the binder as Addie flipped the page. She excitedly tapped a picture in the middle. “This is the one. A cake like this, but with daisies.”
“And a cake.” Lexi’s voice came out at an octave he’d previously thought only dogs could hear. When she sat back in her own seat, Violet appeared a bit shell-shocked, but a smile slowly spread across her face.
Lexi latched onto Addie’s arm and dragged her toward the bakery counter while calling Maisy’s name.
A few silent seconds ticked by, and then Violet haughtily lifted her chin. “See, I’m not obsessed or too intense. I’m a miracle worker.”
“My apologies,” he deadpanned.
Arms tightly crossed her chest, emphasizing her cleavage. Before he could rein himself in, his fingers twitched with the urge to grab her chair and tug her closer. Ask what was up with that ridiculous binder, and why didn’t she have a ring on her finger?
“Why do you sound so sarcastic?” she asked. “Yes, you met me on a super shitty day—”
“The shittiest, I believe you called it. Sounded like it was from more than starting that fire, too.” There he went, poking the beast instead of deescalating the situation.
Her nostrils flared. “Right. On both counts, actually, although I’d rather we pretend the fire never happened.”
“I’m fine with that. Not sure I can say the same for the oven.”
She exhaled as if he’d taken up every ounce of her patience—which, fair. “The point is, I’m not normally like that. All flustered and creating a disaster in my wake. I’d even go so far as to say I’m relatively levelheaded, especially considering everything I’ve been through.”
Ford jerked his chin at the binder. “I’m assuming the reason you hid from me this morning and made that recovering bridesmaid remark is because you’re engaged and get to be the star now?”
Violet’s mouth hung open for a beat, and then she blinked and shook her head. “No, nope, and no.”
His lungs contracted with an odd amalgamation of relief and apprehension, as if he were facing down a bear and couldn’t decide if he should marvel at the sight or slowly back away with his hands up.
Though her answer was far from straightforward—she’d skimmed right past why she’d hid and what her earlier remark had meant. Was she purposely withholding to be infuriating? And why couldn’t he stop prying?
“Then why do you have your entire wedding planned?” Call it self-sabotage, but he needed to keep his wits about him. Ever since Violet joined them, his thoughts had been on the scrambled side. He wanted to tempt her closer and push her away all at the same time.
“Oh, don’t even start. You sit there all judgy, but I bet you have a stack of wildlife or vehicle magazines—or whatever other country-bumpkin hobby you’re into—at your house. It’s the same thing; mine’s just better organized.”
Amusement set in, making it that much harder to disengage. Kitty had claws, and he sort of enjoyed the way she raked them over him. “Sounds like you’re fishing for an invite to my house.”
“With how big your ego is, I doubt I’d fit inside.” Violet began to push away, and he flattened his palm to the thigh of his jeans so he wouldn’t reach out, snag her hand, and ask her to stay.
If he did that, he’d also have to apologize for being an asshole about the binder and the jab about starting a fire. Apologizing wasn’t one of his many talents, and the faster she fled, the sooner he could scrub her out of his head.
“Thank you for reminding me why I’ve given up men,” Violet muttered, taking a step in the other direction.
The chime that accompanied the opening of the door pinged. With a tiny squeak, Violet abruptly reversed course and dove for the table. She bypassed her chair and dropped to the floor by his mud-coated Adidas. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Ford glanced from Mayor Hurst and his wife, Cheryl, to the girl trying to become one with his leg. “Somethin’ I can help you with, ma’am?”
“Shhh. Just shut up,” she hissed.
“Well, if you’re going to be mean…” He shifted as if he were going to stand.
“Wait.” Violet clamped onto his leg, her fingernails digging into his calf muscles as she held him in place. “I’m sorry, okay? Even though you’re a cocky ass, I shouldn’t have told you to shut up.”
“Anyone ever tell you that your apologies are somewhat lacking?”
The Hursts walked to the cash register, and Violet hunkered down more. She crawled around to his other side on her hands and knees.
A large truck drove down Main Street, its muffler in desperate need of repair, and Mayor Hurst idly glanced out the large bakery window.
Violet wrapped herself around his leg like a koala bear, and her head brushed his inner thigh. If they’d been acquainted for longer and there wasn’t a chance of her mistaking a joke for a serious request, he’d make an inappropriate Hey, while you’re down there… remark.
Not only was he spot-on about her being flighty and temperamental, she had a few loose screws to boot.
Yay for his instincts, but what did he do about the heat stirring in his gut? It wasn’t the only part of him slowly waking up, either. It’d been a long time since a woman had been this close to… Definitely not thinking about that, or the situation’s gonna get even bigger.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Violet shout-whispered, and he wondered if his pervy thoughts were showing. “I realize this doesn’t exactly help the case I was pleading about being levelheaded, but this is an extenuating circumstance.”
“My buddy Tucker would approve of your legal jargon—he’s a lawyer.”
“That’s Addie’s fiancé, right?”
Ford nodded, stifling the desire to run his fingers through the strands of silky hair draped across his knee. “What’s the extenuating circumstance, then, Madam Foreman?”
“Ha-ha.” She ducked her head, attempting to peek under his thigh, although he doubted she saw much besides his track pants. “Larry Hurst is my biological father. He only ever acknowledges my existence when he absolutely has to, and the last time I saw Cheryl, she told me I was ruining Maisy’s wedding with my dramatics.”
“You, dramatic? No.” Sarcasm was already their home base, but hurt flickered through her features, and Ford instantly regretted his words. If she wasn’t gonna jab back, it sucked out the fun, and he hadn’t meant to cross into sore-feelings territory. “You also seem extremely energetic. How would you like to go hang out with some puppies?”
“Trying to lure me into your dark, windowless van?” There was the live wire he wanted to grab on to. Before he could answer, she added, “You know what, I don’t even care. Anything to get away from here. Let’s go.”