“Tell me what you’ve been up to. You work at Figs and Twine. What else?”
I scratched my chin. “I work at Figs and Twine, I bought the old Castle place a year back.”
“Did Mr. Castle die?” She looked distressed.
“No, he’s alive, the farm just became too much to maintain on his own, so he moved in with his daughter.” I’d looked for a suitable place for a while, going back and forth over whether to buy an existing property or build something new. One thing Hume doesn’t have a shortage of is land. On a random Thursday, I was driving home and spotted a for-sale sign outside the Castle Farm. Shit moved pretty fast after that.
Fancy peeled the label off one of the empty bottles. “What about a girlfriend or kids?”
“Nope.”
“So you’re telling me no woman in all of Hume has swooped up Edison Birch?”
“You make it sound like I have tons of options.”
“Sir, looking like that … your options are limitless.” My eyes settled on her face, slowly trying to process her words. Before I could respond, she pivoted the conversation.
“What about Dial? Does she have a fella?”
I screwed up my face at the question. “Come on. Dial is hella picky and she is not lowering her standards for a ring. But lots of guys have tried.”
“Okay, so you run Figs and Twine, you bought a farm, and you’re single. What else?”
“Honestly, that about covers it. My life isn’t that interesting. Not like you.”
“I think it’s interesting. From what I can tell, the nursery is bigger than when I left. And you own the creepy Castle Farm.”
“He left all his shit. I’m still sorting through the mess. He said if he needs something important, he’ll just swing by.”
“See there’s another interesting fact: you run a small storage company in your free time,” she teased.
She made me smile. She always had. “What about you? How’s Los Angeles?”
“Crowded with piss poor air quality.”
“Is it everything you thought it would be?” I averted my gaze, not looking forward to her response. The last thing I wanted to hear was how leaving Hume was the best decision she’d ever made. Or how she couldn’t imagine building a life in this podunk town. Occasionally people would leave this small town and when they returned for the holidays or a funeral, they’d have nothing but negative things to say about the town and the people who remained.
Her smile faltered. “Sometimes. Mostly no.” Fancy’s phone rang and she quickly concealed the screen, but not before I spotted a picture of a man with blue eyes and a cowboy hat. Her expression turned sour as she silenced the call. I knew all about unanswered calls. I’d ignored my share of calls from Willa in the past few months.
“Do you need to get that?”
“No, what I need is another drink. I’m still behind by one.”
“Two, you’re actually behind by two.” I pointed to my half-filled glass. “This is my fifth.”
“Damn.” She poured herself another. “Tell me about your momma and daddy.”
While she nursed her glass, I brought her up to speed on the happenings in the Birch clan. Fancy’s family and mine were fairly close. I grew up idolizing her big brother, Oz, who to a scrawny kid like me, was a King. He was a few years older andCy’s best friend. I desperately wanted to be a part of their crew, but Cy didn’t want his kid brother hanging around. And Dial … Dial adored Oz. Shit, she still did if you’re asking my opinion on the matter. But don’t tell her I said that.
As I retold the mundane comings and goings in Hume, Fancy’s face lit up like I was a master storyteller weaving a tell of times long ago. I don’t know how she was capable of making me forget the others in the room. Well past midnight Tipsy was standing room only, but in our booth it was like we were in another universe. The clanking of glasses and boisterous chatter all fading away. Fancy’s light, melodic laughter trilled in the air. The soft touch of her hand resting on my arm caused a flood of goosebumps to pebble my flesh. And the overhead lights which helped to conceal imperfections in the decades-old tables and booths seemed to shimmer against her sepia skin. Her breast rising and falling with each intake of air. While her full curls framed her face drawing me to her mink eyes.
Fancy was stalled on her beer while I was five beers in and well past the limit to safely drive home. “I think I need to call it for the night.” I slid from our booth and staggered to catch my bearings.
“How are you getting home?”
“Looks like I’m hoofing it. The fresh air will do me good.”
Fancy stood and with a tug of my hunter green T-shirt, she pulled me close. Her lips were inches from mine. If I puckered, I could steal a kiss. “Do you want me to drive you home?”
