Page 115 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

After two cups of wine that probably equaled a bottle, I agreed.

But now I’m questioning everything.

The speed of this courtship.

How much I really know Randy.

The water runs cold. I never got around to asking anyone about the water heater and got used to it. And for some reason, it’s at this moment that I realize I’ve completely dropped the ball on work all week.

Zachery has done all my research, drafted all my emails. Since Thursday, when we got busy for the weekend events, I haven’t even read them over. I’ve just hit send.

Maybe it’ll slow down after the summer events are done.

I blow-dry my hair and curl the ends. I allow myself a smidge of sparkle in my makeup. Just enough to be festive, but not so much that I draw attention to it. Last night, I saw the line drawn between the practical women of Glass and the ones who put a lot of time and effort into their appearance.

There weren’t a lot of the latter, and they seemed separate somehow, as if worrying about something as useless as looks makes you untrustworthy.

I don’t like it, but small towns can be that way. Mine was.

Even with the divide, no one was unpleasant about it, at least not in front of me. This is unlike Hollywood, where getting catty about someone’s physical appearance is a cherished pastime.

This is better. Everything here is better, other than the cold showers.

If I stay here much longer, I’ll ask Randy to fix it. He and Jack and their dad can manage just about anything, from running electrical to rerouting a drain. The tree farm requires a lot of upkeep, even if there aren’t any animals.

And that’s the best part. Farm life without all the cows. Just a pair of horses and a passel of dogs.

When I proclaim myself ready to face the ladies downstairs, I move all my products and even my damp towel to my room in case this bathroom needs to be used by guests of the tea.

I’ll remind Zachery to do the same, although as I do one more bathroom check before heading down, I bend over to sniff his ungodly wonderful soaps.

Heaven.

I knock on his door. He peeks out, running his hand through his hair. He’s visibly relieved that it’s me. “Oh, hey, Kelsey.”

“I’m thinking the bathroom downstairs might not be enough for the tea. You might want to move your things or else entrance half the county with the siren call of your fancy soaps.”

He laughs. “Will do.” He opens the door a little wider. “You’re looking more California today.”

My body heats up as he takes me in. For a moment, I revel in it, letting him fill me with self-confidence. Then his eyes meet mine, and I want to sink into him. Will this feeling never go away?

Focus, Kelsey. Don’t let the charmer ensnare you, today of all days.

I give him a silly curtsy. “Do you like it, kind sir? I’m seeking the approval of the queen.” There’s a waver in my last word. I have to pull it together.

Zachery doesn’t seem to notice. His chuckle is low and deep. “The all-powerful grandmama. Good luck.”

I straighten, trying to keep my wayward emotions under wraps. “Thank you. Will you come down for the tea?”

“Hell no. My understanding from last night is that no man with a pair of balls in his possession will step foot at the homestead during teatime. Their words, not mine.”

“Okay, well, text me if you need me to sneak you a tea cake.”

He nods. “Have a good time.”

When he disappears into his room, I take a moment to compose myself.Of course you get mesmerized, Kelsey. He’s the most handsome man you’ve ever met. He can charm the girdle off a grandma. It’s okay. You’re okay.

I take the stairs slowly, trying to get a feel for what I’m about to walk into.

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