Page 17 of Already Callin’ You Mine

He drags his gaze up and down me, assessing me like I’m the prize hog at the county fair and yet somehow come up short. Very short, judging by the look on his face. The one that tells me he’d rather be looking at a roach infestation than me.

To be fair, I’d rather clean hair out of the drain than look at him.

If we could just tell my body that, however, so that my heart doesn’t skip the next time he walks into the room. And my eyes don’t look at his hands, wondering what it would be like to have them on me. Or have my brain flooded with images of how natural he looked holding my son—and Otis holding on just as tight.

“Hi, Jace,” Bronwyn greets, her politeness outshining her surprise. But only slightly.

“Hi.”

His automatic response is curt, forced, his gaze still glued to me. I do my best to look unbothered, maybe even annoyed with his presence—which I am; this is my meeting—and not like I can feel the heat of his eyes on me. Or that I wonder what that little bit of scruff on his face would feel like against mine.

“Like I was saying,” he continues, peeling his attention away from me and turning it squarely on Bronwyn. Although he smiles for her. Very nicely, I might add. “Owen and I had this idea. And I think it might be perfect for the whole social media push that you’re doing.”

Jace had a social media campaign idea? With Owen? Owen Meyer?

I scoff internally, wondering what on earth those two chaos gremlins could possibly come up with. They were like Frick and Frack back in high school. While I’m sure it’s not fair to believe that their grown-up versions are exactly the same, I have a hard time imagining that these two don’t revert to their basic, immature levels when together. They are boys after all.

“Well, lay it on us,” Bronwyn says, then gestures to me. “Our new social media manager is sitting right here.”

Jace looks back at me, holding back the sneer I imagine is crossing his mind right now. Or maybe that’s just my mind.

“Right…”

Crashing down into the other guest chair, he makes himself comfortable, like he owns the place, crossing his legs with one ankle resting on top of the opposite knee.

At least he’s not manspreading…

“So, Owen has this friendship, shall we call it, with this motorcycle club.”

“Owen is in a motorcycle gang?” I choke out, unable to hold back.

“No.” Jace glares at me. “He’s a lieutenant in the Georgia State Patrol. Which is how he knows the leader of the motorcycle club. Anyway, we were thinking it might be cool to host them here in Hickory Hills and do a self-defense event.”

“With the bikers?” I clarify.

“No, with Ewoks.” Jace rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide his indignation. He looks like he’s half a second away from asking if I really need to be here. “Yes, with the members of the club. We’re thinking it would help break down some stereotypes and barriers and all that. Plus, we can make it a fundraiser for EmpowHER.”

EmpowHER, the local woman’s refuge in Knox County. The place where Jace, Owen, and I did many of our community service hours to meet the graduation requirement. Actually, thinking back on it, that might have been where Jace did all his hours.

He isn’t wrong—partnering with a local organization such as EmpowHER is great PR for Hayes. It’s a wonderful, feel-good type story that people go crazy for. Bikers…well, that part is a little hit or miss, but depending on the group, we can frame it in a way that will make it work.

“I like it,” Bronwyn says. There’s a but coming though; I can tell in her voice. “So, I’m not saying no, but…it’s not quite the serial I want to focus on.”

“We could make it a series. I’m at EmpowHER once a month doing a class, so we could incorporate that, leading up to the event. Make it part of Rhythm and Brews even.”

He wants to do this as part of Rhythm and Brews? Holy Cow…that’s going to be an undertaking.

The beer and bluegrass festival, held every Labor Day weekend, is the pride of this town. Despite all the other events held throughout the year—and there are plenty; what kind of small town would it be otherwise?—Rhythm and Brews is without a doubt the shining crown jewel in the cap. Thousands of people descend on this community every year, helping to raise money for the local high school. It’s a massive event—on multiple levels—not the least of which is the many gallons of beer served every year.

Adding a self-defense class to that is…borderline insane. Then again, I don’t have to coordinate it, so what do I care?

Oh, wait… I’ll have to document it and hype it up. So yes, I care very, very much.

“Is that really the smartest idea? I know I’ve only attended one Rhythm and Brews, but I can’t imagine it’s gotten any smaller in the years since I lived here, and that just seems like an insane undertaking⁠—”

“It’s a great idea,” Jace cuts me off.

Okay then…