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Hazel smirks. “You know I’m going to law school, right?”
“That’s another thing I’ve questions about.”
“Are all you farm folk always this curious?”
I snort out a laugh. “You obviously haven’t met the Queen Bees.”
“The Queen Bees?”
“Some elderly ladies ’round here with too much time on their hands, like to spend it meddling in other people’s personal lives.”
“Gossips?”
“More like matchmakers,” I chuff.
As Hazel cradles her warm coffee mug, she makes her way over to the hearth. A picture of me standing with the Hardins, my arm draped over Rosemary’s shoulder, grabs her attention immediately. She picks it up, pointing it at me like it’s evidence in a courtroom and proves I’m guilty.
“They ever try to set you up with Rosemary?”
“All the time.”
“Ah.” A frown creeps onto her lips but she quickly schools it off of her face. Impressive.
“We’re just friends.” Taking the framed photo, I put it back on the mantel.
“So what’s more than meets the eye, Chasen?” Hazel takes another, slower sip of java, keeping her eyes on me as she does.
“It’s better you see for yourself than just take it from me,” I answer. “Got plans for tomorrow? I can uh, show you around?” The words trip over my tongue against my better judgment. It’s not appropriate, seeing as I’m so close to the family. Nothing wrong with being a friend obviously, but I already know I am going to want more than friendship with this woman.
A fuck-ton more.
“No, I don’t have plans,” Hazel replies.
“Is that a yes? I’ll pick you up for breakfast.”
“That would be nice.” Hazel drains the last of her brew, bringing the cup to the sink. She rinses it, then heads for the door. “Aren’t you coming?”
“What, you’re not sick of me yet?”
“Ah, a cowboy, and a fisherman,” Hazel jokes. “How are you going to pick me up if your truck is at their house?”
I nod. “Good point.”
