Page 30 of Good Directions

“Wait,” I say, doing the math in my head. “That’s not an equal number.”

“Dustin’s coming.”

I startle, the voice from behind us sounding vaguely familiar, like a whisper from the past, the simple answer cutting through the air like an arrow. I turn, taken aback even more to find that the voice one hundred percent matches the woman, the familiarity clicking in my brain.

A tall, stunning blonde, who looks so much like her mama it’s uncanny, smiles at me, like she’s Miss America receiving her crown. Which, I guess she was. Well, Miss Georgia, not Miss America. Close enough.

There was no doubt that Miss Belle’s daughter would stand out, even before she showed off all the photos to me the other night, including ones of Willa when she won her Miss Georgia title, but shit, Willa Hayes is even more stunning in person.

It is seriously not fair that some women are this pretty, while the rest of us look like sewer rats.

“Dustin Wild?”

“Round here he’s Dustin Wilder, but yes,” Willa says. “He and Kenzie snuck off and lost track of time.”

I stare at her, fully aware I’m being rude, but I can’t help it. I’m more than a little dumbfounded that she so nonchalantly dropped the bomb that a country megastar is going to be joining in tug-o-war in a moment.

“Is that what the smile is from? You saw Dustin go through the pancake line this morning?” Dolly asks.

“He what?”

Dolly nods, holding back a laugh. Yeah, I absolutely missed Dustin Wild going through the pancake line.

“Did we just stumble upon your celebrity crush?” Willa gushes.

“I…err…ummm…no?”

I stumble through my answer, immediately wishing it had been more succinct. Or at least not ended with a question mark. Because Dustin Wild is not my celebrity crush.

This is where being a people person would come in helpful. Because I don’t know what to do next. So I’m just going to stand here, frozen, in the middle of the massive crowd, waiting on one of these two women to make a move.

Thankfully, Willa does.

“Sorry, hi! I’m Willa Hayes, shoulda led with that, since we haven’t actually met yet. Miss Belle has mentioned you a bunch and said I needed to come introduce myself. You are Sawyer, right?”

“That’s me!” I exclaim, relieved at the change of subject. “I’m the random human your mother invited in off the street to live with her.”

“That’s a very Miss Belle thing to do,” Willa says, shrugging like it’s not a big deal. “Case in point, I’m sure Auggie didn’t blink when he got home from his fishing trip and found out they had a house guest.”

I nod, because she’s right. August Hayes, Owner, President, and CEO of Hayes Industries rolled into his home two nights ago after being gone for more than a week, looking for a shower and time with his wife, and found me. And he didn’t blink. He did shower, but right after that he threw steaks on the grill and promptly started asking me about, well…me. My background, my job, my focus within soil research, all of it. We sat out on their back porch for hours talking, like I was their own daughter.

For as much of a mom as Miss Belle is, Auggie Hayes is every inch a dad. I don’t know that they will ever know how much of a hole they’ve filled during these last few days by simply being who they are.

“Do all y’all do that?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. “Call your parents by their first names?”

“Weird family quirk. We’ve done it for forever, so it makes sense to us, but I can see where from the outside it’s probably a bit weird.”

It’s a lot weird, but I keep that to myself. I have no room to talk when it comes to families.

“I think this is my new favorite event,” Brenna, the town pharmacist and Milo’s girlfriend, who I met during breakfast, says. “It’s like the muscular descendants of Greek gods decided to all line up and show off.”

I laugh. She’s not wrong. There isn’t a bad-looking one among them. The longer I look, though, the more I’m drawn to a certain spot. The spot where a tall, light-haired pain in my ass with eyes like the summer sky is standing. Mr. Too good-looking for his own good fruit-stand guy.

“Speaking of,”—Brenna drops her voice to a whisper, leaning in to Dolly—“we still on for this afternoon?”

“Of course! Just have to figure out where Margeaux went, because she made it clear we are not to leave her behind.”

“What are you two up to?” Willa asks.