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“The ‘I can’t wait for you to fuck me,’ look,” he said, barely resisting the urge to push her back against the tree and pick up where they’d left off, when her smile became a come-and-get-me grin. “Yeah, that’s the one. No one else gets to see that look. That look is mine.”
She lifted one brow. “Awfully possessive, aren’t you?”
“When it comes to you,” he said as he started around the tree to where the horses were tied to a low branch. “I can’t help it. I don’t like to share.”
“I don’t, either,” she said, following him. “Being faithful has never been a problem for me, but I had a couple of boyfriends who struggled with the concept.”
Bubba frowned down at her as he handed over Darcy’s lead. “Why in the hell would they have trouble keeping it in their pants when they had you at home?”
She smiled. “You’re sweet.”
“No, I’m crazy about you, and you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, brushing her silky ponytail over her shoulder, wishing they were back at the pool again today. He wanted to disappear from the world with Marisol, get lost in her for a few months—or years—and leave everything else behind.
Instead, they mounted up and headed into town, stopping at the tiny office supply store inside the post office to print out the tour contract Marisol had looked over while they were riding to Old Town—looking every bit the modern cowgirl as she scanned documents on her cell and texted with the entertainment lawyer, while expertly handling Darcy.
After Bubba had done his own read through and signed five months of his life away on the dotted line, Marisol snapped pictures of the contract’s signature page and sent it off to Eugene. Ten minutes later, they’d tied up Darcy and Bubba’s horse, Cricket, at the hitching post outside the Blue Saloon, pumped water into the antique trough for the horses, and were on their way to Lavender and Lace.
As they walked through the door, into the perfumed cloud that always seemed to linger in the intensely feminine space, they found Mia and Tulsi’s little girl, Clementine, sitting on top of the checkout counter, playing cards.
Mia looked up as they entered, greeting them with giddy applause. “Yay! You’re together. I’m so glad!”
“How could you tell?” Marisol asked with a laugh.
“I can just tell,” Mia said, beaming at Bubba. “You two have a vibe.”
“You totally have a vibe,” Clementine said with a serious nod.
Mia reached over to lightly slap the little girl’s knee. “Since when did you become a romance expert, goober?”
“I know about romance,” Clem said, lifting her upturned nose into the air. “I’ve caught you and Sawyer kissing a hundred times.”
It was Bubba’s turn to chuckle. “Caught and schooled by the Clem.”
“Oh hush up, both of you,” Mia said, but her pale, redhead’s skin was giving her away, flushing bright pink from her neck all the way up to her cheeks.
“I’m not supposed to say hush up anymore,” Clem said. “Even if it’s not as bad as shut up. Mom says my mouth is in training for first grade for the rest of the summer.”
“What’s that mean?” Bubba asked, taking his usual spot on the window seat as Marisol crossed the room.
Clem heaved a dramatic sigh. “That means no rude words, no talking over grownups, and no arguing just for the sake of arguing.”
“But that’s the most fun kind of arguing there is.” Marisol walked behind the counter and glanced over at Clem’s cards. “What are you two playing?”
“Crazy eights because I already took all Mia’s candy when we played poker,” Clem said, grinning the toothy smile of a budding card shark. “Wanna play? I’m going to beat Mia any second and we can start a new game. Or we could play poker if you’ve got candy.”
Marisol smiled. “I’m all out of candy, but I’d love for you to deal me in. As long as it’s okay for me and Mia to talk business a little while we play.”
Clem seemed to consider the question for a moment before she nodded. “Yeah, as long as you can keep your attention on the game enough to make it interesting. I don’t like to win too easy.”
Marisol lifted a wry brow. “I’ll try to be a moderately challenging opponent,” she said to Clem before turning to Mia. “Is she always like this?”
“Yes. She’s a brilliant evil genius,” Mia said affectionately. “But we haven’t given up on convincing her to use her powers for good. What’s up with you? You have more concert advice for me, guru?”
“I do,” Marisol said and proceeded to fill Mia in on all the developments from her conversations earlier in the morning, including the newly confirmed band and the promo blast the DJs had agreed to help with the week before the concert.
“That’s amazing,” Mia said as she drew card after card from the bone yard pile, unable to find anything to play on Clem’s Queen of Hearts. “Thank you so much, Marisol. I would be floundering without you.”
“My pleasure,” Marisol said. “But I was wondering—”
