“Like I said, it’s my time to pay it forward. You will as well, when it’s your time.”
I smile weakly. She’s right, of course. I’ll be happy to pay it forward someday. I’m just not sure the day will ever come when I’ll be in that position.
I leave to carry the last box to the car.
I like Willow.
Perhaps we can be friends.
Having good friends is never easy when you’re considered the most beautiful woman in town. Add the bisexuality to it, and I’m kind of a pariah. Any difference, no matter how subtle, that goes against the grain is wildly noticeable in a small town.
Willow’s from LA. Beautiful women who like girls are everywhere on the West Coast.
I stop, put my box down, and waltz back through the door of the salon.
“Did you forget something?” Willow asks.
“I did. Would you like to hang out sometime? Maybe get a drink or dinner?”
“Sure. Sounds fun.”
“Maybe…tonight. I’ll get Callie to join us.” I want to make sure Willow doesn’t think I’m hitting on her. I like her a lot, but I’m not attracted to her in that way.
“I’d love to get to know both of you better. After all, we’re family now. Or we will be once Callie marries Donny.” Willow pulls out a card and hands it to me. “I just had these made.”
The card is cute. Willow’s Th-HAIR-apy. And it’s pink, which is a strange choice. She’ll be doing men’s hair too, but hey, the line between the genders has been blurring for some time.
“My cell phone’s on there,” she says. “Tonight will be tough for me since I’ve still got so much to do here, and I need to get settled in the apartment. But any time after that is good. Give me a call.”
“I will. See you soon, Willow.”
I leave the salon once more, pick up my box, and walk around the back to where my car is parked.
And who’s standing right next to my car?
Brock.
His slightly wavy hair is unruly, and he’s wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt that stretches tight over his muscled chest and arms. Jeans and cowboy boots complete the picture, the jeans hugging his hips and thighs.
He walks toward me quickly and takes the box. “Let me get that for you.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks warm, and I’m sure I’m embarrassingly pink. “What are you doing here?”
“I think I need voice lessons.” He smiles.
“That’ll be the day.” I roll my eyes.
“Actually… The family always said I could sing. Maybe you can tell me if they’re right.”
“Brock, you did not come here for voice lessons.”
“Maybe I did, or maybe I didn’t. Why don’t we discuss it over lunch?”
I open my mouth to tell him no when my stomach lets out a huge growl.
Thanks, tummy. Nice betrayal.
Except it’s not really betrayal. The thought of having lunch with Brock? I don’t hate it. In fact, I like it. I really like it.
Which is not a good thing.
I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m looking for a sperm donor.
And if I were looking for a relationship, I certainly wouldn’t find it with the biggest womanizer in Snow Creek. No matter how much my body is tingling at his nearness.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You’ll take what as a yes?”
“Your stomach. Your stomach already told me yes. Now I just need to hear yes from your beautiful lips.”
Absently I bite my lower lip.
Brock sucks in a breath.
He’s attracted to me. I already know this, given our little kissing session the other night.
After he secures the box in my trunk and closes it, he moves toward me until only about a foot separates us. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”
This time I suck in a breath.
I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything.
A few seconds later, “So about that lunch?” He lifts his eyebrows.
Lunch. Lunch is lunch. Sometimes lunch is just lunch. What is lunch, anyway?
God, my thoughts aren’t making any sense. This does not bode well.
“Lunch it is. Where do you want to go?”
“We could walk over to Ava’s.”
“Sounds great.” Ava Steel’s bakery has the best sandwiches in Snow Creek, it’s close, and it will be quick. Perfect recipe for a lunch I’m not sure I should be having with a man I’m not sure I should be having it with.
Ava’s is only a few buildings down. I inhale the pungent yeasty aroma. Ava Steel makes better bread than anyone I know. No one tops her—not even my mother, and her sourdough is something legends are made of.
Ava sells bread, pastries, and sandwiches. The only drink she sells is bottled water from the Rocky Mountain Springs. No coffee, because she didn’t want to compete with Rita’s Café, which is also our local coffee shop.
Ava is different from the rest of the Steels. She bought this place on her own. Callie told me. She didn’t use any Steel money, she runs it by herself, and she pays her staff from the profits. She lives above the bakery.