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Jasper’s grin collapses into a frown. “See this gray hair?” He jabs at his temple with an oil-stained finger.
“Uh, no.” I lean in, squinting to see whatever he’s pointing to.
“Right there,” he insists.
“Sorry, I don’t see it…”
“Trust me, it’s there.” He huffs. “As adorable as my daughter is, that sassy little girl is turning me into an old man.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry. You’ve still got that Westbrook swagger,” I assure him with a pat on the shoulder.
“That’s what Emma says,” he confides in me. “I’m just relieved that I already snagged my hot wife because this whole gray hair thing would have really killed my game back in my bachelor days.”
There used to be a running joke about how many eligible Westbrook boys live in Honey Hill, but these days, most of them are off the market. Cash is days away from marrying Meghan. Jasper eloped with Emma at the end of last summer. Harry woke up married to the woman of his dreams mere weeks ago. So now, the only remaining Westbrook bachelor is their cousin, Mason.
And well, Davis. But I really,reallydon’t like to think about that.
“So, are you excited for the big wedding?” I ask Jasper, if only to interrupt my unpleasant train of thought.
“I am.” He huffs, circling around my car, quickly inspecting my tires and my mirrors for me. “Though as far as I’m concerned, it feels like Meghan and Cash are already married.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” I chuckle.
The two of them have practically been living together for almost a year now. Cash left everything behind in Chicago—even the billion-dollar corporate empire he helped build—to move here and create a life with his bride-to-be. They’re damn near inseparable. It’s so ridiculously romantic.
I dig around in my purse. “You take card, right? I didn’t have a chance to run home for my checkbook after work.”
Jasper regards me with wide, horrified eyes. “Are you crazy? Grammy would kill me—slowly and painfully—if I accepted money for something as simple as changing your wipers.”
He has every right to be afraid. Maude Westbrook may look like a sweet old lady, but she can be downright terrifying when she wants to be. Especially when it comes to protecting anyone she’s claimed as family.
Even still, I start to object. “But—”
“Nope. Not having it.” He bumps his shoulder into mine. “You’re still family in my eyes, and family doesn’t pay. Not for windshield wipers, at least.”
I sigh in resignation. “Thanks,” I mumble.
I appreciate the kind gesture, but sometimes I wish he’d let me pay like a normal customer. I don’t deserve the special treatment.
Luckily for me, the Westbrooks all still treat me kindly despite my divorce from Davis four years ago. I’m really grateful for that because Honey Hill is small—five thousand residents, to be precise—way too small for me to avoid my former in-laws.
So I’ll just swallow my pride and accept the free wipers, if that means I get to stay friends with the Westbrooks.
Jasper saunters across the service bay and shouts out my wiper measurements to his helper, Simon. Then he excuses himself to go speak to a new customer who just strolled in.
Meanwhile, I hover over Simon’s shoulder, joking and making small talk as he works on my windshield wipers.
But when I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway behind me, I instantly get goosebumps. My knees grow shaky and my heart quickens.
Even after all these years, my senses are still in tune to the particular pattern of those tires and the distinct rumble of that engine.
I turn slowly to see my ex-husband’s Jeep rolling into the lot.Oh god…
Since the dust of the divorce settled, Davis and I have been able to remain cordial. Still, I’ve made it my mission to try and stay out of his path. It’s not that I don’t want to see him or anything. But damn—it hurts to run into him out and about, looking so darn good.
Things between us are awkward now. But it’s been impossible to avoid Davis, especially with this upcoming wedding. I’m Meghan’s maid of honor, and of course, Davis is Cash’s best man.
I watch him climb out of his vehicle, his chief deputy sheriff uniform hinting at the bulging muscles beneath. I fill my lungs with air, desperately trying to act normal. Trying to act like seeing my ex-husband doesn’t phase me.
