Page 18 of Lavender Hill

“Yeah, my boyfriend and I moved to the area about a year ago when he was asked to open the new Delta Bank branch in town.”

“Awesome, do you like it?”

“I was born and raised a Cali girl, but I’ve started to fall in love with it,” she says, and we both look to the elevator when it dings.

When the doors open, a very good-looking man who looks somehow familiar, with dark-blond hair and elegant but rustic features, sees Wyatt and jerks up his chin, then claps his eyes on Raven and says tersely, “I’ve been looking for you.”

“You told me to deliver the information Judge Hamilton wanted.”

“That was twenty minutes ago.” He stops the elevator door with his large hand when it starts to slide closed.

“Actually”—she looks at her watch—“it was twelve minutes ago,” she informs him, and he stares at her with his jaw tight, and she stares back with a “you don’t intimidate me” look before glancing between Wyatt and me.

“Sorry, guys, I need to get back to work.” She focuses on me. “It was really cool meeting you, Genevieve. Hopefully I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, hopefully,” I murmur, and she looks at Wyatt.

“Later.”

“Yeah, later,” he agrees before she turns to the elevator, where the guy is still holding the door, and I swear his jaw works in tandem with her hips as she sashays toward him. Once she’s inside with him, he removes his hand, jerks up his chin in our direction, and lets the doors slide closed.

“Okay then,” I mutter under my breath.

“Pardon?” Wyatt asks, and I turn to face him.

“Nothing. Did you sign?” I start to take the folder, but he doesn’t let it go.

“I don’t have a pen.”

“Oh.” I let go of the folder and dig into my bag to find one, then pass it over. When he finishes signing, I take the folder and watch him pull out his phone when it starts to ring. Even though I shouldn’t be looking to see who is calling him, I do and see that it’s my mom.

Sighing, he sends the call to voicemail.

“You should probably know that my mother has called in reinforcements.” I lift my eyes to his.

“Reinforcements?” He frowns.

“Yep, she called her knitting club friends, and they are all meeting tonight.”

“For what?”

“They’re going to brainstorm ways to get donations for your campaign.”

“I don’t need donations.”

“Apparently you do for the yard signs she’s already ordered and the ads she wants to run on the radio and local news channel.”

“Fuck me.” His eyes slide closed as his head drops back to his shoulders. My insides clench, imagining him with his head back and throat exposed while I straddle his lap.

I clear my throat with my skin suddenly hot. “I didn’t realize that you and my mom were so close.” He drops his chin to look at me.

“Your mom doesn’t give people the option of friendship.”

He’s not wrong.

My mom befriends every single person she meets, and I do mean everyone.

When I was probably ten, she and I were on our way home from Bozeman after one of my cheer competitions, and she picked up a hitchhiker. On the drive he shared his whole life story with Mom and told her that he was trying to make it home to his family after running away. Mom, being Mom, invited him to stay the night at our house, have a warm meal and a good night’s sleep. That was a time before any real cell service, so when we got home and Mom told Dad who the random guy in the van with us was, he lost his mind. That was the one time I ever remember my dad raising his voice at her, but in the end Mom got her way: Craig had dinner with us, took a shower in the guest bathroom, and slept on the couch in the living room while Dad sat on the stairs the whole night. The next morning, after breakfast, Dad drove Craig to the bus station, and two years later we drove to Missoula for Craig’s graduation from college, and a year after that we made the trip again to go to his wedding. To this day Craig, his wife Brittney, and their four kids make the trek to Gooseberry to visit my parents about once a year, and whenever my parents travel through Missoula, they always stop to visit Craig and his family.