“Of course you are, and Leo will eat every last one while I curse your name.”

  I should run back to the party before Hazel sees me eavesdropping. She’s likely to think this is another one of my character flaws. But I don’t move, despite Maria’s warning.

  Instead I stay right where I am, and when Hazel walks into the foyer, she jumps when I say, “Hey.”

  Hazel puts a hand on her chest, gasping, “Wyatt! You scared the shit out of me.” Her eyes narrow as she realizes where I am and how close to the dining room that is. “Could you hear us?”

  I nod, completely unapologetic, ready for her fire to return. And it does. “You know that’s a jerk move. That was a private conversation.”

  I shrug, keeping my voice low. “It’s my house.”

  She turns to walk off dismissively, obviously ready to brand me a “fucking Ford” again.

  “Wait.”

  “What?” she snaps.

  I don’t know what I was going to say, or what I should say. All I can see is the pink of Hazel’s lips and fire in her dark eyes. There’s a moment where my brain tries to function, to come up with something to make her stay, but in the end, I go with my gut, not my mind. “Fuck it.”

  I lean in, catching her jaw in my hand, cradling it firmly but gently enough that she could easily pull away from me. I’m giving her a chance.

  She doesn’t take it.

  Instead, her mouth opens in surprise, and though I don’t think she realizes it, she leans into my touch. It takes less than a single heartbeat before I’m kissing Hazel Sullivan.

  Her lips are soft, that’s my first thought. Softer than silk, softer than the downiest feathers, but pressing back into me. And taste of the last course’s mint custard as I draw her breath into my mouth, relishing her.

  She resists me for a moment, then melts into me, her body pressing against mine. Relief flows through me as I surrender the tight rein I’ve been holding myself under, but it’s followed by sheer heat that’s building fast. I cup her neck, my thumbs tracing her jaw, and she responds by teasing her tongue along my upper lip. I meet her with my own, groaning as we admit the truth. We want each other.

  I want to explore her, every lush curve and creamy inch of her skin, map out what makes her writhe and brings her pleasure, but the need for oxygen forces us apart. “You want to get out of here?”

  I can see in her eyes she considers it, but only for a moment. “No, I have to get back to the party. Avery’s party.”

  I’m disappointed but not surprised. I told myself slow and then smashed that to fucking smithereens, but the least I can do is give her a second to play nice.

  The least you could do is get her to a room with a lock before fucking us both to exhaustion. Not here in the hallway.

  But she’s right, and it makes me sigh. “Okay, but this isn’t over. I’ll go back in first while you pull yourself together.”

  Her brows pull together and she straightens her back, smoothing her dress. “What’s wrong?”

  I smirk, wiping my lip with my thumb and feeling the trace of gloss she marked me with, the same one that’s currently a little bit smeared on her own lips. “You look like someone who just had the shit kissed out of them.”

  With that, I spin and hurry back to the living room, loving that she’s growling like a pissed-off kitten behind me. When I enter, Wren looks at me with narrowed eyes, one perfectly drawn brow arched questioningly.

  When Hazel walks in a few moments later, Wren’s lips purse as she fights a laugh. She thinks Hazel and I sneaked off together. Little does she know how far from the truth that is, nor how much I wish she were right.

  Now I just have to figure out how to get rid of Rachel without hurting her feelings or spilling the tea about what Hazel and I just did to anyone else. I trust that Wren can keep her mouth shut.

  Next? Continue what Hazel and I started.

  Except we did promise to get some sleep tonight in preparation for the wedding. But damned if I’m going to get any rest when I’m thinking of that kiss.

  But I’m a man of my word. For tonight.

  Chapter 12

  WYATT

  The dawn breaks, and I roll out of bed having caught maybe an hour of sleep, two if you count that half-asleep, half-awake state you get into where you know you can hear the wind blowing outside your window, but at the same time, an hour feels like five minutes, and five minutes feels like an hour behind your closed eyelids.

  I’m a little surprised to find Hazel in the kitchen, setting up cakes and small cupcakes on trays. I smile when I recognize the ones I helped with and feel a sense of pride until I see a guy helping her. He’s a few years younger than me, with dark hair and eyes, and his short-sleeve shirt must be different from his usual because the tan line around his muscled bicep flashes as he moves the cakes.

  Jealousy burns hot in an instant at their camaraderie and Hazel’s easy laugh with him when he wipes icing on her nose.

  I go in to introduce myself, and interrupt them. “Hey, guys, you two look busy. Can I offer you a hand?”

  The guy gives me a once-over and grins as he holds his hand up, showing a glob of icing and then pointedly licking his finger salaciously. “Don’t you have something to do? Like play a round of golf or get your hair done?”

  Hazel glares at him, communicating something I don’t understand, and he grins. “Jesse. Pleasure to meet you.”

  He didn’t give a last name. Smart man, but in a town this size, I could find him.

  “Wyatt. Nice to meet you too.” Both of us are lying through our teeth about that one. “Seriously, can I do anything? I helped make these cupcakes, so the least I can do is help set them out.”

  Jesse’s eyes narrow. And for whatever reason, I feel like we’re now in a dick-measuring contest. “You helped make them?” he echoes.

  “Yeah,” I reply evenly. “That a problem?”

  “When was that?”

  I grin. “When Hazel took me to the bakery after hours one night.”

  Jesse looks from me to Hazel, accusation in his eyes. I can’t help but feel a bit smug. “You took him to the bakery?”

  “We got all the toppings and half the cupcakes ready for the Candied Nut Cups,” she argues back.

  Jesse looks unimpressed. “Mom know you had a Ford in there?”

  The fuck? Is my family that hated in this town?

  But then something else he said registers.

  “Mom?” I ask, and Hazel backhands Jesse’s arm.

  “Way to go, jerk,” she snaps as Jesse shrugs, uncaring. She sighs and points at him. “Wyatt, this is my clueless brother, Jesse.”

  I laugh softly, and offer a real handshake this time. “Gotta admit, it’s better to meet you now that I know you’re Hazel’s brother.”

  Jesse’s laugh is a little darker. “See if you feel that way after I tell Mom you were in her baby.”

  My eyes jump open and Hazel hisses. “Jesse!”

  Jesse smirks triumphantly. “I meant the bakery, not you, but thanks for the confirmation.”

  Hazel’s slap this time is more like a punch in the chest, and she puts some pop on it too. “I haven’t fucked him! And even if I did, it’s none of your business.”

  “Seriously? A Ford, and you think I wouldn’t care?” Jesse asks. “Or Mom or Aunt Etta?”

  “Aunt Etta and Mom know. And while you’re all Ford-this and Ford-that, do I need to remind you who signs your paychecks?” She pauses, then steamrolls ahead: “Jed Ford. Remember that?”

  I feel like my brain’s in a blender with all this new information. “Wait. You work for my uncle?”

  Jesse scoffs. “Most of the town works for him in one way or another. Might as well rename this fucking place Jedburg. Or Fordville.”

  I grunt, unable to argue with his assessment.

  “Don’t mean we like the fucker, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Well, we can agree on that, at least,” I tell him. There’s a short silence, an acknowledged truce, and I decide to push my luck, willing to risk Jed hearing about my snooping for insight from a new source outside my family. “What’re your thoughts on the new-subdivision thing?”

  “Hard to say. It’s above my pay grade, and it’ll keep us all working, which is a good thing,” Jesse says. “But to get it started, it’s going to fuck over the residents out there now. And once it’s done, it’s probably gonna fuck up the whole town.”

  “How so?” I ask, surprised by his frankness.

  Jesse shrugs. “One hand, it’ll drive up rents. You think I can handle my rent being doubled because some hipster from out of town wants to overpay? And there’d be lots of folks moving in, not caring about the way we do things or how things have always been.”

  “You mentioned the people there now?” I ask, and Jesse nods.

  “That’s what the rezoning hearing is for,” Jesse says, looking at me like I should already know this.

  “I’ve been gone for a long time,” I explain, “out of touch with my family and what’s been happening here. I feel like I’m playing catch-up.”

  “Look, there are about five homesteads out there where Jed wants to build the subdivision. They’re all zoned farming because those folks have worked the small plots for decades. For the subdivision to break ground, it has to be rezoned for single-family use and permits for development of the amenities center.”

  Damn. “What happens to the people and their farms?”

  “They’ll be forced out for their land,” Jesse says, giving me a strange look. “Sure, they’ll be compensated, but some of them would rather keep their land. Not to mention I figure they won’t get the amount they deserve. The surrounding folks will end up moving out soon enough, too, because the property taxes for the whole area will go up once the subdivision is built. Expanding out will probably be phase two or something. Really will be Jedburg at that point, because let’s be real, he ain’t gonna let the town be named Ford-anything. Folks might get confused and think it’s to honor your dad or some shit on account of him being the beloved mayor up till now. Jed’d want his name front and center.”

  “Well, shit,” I mutter, not knowing what else to say. Jesse is joking about it, but I wouldn’t put something like that past Uncle Jed. Nor am I surprised at what else he’s been up to.

  We’re silent for a few minutes, all of us putting desserts on the trays. For my part, I’m mulling this new information over. Uncle Jed really is going big and might fuck over the whole town. Or at least change the town’s feel.

  “I’m gonna check in with Mom. See if she needs any help out in the tent,” Jesse says when the tray he’s been working on is full.

  He leaves and Hazel looks at me thoughtfully. “You really didn’t know?”

  “First I knew about the subdivision was driving back into town.”

  Hazel tilts her head, examining me for any untruth. “I believe you. Is there anything you can do to help?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I need to talk to Winston, but today isn’t the day for that.”

  We finish the rest of the trays, and as Jesse takes the last one out, Hazel checks the clock on the oven. “It’s a busy day and we need to go get ready.”

  “Just one thing,” I interject, stepping close enough to feel her heat and inhale the faint smell of vanilla on her. Before she can argue, I press my lips to hers in a quick kiss. A tiny, teasing taste for both of us. I pull back, grinning. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.”

  Her answering shuddered breath lets me know that she’s just as affected by my closeness as I am by hers. But that reassurance turns to laughter when she growls, “Asshole,” as I leave the kitchen.

  I go upstairs and take a shower, thinking about what Hazel and Jesse told me. I know Uncle Jed has big plans, he always does. But throwing people off their land, out of their homes, is taking it too far, even for him. The protest signs make a lot more sense now.

  What is Jed thinking? Money, I’m sure. If I had to make a bet, he’s only thinking about the money.

  But Cold Springs is so much more than that. Dad’s worries make a lot more sense now too.

  If he’s the mayor who leads the city-council vote to rezone land, which results in constituents being essentially kicked off their properties, he’ll be booted out of office in the next election for sure.

  Being mayor means everything to Dad, and losing that would destroy him.

  I think back to before everything went wrong, back to when Dad was always smiling at ribbon-cutting ceremonies and giving speeches at Francine Lockewood’s library events about city history. I may not know what’s going on now, but I know one thing . . . Dad loves this town, which is why this is so confusing. He has personally supported Little League teams, delivered warm soup and blankets to elderly citizens during snowstorms, and planted trees in the city park to honor a guy who died overseas. He bleeds Cold Springs. Jesse called him “the beloved mayor,” which isn’t an exaggeration. Until now.

  But if there’s one thing that we’ve been taught, it’s that family comes first. And while Dad might be the older of the two brothers, Jed has always been the more powerful and more conniving of the two.

  With age, I can see that Dad and Jed have always been day and night. I replay stories I’ve heard of their younger days . . . of Dad serving on student council and Jed leading a coup against the teachers, arguing that homework was unconstitutional, of Dad being prom king and Jed being the football quarterback, of Dad shaking hands after a quiet entrance and Jed strutting into every room like he owned the place. One, studious, kind, and well liked. The other, a charming, manipulative life of the party. The perfect yin and yang, a complementary team. But they diverged—Dad into public service and Jed into self-service. Until Jed’s big plan of rezoning. And I wonder again: How did he rope Dad into this?

  I’m lucky that my younger brother is nothing like Jed, especially given that he’s been under his influence these last few years. I don’t know what I’d do if Winston were remotely like Jed. But I’m guessing drinking a little too much to cope would be the least of it.

  I get ready, dressed in my suit from Mrs. Hinsley. I’m still not sure it was worth all the awkward measuring in my underwear, but I can give it to her. It’s fitted to perfection.

  Downstairs again, I find Dad, Winston, and Uncle Jed in the living room, all three with a glass of scotch. “A little early for celebrating, isn’t it? Or are we squashing nerves?”

  Winston turns to me, holding his glass up. “No second thoughts here. I’m ready to do this before Avery starts thinking with ‘the good brain God gave her,’ as Grandpa Joe says.”

  Jed guffaws. “That pretty little thing is lucky you’re marrying her, not the other way around.”

  “Jed!” Dad protests. “For fuck’s sake, the boy’s about to walk down the aisle.”

  Interesting. Dad was telling Winston he deserved everything, and now he’s calling out Jed for basically saying the same thing, albeit a bit more crudely. I guess even Dad has limits.

  Jed takes a sip of his drink, unflustered. “Just speaking the truth, and we all know it.”

  Winston shakes his head. “I’m the lucky one. That’s what I know.”

  It’s the smallest disagreement, but it’s telling about where Winston’s loyalties lie. He’s solidly with Avery, first and foremost. I’m glad because that’s exactly where they should be.

  “Good for you, boy,” Jed says sarcastically, on the verge of condescending. “Guess I’d better get out there before the fun starts.”

  He swallows the rest of his scotch in one gulp and heads out the back door. Dad, Winston, and I silently watch as he walks toward the crowd of people already sitting in the rows of white chairs. Jed waves at everyone like he’s the guest of honor, shaking hands and smiling wide as he makes his way toward the front of the groom’s-side seating.

  “Does he know what an asshole he is, or is he truly oblivious?” I ask. Dad sighs heavily, but Winston raises his brows, letting me silently know his answer.

  Cara’s assistant pops her head around the corner. “Gentlemen, are you ready? The photographer has done all the photos of the ladies and wants to do yours before we set up for first looks.”

  Winston smiles dreamily and I tease, “You imagining Avery in her dress or out of it?”

  He throws a quick backhand to my chest. “Watch it. That’s my wife you’re talking about, asshole.”

  “Wife to be,” I correct, though I’m smiling now, too, glad that I’m here to see Winston marry Avery.

  “We really need to hurry,” the assistant says, bidding us to follow her quick footsteps to the front door.

  Outside, we find Cara bossing the photographer around. “You have ten minutes to get the shots on the list. If they’re not listening, you let me know and I’ll handle them.”

  I look to Winston and Dad, who are wearing matching expressions of surprise. I suspect my brows are equally high on my forehead. Out of the side of his mouth, Dad says quietly, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not scared of her, but I’m gonna say cheese and stand where I’m told. I suggest you two do the same so she doesn’t tell your mother that we were difficult.”

  “You scared of Mom?” I question.

  Dad glances at me before nodding. “Hell yes.” To Winston, he adds, “And if you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll pay Avery the same respect. A little fear can be a healthy thing.”

  Before I can question what else Dad might be afraid of, Cara directs us to stand on the front steps and Wren appears from somewhere, joining us as the photographer begins snapping away. We’ve taken a few shots when I hear a voice call out, “Hey, Mayor Bill, you got a minute?”

  Our eyes follow the sound, and I see a small group of people standing outside the closed gate.

  “Seriously?” Dad mutters. “Right now?”

  Cara snarls, “I’ll take care of this.”

  “No, let me.” Dad sighs. “Better for me to handle it before Jed gets wind that they’re here.” And with that decided, he straightens his back and heads over to the fence. I see him greet the men outside the fence with handshakes and begin talking. It doesn’t look friendly exactly, but it seems civil at least.