Page 5 of Smoked

She tilts her head, studying me, and it makes me feel as if I'm standing under a spotlight. But she’s smiling.

"Wade!" Sloane's voice cuts across the lawn. "Oh, I see you've met Tess!"

"Tess?" I ask the woman in front of me. “Tess Fields, the English teacher at Deepwood High? Sloane's friend?"

She nods, gears clicking. “And you must be Wade Dawson, then. Riley’s dad.” She huffs out a little laugh. “I should’ve put two and two together. Nice to meet you,” she says, extending her hand.

I take her hand. It's warm and she's got a firm grip. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Sloane reaches us and clasps her hands together, all innocence.

This is the woman Sloane’s been trying to get me to meet for months.

And I'm standing here, twenty years her senior, with smoke in my beard, sauce on my apron, big enough to crush her.

Plus, she’s so goddamn hot it’s painful.

There’s no way this woman would want anything to do with me.

CHAPTER 2

TESS

The first thing I noticed when Wade shook my hand was that it swallowed mine. The sheer scale of it is mesmerizing—my entire palm and fingers disappeared into his big, meaty paw.

And yet he was so gentle, which only made me want to swoon even more.

Next to us, Sloane’s whole body is vibrating as she tries to hold back her excitement. She looks at me with bright, twinkling eyes.

I know that look. I’ve been on the receiving end of it for months—across brunch tables, over FaceTime, and in carefully worded texts that always start with so I was thinking and end with a man's name I did not ask for. Ever since she got together with Ike, she’s been a pest.

I love her, but I may have to kill her.

"Sloane mentioned you might be here," I say, which is the most generous version of the truth I can manage. What Sloane actually said, across multiple conversations, was you'd really like him, Tess, he's sweet and he's funny and he's this big teddy bear who makes the best ribs in Montana.

To which I said no thank you more times than I can count. Set ups have never gone well for me, and I specifically told her so.

"Yeah," he says. "She might've mentioned you, too."

"Small world," I offer.

"Tiny," he agrees.

Then he points to the line forming at his table. “I should…uh⁠—”

“Yes, please, feed these patient people,” I say, and he smiles before turning back to the smoker.

I lean down and pick up the tray.

Sloane loops her arm through mine and steers me away. She must know she’s about to get a mouthful.

"So," she says.

"Sloane."

"What? I was just going to ask⁠—"

"What I thought of him, right?”