Page 85 of Blue Jeans in Low Beams

“Milo Hayes!”

And then there’s that bucket of ice-cold water.

I spin on my heel, turning to face my former math teacher, forcing the most charming smile I can muster. I can hear Brenna’s exasperated sigh behind me, and my heart has never felt more connected to another human. Ever.

“Mrs. Chamberlain. Lovely as always. New Rhythm and Brews posters I see,” I comment, unable to help myself.

“Yes!” she replies, looking proud. At least until her gaze lands on my T-shirt. The stick figure humping the word “it” proudly displayed on the front sours her expression, her look of disapproval flicking upward quickly. It hasn’t changed in twenty years. “Nice to see that your sense of humor has remained consistent since you left my class, Milo.”

Brenna chokes out a laugh, making me smile. I remain silent, undeterred by the town gossip’s commentary.

“Andy Cowherd—he’s a junior in my class this year—drew up this design, and we just fell in love with it. The second I saw it, I thought, that needs to go on the poster!”

Grabbing a rolled-up sheet from the counter, she unfurls it and shows it off to the group. Mr. Hovland nods in approval, but Brenna gasps, and I immediately know that she sees the same thing I do.

That’s my girl…

“It’s a…” Brenna starts.

“A silo with grain,” Mrs. C. continues. “I know it’s a bit different from our usual focus on the BBQ aspect of the festival, but we figured it was a nice change. And grain is used in the brews part.”

“Sure is,” I offer.

“I think they look great,” Mr. Hovland adds. “We can put one up back here!”

He takes the poster from Mrs. Chamberlain, and we all watch as he tapes it up to the side of a metal shelving unit. Brenna turns to me, trying to be sly, her eyes still wide and barely holding in her laugh. And I know this is my cue.

“Mr. Hovland, I know it’s not quite closing time, but I was wondering if just this once, I might be able to steal Miss Brenna a bit early?”

“Oh, well, I⁠—”

“Why?”

I stop, the single-word question from my former teacher catching me off guard. It shouldn’t. I’ve been expecting it. It’s long overdue, really. Somehow though, I think that deep down, I thought that maybe I’d gotten away with it. That I wasn’t going to get questioned. I should have known better.

“Because.”

“That is not an answer, Milo Hayes,” she scolds.

Touché.

“Truthfully, Mrs. Chamberlain,” I say, turning to face her fully, leaning against the counter, “it’s a surprise for my girl. And I’d prefer not to spoil it by announcing it in the middle of the drugstore in front of God and everybody.”

Leveling me with the same look she did when I sassed her as a teenager, the now well into middle-aged woman takes a moment to consider my response. I stand my ground, not willing to give in on this one. My plans for Brenna are mine and mine alone.

“As long as your intentions are honorable,” she says, acquiescing after a long moment of silence.

They most certainly are not…

“When have my intentions ever been anything but?”

Her eyes flick down to my T-shirt, then back up at me, looking down her nose at me the whole time. I shrug, giving her a polite nod, because frankly, there’s nothing left to say. I just fueled this town’s rumor mill for the next week, easy. Maybe the next two.

I turn to Mr. Hovland, still waiting for his blessing. He is the boss, after all, regardless of what Mrs. Chamberlain thinks. He nods, a much more devious smile on his face. Like he’s devising a plan in his head to use this as a way to get Brenna to stay. I’m here in Hickory Hills, which should be all the motivation she needs, right? Sorry, sir, that’s not how we work.

“Bren?”

“Huh?” She looks up from her phone, apprehension mixed into her features.