Page 50 of Blue Jean Summer

But it was too much to spend on something that wasn’t real.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered in an attempt to hold back from gushing and squealing like a schoolgirl. I avoided Hayes’s eyes because I knew he could read me like a book. “But enough about me. I have one ring already. My dear fiancé needs to catch up,” I said with a cheery lilt as I slipped the band off and handed it back to Mary Lou.

Hayes’s eyes never left me as Mary Lou shifted down to the men’s rings. I didn’t dare look up.

She brought over a selection of gold, silver, and platinum bands to choose from. Some had engravings or diamonds, but Hayes seemed to gravitate toward the plain bands.

“Now this is a tungsten band,” Mary Lou said. “Lotta men are getting tungsten these days. It’s scratch resistant and could withstand a nuclear blast.” She made herself laugh. “Just know that if it ever gets stuck on your finger, the fire department and the ER can’t cut it off. When I say they’re indestructible, I mean it.”

“No,” Hayes said. “I’d like gold. Something that matches her ring. Smooth on the outside. I don’t need engravings or anything like that.”

“A classic, although gold isn’t as durable. The higher the karat, the softer it is.”

“I’m alright with that,” he said as he studied the options. “My granddad’s ring always had scratches. I think it adds character.”

Mary Lou winked at me. “Wise man.”

“Something like this?” I said as I pointed to a smooth band. I picked it up and offered it to him. But instead of taking it from me, Hayes held his hand out, making me slide it onto his finger.

He inspected it and nodded. “It’s a little big, but I like it.”

“I can have it resized by the day after tomorrow,” Mary Lou said.

“Do you have one that matches that?” I asked. “Maybe a little bit thinner?”

Mary Lou glanced at Hayes, then me. “Sure do. Let’s get you sized, and I’ll give you a call when you can come pick ’em up.”

—

“Come on,” Hayes said as soon as we broke free from the chatterbox that was Mary Lou. He took my hand in his and tugged me down the sidewalk. The back end of a black-and-white trailer poked out from beside the ag supply store.

“Is that what I think it is?” I asked as I hurried along beside him.

Hayes pulled me around the corner just in time to see Jeremiah lowering the service window.

My heart sank. “They’re closing.”

“Any chance we could get a drink before you close up?” Hayes called out.

“Nope!” Jeremiah called out.

“Please?!” I begged.

The lowering window jolted back up and both Jeremiah and Mike poked their heads out. “Well, you should have said something before!” Mike shouted. “The queen of Honey Hollow can get coffee whenever she wants.”

I cringed at the spotlight that being a future Wilder had put on me. “Just a banana bread latte, please,” I said with hope in my voice. I needed the pick-me-up and I wasn’t above begging.

“Coming right up!” Mike hollered.

“What about you?” I asked Hayes.

“Just coffee for me.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That’s it? No sugar? No flavors?”

Hayes arched an eyebrow. “If it’s good coffee, it doesn’t need any.”

“It is good coffee, and the banana bread latte is the best. Brown sugar and cinnamon syrups, and they steam the milk with a little bit of banana puree, which sounds weird but it totally works.”