Maybe it’s not a bad thing at all.
Chapter Ten
Flint
The scent of smoke still clings to the air in town, faint but undeniable, as if the wildfire wanted to leave its mark on Devil’s Peak. The streets are quieter than usual, the usual hum of small-town chatter subdued by exhaustion and the weight of what could’ve been lost. I park the truck near The Devil’s Brew, glancing at Juniper in the passenger seat. She’s biting her lip, staring out the window like she’s trying to memorize every detail of the street.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” I ask, my voice dry as gravel.
She snaps her gaze to mine, those green eyes sparking with defiance. “What would I be nervous about?”
I smirk, leaning back against the headrest. “Oh, I don’t know. Facing a room full of nosy small-town folks who already think you’ve tamed the untamable Flint Warner?”
Her cheeks flush, and she crosses her arms, attempting to look unaffected. “I didn’t tame anything. You’re still a grump.”
“Glad to hear I haven’t lost my touch,” I mutter, pushing open the truck door. The cab rocks as I climb out, the heat of her gaze lingering on me even after I close the door behind me.
When she finally joins me on the sidewalk, she’s all brisk determination, striding ahead like she owns the place. I can’t help but watch the sway of her hips, the way her ponytail bounces with each step. Damn woman’s a walking distraction.
Inside The Devil’s Brew, the usual crew is gathered, sprawled across booths and stools like they own the place. Hudson spots us first, his grin wide and entirely too pleased.
“Would you look at that,” he drawls, raising his beer in a mock toast. “The mountain man emerges from the forest—with company, no less.”
Juniper stiffens beside me, and I step closer, letting my arm brush hers. It’s a subtle move, but her shoulders relax a fraction.
Liam, seated at the corner table, leans back in his chair, his boot propped up on the edge. “Is that a smile I see on your face, Flint? Must be a trick of the light.”
“More likely the apocalypse,” Zane chimes in, not even looking up from the pool table.
Juniper lets out a soft laugh, and I glance at her, surprised. She’s not just laughing—she’s grinning. “You guys have him pegged, don’t you?”
Ridge grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Took years of observation, but yeah, we’ve got him figured out.”
“Careful,” I warn, my voice low but laced with amusement. “Keep it up, and I’ll start sharing your secrets, too.”
“Oh, please,” Hudson retorts, waving me off. “The biggest secret you’ve been hiding is that you’re not actually allergic to happiness.”
“Who says I’m happy?” I counter, my tone gruff.
Hudson nods toward Juniper, who’s still grinning like she’s thoroughly enjoying my discomfort. “She does.”
Juniper tilts her head, pretending to consider. “Well, I wouldn’t say happy exactly. Maybe... less scowly?”
“Scowly?” I arch a brow at her. “That’s not a word.”
“It is now.” She smirks, and damn if it doesn’t hit me square in the chest.
The guys hoot and holler like we’re in the middle of a comedy act, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not when Juniper’s standing beside me, looking like she belongs here.
Liam raises his glass, his tone mock-serious. “Here’s to Juniper, for doing the impossible and softening the grumpiest man on the mountain.”
“I didn’t—” Juniper starts to protest, but I cut her off, leaning in close enough that only she can hear.
“Let them think whatever they want,” I murmur, my voice low. “It means they’ll leave you alone.”
She turns to me, her breath catching for a split second before she narrows her eyes. “You’re just saying that so they don’t tease you.”
“Maybe,” I admit, a slow smile tugging at my lips. “But you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”
