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The fact that he was up Stone’s ass surprised me zero percent. They deserved each other.
Somehow I ended up at the back of the pack after getting pulled over by sweet old Melba Hernandez, who told me a quick story about the time she met Dolly Parton—a story I’d heard about a hundred thousand times since I was five—and when I gave her a squeeze and turned for my sisters, I found Grant Stone instead.
God, he was tall, a tank of a man in khakis. He looked as at home in them as he did in Lindenbach, which was to say, not at all. Somehow, even khakis were too casual for him. But he wore them well, despite the disdain that either I projected or he exuded. I chose to believe the latter.
For a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other—him still smug, me still annoyed. If he hadn’t been standing directly in front of me, I’d have just gone around. But his position left me pinned by propriety, a trait bred into me from birth by my mother, despite my recent behavior.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
He jerked his chin in the direction of the stage. “I heard the Blums could sing, but I didn’t expect you to be that good.”
My face quirked. “That was almost a compliment. It didn’t hurt, did it?”
A single laugh through his nose. “I heard another tidbit about the Blums. Something about a curse.”
Goddamn Dolores. But this was a dance I’d done before. I put on a wicked smile and leaned in a little.
“We’re the kiss of death. Black widows. Get tangled up with one of us, and—” I cut my index finger across my neck.
“Sounds dangerous.” He looked more intrigued than worried.
“Wait—are you one of those rich guys who jumps out of planes and builds rocket ships to go to the moon to fill the void where your soul should be?”
That earned me a genuine laugh. I hated that I very much liked the velvety, easy sound. Snake charmer.
“I’d rather be on a beach in France than jumping out of a plane, though I do enjoy a good hike.”
“I know the perfect one. So you’re going to hop on the highway and head east about fifteen hundred miles. You’ll know it when you get there.”
All I wanted to do was make him mad, but all he did was smile at me like a son of a bitch. “I’m curious as to why you hate me so much.”
“How come you care so much?”
“Humor me.”
“Really? You’re really questioning this?”
An elegant shrug of one shoulder. How anyone could shrug elegantly had been beyond me until that moment. “I get that oil is the bad guy. But that doesn’t explain why you hate me.”
“Fair enough,” I admitted. “I suppose I don’t know you any better than you know me, but I know you want what’s under my farm. And as such, I don’t trust you.” He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “And if you have some sort of line on your bifurcated tongue about how much more environmentally friendly fracking is these days, just keep it to yourself.”
“For someone who’s adamant that I don’t understand you, you’ve made a lot of assumptions about me.”
“It makes it easier to hate you.”
“Hate is a deep emotion for somebody you don’t know.”
“Smugness is premature for a situation where you don’t have the upper hand.”
“Why not just acknowledge your mistrust and let it go?”
“Let it go?” I shot. “You told me—whispered in my ear like a creep—that you were coming for our farm, and I’m supposed to let it go?”
He didn’t even flinch. Instead, his smile lifted higher on one side. “I never said I was coming for your farm, Jo. I said I was coming for you.”
Heat slithered down my body and cold shot up my spine. The way he’d said it, the look in his eyes … despite accusing him of being a predator more than once since he’d rolled into town, his words hadn’t felt predatory at all.
It was a promise, one he’d known I’d consent to before I did.
The realization shocked me mute. I’d have ridden his face like a pony without disturbing my wholehearted disdain for him.
Until that moment, I hadn’t known both emotions could be present at the same time.
Before I found my words, my sisters pushed around him to intercept the exchange, greeting him, making some small talk. And all the while I just looked at him, perplexed by the shape of his lips and the knowledge that I’d love to have them on me.
At least it would mean he wasn’t talking.
They swept me away, blaming Billy and Bobby for not being able to get back to me.
Poppy leaned in. “You’re welcome for the rescue party.”
“You just saved my life,” I admitted in earnest.
