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“Morning,” she said, practically running toward him. She swept her hand down toward her feet. “How did I do?”
He stopped walking and let the dolly settle flat on the ground. Will scanned his eyes from the top of her head to her running shoes—which were a bright fuchsia and clearly not used much—a smile widening with every inch of her he saw.
“You killed it.” He tipped the dolly again and continued toward the van. She met him before he got there, and he leaned sideways as she slid one hand up his bicep.
She kissed his cheek, wishing he’d turn his head and really say good morning. He didn’t, but he chuckled, and that sent an additional dose of desire through Gretchen.
“Let me get this loaded,” he said. “Then we’ll get it dropped off, and we’ll go.”
“It’s six-thirty.”
“Did you want to go back to bed?” He grinned at her and left her standing on the path as he continued down it. She let him do all the work, admiring those pretty muscles as he lifted crates of cream into the back of the van.
One, two, three, four five, and the job was done.
“I’ll follow you to the shop,” he said, wheeling the dolly past her.
“Okay,” she said.
Jon was at the shop already when Gretchen arrived, and the two of them hauled in the cream before Will pulled up. Jon eyed the big truck like it was made of snakes, said, “Have fun, Gretchen,” and went back inside without acknowledging or waving to Will.
Gretchen didn’t know what to do about that. She liked and needed Jon at Sweet Water Taffy, and she was falling in love with Will. Surely Jon would get over whatever bothered him about the cowboy, and Gretchen wouldn’t ever have to address the issue with him.
She climbed into the truck and reached for her belt. “All right, cowboy,” she said. “I’m yours for the day.”
