Page 21 of Lavender Hill

“Yeah, times have changed. It’s not like it was when we were in high school.”

“Whatever. I still think he’s a jerk.”

“Sure.” She tips her head to the side, smiling. “You think he’s hot.”

“Yeah, and I also think that Russell Crowe circa his Gladiator era is good looking, but rumor is he’s a total dick, so I don’t like him either. I just like how he looks.”

“Sure.” She hides her smile by taking a sip of wine.

“Anyways, I don’t think that matters. I’m sure he has a girlfriend.”

“He doesn’t.” She smirks. “He’s dated a few people, but nothing serious. He was even seeing Mia Hassel for a while, but now they are just friends.” I haven’t seen Mia in years, probably since we graduated, but I remember her being very pretty. I also remember her being a total bitch. The last time I heard about her, she was dating some old guy who everyone said she was with just because she wanted his money.

“I’m surprised he’s not married.”

“He was married but something happened with his ex. They divorced, and he moved here.”

“Why here?”

“You sure do have a lot of questions about him when you’re not interested.”

“I’m just curious about the new sheriff of Gooseberry.”

“Mm-hmm.” She rolls her eyes. “I honestly don’t know why he chose to move here. He didn’t know anyone that I know of, and his family is all down South.”

“Hmm.” I take a sip of wine, finding it curious that Wyatt moved here to our small town without knowing anyone. This isn’t someplace that is on any real map—I mean it’s obviously on the map, but we really haven’t made a name for ourselves for any reason, like “safest town in Montana” or “best place to raise a family.” Sure, we have Cali’s world-famous gooseberry pie, but that’s about it, and even that isn’t true.

“I do know that he’s handsome and that your parents and brothers all love him.”

“They love everyone.”

“They didn’t love Johnathan.”

“That’s because he’s like the city slicker in a Hallmark movie. No one likes when that guy comes to town. He doesn’t count.”

“Speaking of . . .”

“We weren’t.” I cut her off. The last thing I want to do is talk about my ex.

“I was just wondering if you’ve heard from him.”

“Not since I blocked his number when he called me drunk to tell me that I’m the one that got away and was the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“Well, at least the last part is the truth. He will never find another woman better than you.” I take a sip of wine, not sure that I agree. I’m now considered old to anyone under the age of twenty-five, I’m starting over, and I’m living in a house that I’m not even paying rent for. I’m sure that he can find someone better than me and probably has. He never had an issue with women vying for his attention; I just didn’t know he was returning their attention or pursuing other women while we were together. “Enough about that. How has work been this week?” She changes the subject while walking to the couch in the living room.

Following, I tell her about the Lavender Hill house, and the house that a couple in town asked me to list for them, and we catch up about her plan to open a small single-chair salon in town next year. Then about thirty minutes later, my brother gets home, and I hang with the two of them for a bit, getting a glimpse of how disgustingly cute they are as a couple, before I decide to call it a night. When I finally get back to my place, it’s too late to take the bath I’ve been dreaming about. So I take a shower and crawl into bed, where I pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Chapter 8:

Spiderweb

Wyatt

At Cali’s Diner, where Elsie asked me to meet her for breakfast so that we can talk about her ideas for my campaign, I spot her as soon as I walk through the door. I also see that she’s not alone, and I recognize the woman sitting across from her despite the fact that all I can see is her long blond hair. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what Genevieve’s hair would look like down, what it might feel like wrapped in my fist. Or what it’d look like spread out on my pillow, and smell like if I buried my face in it. Walking up to the table, I notice Elsie smile when she sees me, and Genevieve tips her head back, her eyes widening, making it obvious that she wasn’t expecting to see me here. Fuck, she looks beautiful with her long hair down and no makeup on her face, giving me the first glimpse of freckles I didn’t know she had, which spread from the bridge of her nose out across her cheeks.

“Scoot, honey, so Wyatt can sit,” Elsie orders her daughter, and Genevieve looks at her mom with her lips pressed into a flat line.

“You didn’t mention that Wyatt was meeting us when you invited me to breakfast this morning,” Genevieve tells her mom, sliding across the booth seat, making room for me.