No, when Kade looks at me, all that polite, fake Southern-boy energy flies straight out the damn window, and for some ridiculous reason, I like it that way.
What’s that saying?
Cowboy in the streets, domineering, alpha daddy in the sheets?
No? Maybe I made it up. Actually, Abby probably said it.
I bite my lip, eyes flicking between the two women as they engage in a quiet, tense conversation. My fingers trail over the golden jars of honey in an attempt to give them privacy, but I catch the wordsCooper Ridge is here, andstay away, before they drop their voices.
The honey really is beautiful, especially in the light. The label is modern, but rustic, just like their stand. I can tell every single aspect of Honey Bea farm was created with love and care. Did Kade help with any of this? The harvesting of honey or growing the dried herbs?
Bea said they have animals out on the farm. Does he know how to ride a horse, or are the cowboy boots just for show?
And with every single question, the reality that my interest in Kade Archer runs far too deep to simply be platonic. Every little detail I’ve found out about his life, whether from research, his family, or the man himself, has drawn me in a little bit deeper.
I’m attracted to him—that’s obvious, but damn, why the hell did I have to go and startcaringabout the moments that make up his days? Pretty sure the man can’t stand me, and I…
I don’t know what I feel.
“Hazel Ruth, meet Georgia,” Bea says, dragging me back to the present. “She’s new in town. Isn’t she just cute as a button?”
Hazel cocks a brow at her mom before slowly turning to face me. Her smile is friendly, but her body language is antsy, like she’s ready to run and hates chit-chat.
Same.
“Cute as a button, huh?” she says, eyeing me from my worn Chucks to my braids, then doubling back to my shirt. Her brows go high. “Stevie fan?” She clicks her tongue. “You must love tequila.”
A laugh slips free before I can stop it.
“I fail to see the correlation, but…” I shrug. “You’re not wrong.”
“Trust me, they’re related.” Hazel waves me off. “Stevie fans either cry to tequila or end up dancing on bars because of it. Sometimes both.”
“Hazel Ruth,” Bea chides. “Don’t scare the poor girl off.”
“She looks like she can handle it.” Hazel narrows her eyes at me. “Right,button?”
I ignore the nickname and cock a brow. “Haven’t had a tequila cry in at least a month, so…”
“Good. Then you’re overdue.” She grins. “And lucky for you, we’ve got the perfect watering hole to remedy the issue.”
My head bobs, stomach flipping with excitement, nerves, and confusion.
I don't know what’s happening right now—it feels a little bit like all the Archers are individually recruiting me, finding my weaknesses, and exploiting them in the kindest way possible.
They’re like magnets, drawing me into their happy family circle as if I’m one of them, and that…that feeling… it’s something I’ve wanted for way too damn long.
I could easily let myself get sucked into everything that is the Archers, and for that exact reason, I can’t let myself get any closer—to any of them. Not when everyone I get close to eventually leaves, shattering my fragile heart in the process.
“I’m sure you do, but, uh,” I say, thumbing over my shoulder, “I’ve got errands and, um, life stuff. You know how it is.”
“Liar,” she murmurs, challenge in her eyes.
My mouth falls open and she scoffs.
“Georgia, there are exactly three things to do in this town for fun: ride a horse, get laid, or get drunk. Lot of us do all three at once.”
Next to her, Bea chokes on her water, but Hazel doesn’t skip a beat.
