She snorts.
“It’s true. Kinda like a scared dog. When spooked, she’ll swing without looking.”
“So my opening the bakery scared her somehow?”
“Maybe that or something else.”
“That doesn’t excuse her trying to ruin my business before I even got off the ground.”
“No, it does not.” I watch Hallie, fighting the urge to pull her into my arms, the pasture stretching quiet and dark behind her.
She shifts in her seat, the heater humming beside us, warm against the cool night air. “So what’s y’all’s story?”
Maisie nickers from far off. “We don’t have one. I think she’s into Nate Dawson.”
Hallie smirks, visibly relaxing. “That’s what I was thinking, too. She looked ready to throw down Brooke at the auction after winning Nate’s date.”
Chuckling, I stand, reaching for the curvy beauty’s hand. I look down into watchful blue eyes, her lashes full, her skin peaches and cream, a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose.
“You do something to me, Cupcake. Something I didn’t see coming.”
What I don’t say is that I want to throw her against this table, tug down her black leggings like they don’t belong, and kiss her naked body from head to toe. I get hard just thinking about it—the way she might taste, her full round breasts, taut nipples in my mouth. I would slide my tongue down to her belly as she wraps her legs around me, my hands kneading her gorgeous tits while I claim her.
The gravel crunches under our boots as I walk her to her car, the night cool and still around us, and I swear the quiet feels fuller somehow. The moonlight catches on her freckles as I open the door, and it takes everything in me not to pull her back and kiss her again, harder this time. Instead, I step back and wave as she drives off.
One thing is certain. I need to get my head on right before I take things any further with her. Because I don’t think I can do casual with Hallie Emory.
There’s no fucking way.
Chapter 11
Hallie
The hayride date of the bachelor auction is an institution. Tractors pull flatbeds through the town while auction couples sing Christmas carols and drink wassail. The constable’s office provides escorts for traffic safety, and town members line up along the streets in camp chairs as if watching a parade, which it sort of is, considering there’s four flatbeds housing over forty people.
It’s kind of like a Christmas parade preview, where town members gauge which couples are in it for fun and which couples may have a spark. Some town members even put together unofficial brackets, kind of like the college basketball Final Four, as a way to get in on the fun.
Brooke being on the Bachelor auction committee gave her leverage to make sure that Gentry and I were on her float, which means I get to enjoy the festivities with both my bestie and my arch-nemesis. I’ve thought a lot about what Colt said, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what I could have done to spook Liz. But whatever it is has taken a backseat to her ongoing competition with Brooke for Nate’s attention.
And, I don’t like the ease with which Colt and Liz interact. He’s polite, a good date even. And he doesn’t give off any romantic vibes toward her, but they have history that we don’t. And I’m still annoyed with her. She’s not a ‘girl’s girl.’ Grown women shouldn’t treat their sisters the way she doe.
Gentry turns out to be a great hang, though. He knows the words to every Christmas song in existence and can slip in and out of making up lyrics with ease. He knows the history of every store on Main Street, giving everyone in our flatbed our own personal story hour, including the time he and Colt and some of their buddies filled their coaches’ office with wads of newspaper because they’d just won the district championship. Everyone ends the ride relaxed and having enjoyed themselves.
By the time we make it to our cars, Colt surprises all of us. “Y’all up for some Mexican food? Brooke, Nate? Gentry, Hallie? Liz?” We all mumble some form of “Sure, that’d be great” and “Okay,” surprised at the request.
The thing people from Texas don’t understand is that Tex-Mex is some of the greatest food there is. You can go out of town and eat at a Mexican food restaurant in some other state, but it just is not the same. The best places are locally owned mom-and-pop eateries. They have Tex-Mex menus plus a selection of authentic Mexican dishes. You can’t beat it.
Gloriana’s is a local favorite that I could eat at every week. It’s been around for years. Arriving a little later than the typical dinner rush, we’re able to get one of the round tables pretty easily. We order a round of margaritas, Colt orders two large quesos to go with our chips and salsa, and we scan the menus.
Once the order is put in and we’re enjoying our frozen drinks, Colt leans back in his chair. “What the hell is everybody doing? This is the most ridiculous pile of crap I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”
He thumps the table. “Brooke, you like Gentry. Admit that you like him and put the poor guy’s heart at ease, ‘cause you’re gonna lose him. My man’s done waiting. And Gentry, what the hell were you thinking even signing up for the bachelor auction to begin with? I understand you’re hurt. I understand. But don’t you think it’s time to put up or shut up? Brooke’s not gonna keep trying to guess your veiled hints or something more. Man up. And Liz? What the hell? Why did you get into a bidding war with Hallie during Nate’s bid at the bachelor auction?”
Liz’s nostrils flare, eyes narrowing as a server walks by with a platter of sizzling fajitas. “You’re one to talk, Colt Sawyer. You’re lusting so hard after Hallie Emory the transmission’s going to overheat from exhaustion.”
I can’t help it. I start giggling. But she’s not wrong.
“What are you laughing at?” Liz counters. “You’ve been lusting after him since high school.”
