Page 6 of Sterling Fight

The movement flips a switch inside me, and I quickly turn away from him, giving him my back as I’m not prepared to hear his voice after all this time.

“Good night, gentlemen,” I mutter before swinging open the door of my Camry and slipping inside, keeping my eyes forward until I need to reverse out of the parking space. Only then do I see that Ralson is nowhere in sight, but Judd remains standing a few feet away, underneath the parking lot light as if he’s some ominous creature.

Snap-crackle-pop.

I lean forward to check the sky. Not a cloud in sight. No spring storm brewing, and yet I sense one coming.

Especially after I reverse out of the parking space and glance in the rearview mirror one more time to find Judd has walked out from beneath the parking light, standing directly in my line of sight behind me.

And behind me is where he belongs. In my past.

2

[Judd]

From the moment I saw Genie Webster a week ago, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her.

Normally, I don’t notice the crowd around the ring. My intention is to get lost in the motions of my body and out of my head. However, for a brief second, no more than a blink, I saw her in the backroom of The Boxer. Like the flash of a firefly in the darkness of night. And that blip surprisingly blinded me.

Or rather, awakened me.

Even though my mind has been full of Genie, I wrangle my concentration into submission. The beautiful, blonde woman sitting across from me in Curmudgeon Bakery deserves my momentary attention. Especially with how this conversation is about to go.

Our small town is located on Milton Peak, and the woman across from me is a local celebrity, recognized as the pin up girl for Remington Autos annual calendar. Her daddy owns a set of successful car dealerships in the area, and she’s his pride and joy. She’s also been my girlfriend of sorts for two and a half years.

And we are breaking up.

As we sit at a small bistro table in the front corner of my brother’s bakery shop in the business district of Sterling Falls, we have a clear view of the crossroads of Main and Corner. The few other tables near us remain empty. The long, wooden bench taking up one full wall hosts several tables in front of it. Another customer is tucked in the back. My brother Sebastian is behind the counter along with his newest baking assistant.

I already ordered a coffee for myself and the complicated iced caramel macchiato with one pump of caramel and an extra splash of milk that Heather likes.

This will be my last act of kindness.

Our relationship has been unsettled for a while. As in, Heather wants to settle down, and I’ve been uncertain she’s the one for me. She’s beautiful but bossy. Sexy while stubborn. And brutally honest while not always polite or considerate with her opinion.

I’d be the first to admit I’m not perfect. Heather would be the first to tell you she is.

“So, I’ve been thinking, maybe today, during the Buttercup Society Garden Party, we could…”

I internally groan, tuning Heather out at the thought of the local women’s club and their garden affair. Even though Clay begged me to go in his absence, I had no plans to attend.

“It’s good business,” my older brother by eighteen months said.

As the Sylver Seed & Soil is our family business, and we are the leading place for garden supplies and landscaping needs, among many other goods and services, it is good practice to be present for these types of events. However, I’m not the face of Sylver Seed & Soil; I’m the books. Accounting and financial advising, actually, which includes Chief Financial Officer as my official title, although I feel strange about the label.

“I’m not attending the party.”

“But, Judd, we need to⁠—”

“Break up,” I interject.

Heather rocks back in her chair and stares at me. Her icy blue eyes are frozen for a second. I’ve seen those eyes be seductive or stone cold, with rarely a shade in between.

She wants us to get married. And I don’t. At least, not to her.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I admit.

“But you will.” Her voice grows louder as she sits taller. She’s wearing a flannel shirt over a bandeau top, a term I only know because of her, but she has each shoulder pulled down to her elbows, and I just don’t understand the appeal. Dangling her shirt in the crook of her elbows looks uncomfortable, but what do I know about women’s fashion? I have one sister, and Heather has been my longest relationship.