Page 3 of Old-Fashioned Rancher

Avery clucked her tongue.

“That’s a shame. I guess you’ll have to go back on your word then.”

I frowned, confused.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t given my word to do anything.”

A small, wry smile curled the corner of Avery’s lips up.

Shit. That look meant trouble.

I stepped on the brakes and swerved to the shoulder of the road. Car horns blared around me, but I didn’t pay any attention to them. Bracing my arm on the back of Avery’s seat, I turned on her.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Avery Marie, don’t lie to me.”

She fiddled with a flower petal, the bouquet resting on her lap.

“I might have volunteered you for…something.”

I stifled a groan. This girl had always been wily and too smart for me. She hadn’t even been living in the same state with me for the last few years, and yet she’d still managed to wrangle me into something I would undoubtedly regret.

“Like what?” I demanded.

“Hosting the Ash Ridge Harvest Festival.”

It was a good thing she had me wrapped around her little finger. If anyone else tried to pull this shit on me, I’d bury them alive.

“That is never going to happen,” I said.

“But it would be a perfect way for you to meet people! Find a date. Flirt with some older single ladies.”

“I can find my own date without you meddling, thank you very much,” I countered.

“This isn’t meddling. It’s an intervention.”

I scrubbed a hand over my face, still reeling from being blindsided with all this.

“Avery, the festival is next weekend.”

“Exactly. So, we have a lot of planning and prep work to do before then.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line of disapproval.

“There are at least half a dozen other places to have this damn party,” I pointed out. “The fairgrounds, town hall, the Snowdrop Inn…”

“If you host it though, it shows how warm and welcoming you are to your community. A generous man ready and willing to spread his wealth around, ensuring that his humble little hometown gets a taste of the good life alongside you.”

A pause settled between us.

“That is the biggest crock of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” I said. “You should have been a lawyer.”

She beamed.

“I do make a compelling argument, don’t I?”

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