Page 3 of Already Callin’ You Mine

“I got you, Jace!” Dolly hollers from the other side of the diner.

Thank goodness…

A moment later, Dolly is at our table, thrusting her new fancy handheld device for taking payments right at the table toward me.

“Whatcha boys up to today?” she asks sweetly, as if she doesn’t somehow already know.

It’s the last Saturday in September in Hickory Hills, Georgia. There is only one thing—attend the last Farmers’ Market of the season.

“Farmers’ market,” I answer without thinking. Right at the same time as Owen offers up, “Jace is dodging the question.”

Unfortunately for me, Dolly zones in on only one of our answers.

“What question are you dodging?”

Her question is both inquiry and accusation. Something I think she picked up from our other sister-in-law, Dr. Sawyer Brown, my older brother Anton’s fiancée. I like both my sisters-in-law—actually, as the only one of my siblings who isn’t in a relationship, I have five at this point, plus a brother-in-law, all of whom are great—but the innate ability to see through us Hayes men is a little unsettling.

“Nothing.”

“So, it’s something big.”

“All I asked was when her first day is,” Owen tells her, the mix of nonchalance and impishness in his voice rather impressive. As is his commitment to getting under my skin this morning. Especially for someone whose job is to maintain order across the land. Or whatever the creed of a state trooper is.

“Do you not know? Or do you just not want to admit that you have the date circled in a heart on your calendar?” Dolly quips.

Wow, Dolly’s playing dirty this morning.

“Don’t know, don’t care.”

That’s a lie. At least partially. Because while I don’t actually know the exact date, I most certainly do care. And if there was anything I could do at this point to make it not happen, I would. But I’ve used all my resources and tactics. Hell, I even resorted to begging at one point.

That got me nowhere.

Actually, what it got me was some serious shit from my brothers.

“High school was a long time ago, Jace,” Owen says. “Things change. People change. Maybe she’s an entirely different person now.”

Doubtful…

I glare at him, wondering why he’s taking her side here. He’s not wrong—high school was a long time ago, and people do change. Neither Owen nor I are the same person we were back then. But at the same time, a tiger never really loses its stripes. Leading me to believe that she’s still the same overcompetitive know-it-all that she was back then.

Here’s hoping she’s not as pretty as she was then.

“Maybe,” I acquiesce. “Doesn’t mean I want her working for Hayes.”

“Way to be a grown-up.” Dolly slaps me on the shoulder, giving me a look that makes clear she is not impressed with me at all in this moment.

Too bad.

Ignoring her, I pull out my wallet and tap my card against the machine. Time to go, hopefully leaving this whole subject behind. The machine beeps, the screen flipping over to ask me how much tip I want to leave. For a split second, I think about not leaving one, but then I see the mean-mug that Dolly is giving me. As if she can read my mind and knows that I’m considering it.

I tap my way through the rest of the prompts, leaving a more than appropriate tip. Winking at me, Dolly leans down and kisses my cheek, the sweet peck of a sister-in-law who knows that she has the entire family wrapped around her little finger.

“Ready?” I ask Owen.

He nods, standing up and heading for the door. I follow, ready to see what’s what at the market and who has managed to outdo themselves decorating their booth.

Our small-town farmers’ market runs every year from early May to the last weekend in September. Most towns would simply close down, filling the air with “see you next year” and “it was a great season.” But not Hickory Hills. We turn the last market of the season into a thing. Everyone decorates their tents and booths with a theme, hosting giveaways and raffles, and there’s a contest for the best decorated booth. How the tradition started, I have no idea, but it’s been going on so long that no one questions it anymore.