Page 20 of Serving Bunt

It was magnetic. Disarming.

And it was driving me insane.

Because if he treated everyone like they were the center of his universe, how the hell was I supposed to know what was real when it came to us?

I swallowed hard when he laughed at something Lolly said, tipping his head back just enough to expose the clean line of his throat—and the black-and-gray dove inked there, a quiet tribute to his mom.

Fucking hell.

Since when was I attracted to throats?

By the time they made it back inside the house, Diaz was grinning ear to ear with Mo caught up in his arms and Lolly was practically vibrating.

“Look who missed me,” he said, scratching under Mo’s chin.

She gave a happy yip of agreement, attempting to burrow further into his chest.

Not today, traitor.

“I’ll take her.”

Diaz’s eyes met mine as he handed her over. Our fingers brushed. The contact was brief, but it still sent a spark straight up my arm. Mo whined in protest at being transferred, shooting me a betrayed look before settling against my chest.

Lolly beamed at both of us like we were her favorite reality show. “You two—well, three—are just the cutest. Everything ready, Bernie?”

“Yes, my love.” Bernice slid two brass keys across the desk. “Pinecone for Matty, Cedar for Peter.

I quirked a brow and nodded toward the stairs. “Oh, I thought—”

“The guest rooms inside are already booked up,” Bernice quickly explained. “You boys will be staying in two of the cabins on the property.”

“But don’t worry,” Lolly added. “They are adorable. Each one is only about four hundred square feet, but they’ve got everything you need. Plus, you’re only a two-minute walk from the barn where you’ll be filming. Come on, I’ll give you both a quick tour on the way out.”

She ushered us outside. As we walked the gravel path lined with wildflowers, Lolly offered a cheerful running commentary.

“The main inn was built in 1892 by a lumber baron who wanted a summer retreat for his family. Bernie and I bought it fifteen years ago and spent the last six restoring it. All the woodwork is original, but we added more modern fixtures, like Wi-Fi and air conditioning, mostly because our kids insisted.”

She pointed toward the big white structure off to the left.

“The barn over there used to house draft horses, but now we use it for special events like weddings, parties, and, for the first time ever, filming my personal favorite baking competition show. It’s a bit of a mess right now with cables and equipment, but don’t worry. They’ll have everything ready to go for y’all tomorrow morning.”

We passed a small orchard and a chicken coop before the path split toward two identical tiny cabins nestled under a stand of old ponderosa pines.

Four hundred square feet my ass.

I’d seen closets bigger than those cabins.

“Cozy,” Diaz mused, rocking back on his heels.

Lolly handed us our keys. “Pinecone is on the left; Cedar’s on the right. Dinner is served between six and eight. Any questions before I leave y’all to settle in?”

Diaz shook his head. “Everything looks great, Lolly. Muy preciosa.”

Lolly pressed a hand to her chest like he’d just proposed marriage.

My eyes rolled into the back of my head. Unbelievable.

Once she was out of earshot, the silence between us felt heavier than the high-desert air.