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“Such a good girl.”
“I’m just glad that she and Jack finally found each other.” Merry checks her bet and turns to Fawn.
“They wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for us,” Fawn reminds the other two.
Both other women nod in agreement.
“I thought that was never going to happen no matter how many times we kept signing Dawn up to volunteer with Jack at Parks and Wildlife.” Merry rolls her eyes.
Fawn shrugs. “They finally stopped fighting it.”
“It was a beautiful wedding,” Fern says.
“I already said that.” Merry stares at Fawn.
“Who cares? It’s still true.”
“We need more weddings.” Fawn checks her bet and Fern deals the last card.
“No one is close to dating, let alone marriage.” Fern studies her cards in her hands before lifting her shrewd gaze to the five cards on the table.
“Neither were Dawn and Jack last year and look at them now. On their honeymoon.” Merry clasps her hands together and the cards in her hand crinkle.
It wouldn’t be the first deck to be lost to their lack of attention. And it definitely wouldn’t be the last.
“So what are we going to do about it?” Fawn asks.
“Same thing we always do,” Fern responds. “Let’s see, there’s Pierce and Hudson. Either of whom would be a catch.”
“Don’t forget Robyn or Elle. But not for either of those boys.” Fawn taps her lip as she adds to the list.
“No, all four of them are ready for something special. Something spectacular. It’s…” Fern’s voice fades as her attention shifts back to her cards.
“It’s matchmaking time,” Merry says and gasps when Fawn pushes in all her chips.
“All in, ladies. Who’s next?”
CHAPTER 1
Warrick
“Hey, Imp,” I say, standing in line behind the petite firebrand at the local coffee shop. There’s a steady line and more than enough people in front of us for me to get to the reason I’m paying six dollars for a cup of coffee I could make in my own kitchen for pennies.
“Warrick,” she says, her tone as welcoming as a snowball down the back of my pants.
“How’s it going?”
Her left shoulder lifts in a half shrug, like she can’t be bothered either way.
Sure, Mistletoe Creek, Tennessee, is a small town, and I know enough not to get too involved with the locals when I want to get my dick wet. Even so, most of the women my age in town tend to be flirtier and smile at me more.
But not Imp.
She makes me work for it, that’s for sure. I don’t know if she gets off on the chase or if she just likes to make me squirm, but over the last three years since she moved to town, I’ve asked the woman out more times than I’d admit to in mixed company.
Standing at just over five feet tall, she barely reaches the center of my chest. Her bright-red hair brushes the top of her tight, curvy ass. I remember my jaw taking a dive when she walked into the shop that fall morning, and I haven’t been able to get it off the floor since.
“Any plans for the weekend?” I ask in an attempt to get more than a noncommittal body response from the infuriating woman. There’s more I don’t know about her than what I do know.
