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I laugh as I head into the hallway. “I bet you were a handful to raise.”

“I don’t think I was bad, actually. I mean, I had moments. But generally I was pretty levelheaded.”

He follows me as I shuffle down the corridor. He leaps ahead and tugs the front door open before I get the chance.

“Thanks,” I say, dipping my head to hide my smile and slipping outside.

The chirp of crickets welcomes us as we take the few steps across the porch. We stay quiet until our shoes hit the gravel of the driveway.

“Aren’t you going to lock up?” he asks.

“No.”

Shock registers across his face. “You can’t just leave your doors unlocked like that. I know that it’s Honey Creek and all, but you still gotta lock your doors.”

“No, I don’t.” I laugh. “No one is going to bother the place. Besides, if they do, Liv will see.”

“What if she doesn’t know we’re not there? Our cars are there.”

“She will.” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “Even if she doesn’t, someone will call her after they see us at Tank’s and want the scoop.”

He slows his pace and shoves his hands in his pockets. “The scoop, huh? What will that consist of?”

“Just that the new vet in town was having dinner with me. You and I getting married is somewhat of a scandal around here,” I joke. “I mean, I was sort of the Most Eligible Bachelorette, you know. And you slide in here and put a ring on me.”

I look across my shoulder.

The dimple in the center of his chin creases as he mulls over whether I’m kidding or not. That little indentation used to be my go-to when he would tease me about my freckles. I’d tell him at least my chin didn’t look like a baby’s butt. But now, I kind of like it. It gives him a playfulness, and it’s a warning that he’s chock-full of trouble.

He turns and catches me looking at him.

“Were you really?” he asks.

“What?”

“The Most Eligible Bachelorette.”

My cheeks split into a wide grin. “I was kidding, Doc.”

This seems to satisfy him. He worries his bottom lip back and forth as we mosey our way up the road.

“I hope our scandal is really good,” he says finally. “There’s something fun in getting to be the bad boy that leads you astray.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but our scandal is more of a low-key thing. We’ll probably only get one, maybe two more good days out of it, because the scandal mill is pretty busy right now.”

“Ooh. What are we gossiping about?”

“Well,” I say, digging my hands into my pockets too. “The mayor of the town next door got drunk, stole a police car, and parked it on the courthouse lawn last week. So I’m pretty sure everyone is still dishing about that.”

His eyes light up. “The town next door? Is that where we used to go to the Fourth of July festival every year?”

“Yes. Barnstable. Same place.”

“Wow. I haven’t thought about that for a long time. Do you remember those Popsicles we used to get that looked like red, white, and blue bombs? And then we’d climb up on the—”

“Hill by the bank and watch the fireworks,” I say, finishing the sentence for him.

He nods, a look of satisfaction painted on his face. I’m sure I have something similar on mine too. I can’t believe he remembers those silly Popsicles and our Fourth of July tradition, but there’s something acutely wonderful about the fact that he does.

“I tell everyone I’m with on the Fourth every year about the time the fire department let them off and the one came sailing right over our heads,” he says with a laugh. “No one ever believes me about that.”

“I was scared of fireworks for years afterward.”

“Logically,” he says, shaking his head. “Man, we had some good times around here. Do you remember the summer when I was into baseball cards and you were into the bubble gum that came in the packets?”

I let my head fall back. “I loved that stuff. It had the best flavor. I’d forgotten about that.”

“And you used to go into . . . was it called Harvey’s?”

“Yes,” I say with a laugh. “He blamed you for throwing that baseball through his window.”

“The old codger. That was . . . Aaron that did that,” he says, his face jerking toward mine. “I saw him today. What a coincidence.”

“Not really. This is Honey Creek, you know.”

He half shrugs. “True.”

We step over a broken piece of sidewalk and around a bicycle whose rider is nowhere to be seen.

“I’d forgotten about Harvey’s,” I admit. “You would give me the money, and I’d go in and buy them since he wouldn’t let you in.”

He bumps me with his shoulder. “And then I’d split the gum with you. Pretty good plan, if you ask me.”


Tags: Adriana Locke Honey Creek Romance