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My mom chuckled. “And like someone who wants a lot more than that.”
“She doesn’t exactly look at you like you’re just her bodyguard either,” Jessie added.
“She doesn’t?” I asked, too quickly.
Jessie’s grin grew. “That sounded hopeful, Blake James Donovan. I knew I was on to something.”
I shook my head and grabbed another bear claw, then zoned in on Callie again as the crowd started to grow. “It’s a professional relationship, Jess. That’s it.”
I’d almost eaten the whole thing when she said, “That’s too bad. I think she’d be awfully good for you.” She wrapped her arms around mine in a sisterly hug. “It’s about time you gave up the bachelor lifestyle.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying!” She sighed. Then an older couple from out of town approached Mom’s booth so we stood aside.
I watched Callie and Elsie picking out potatoes. They both turned to see me watching. Elsie waved enthusiastically. Callie smiled and held up a handful of potatoes. Then they shared a laugh about something I couldn’t quite make out.
Callie was so fucking beautiful, I ached to touch her again.
And I wondered if my sister might be right about leaving my bachelor days behind.
21
CALLIE
“Look at him,”Elsie said, gesturing at Blake. He stared at us, frowning.
“I think he’s trying to work out what we’re laughing about.” It had been a potato that looked like a pig’s face. I’d held it up, and it now sat in Elsie’s bag. She wasn’t sure she wanted her mom to cook it, but she had to buy it to show everyone. The way Blake squinted, even as he returned Elsie’s wave, it was easy to think he was wondering if we were laughing about him.
We went to the booth with the homemade jams and preserves. Elsie said the apricot preserves were to die for, so I bought a jar too. Then we walked slowly, browsing, while Elsie chatted about her upcoming audition, and I encouraged her.
Then she changed the subject.
“Do you like my Uncle Blake?”
“Do—do I—what?”
She grinned, looking far wiser than her twelve years. “Do you like him?”
“Of course,” I said, pretending to examine a basket full of fresh asparagus. “He’s a likable guy.”
“He is.” She ran her tongue over her braces. “I think he likes you.”
I’d never been so close to grabbing a tweenager and demanding every detail of her evidence.
She’s twelve. She likes me. Normal wishful thinking.
Somehow, I kept it together. “Yeah?” I said with a calmness I didn’t feel. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s different around you.”
I tested the weight of two apples in my hands and cleared my throat. There was no way she was picking up on anything, surely. It had been one night, and both of us had been a little awkward all morning. It wasn’t like we were putting out some kind of signal.
Fortunately, she kept talking before I said something stupid. “When you were helping me the other day, I noticed how different acts when you’re in the room.” She glanced over her shoulder at Blake, who was talking to his mom and sister but still watching us intently. “And now it’s like he’s different all the time.”
I should have changed the subject to something safer. Back to her audition. Her grandma’s baked goods. Her mom. Instead, I said, “Different... good? Or different bad?”
“Good! Even my mom mentioned it.”
