Page 9 of Extreme Romancing in Idaho

He was flanked by a tall, muscly, curly-headed dude who could be on a calendar cut-out for working mechanics, and a shorter man with black hair, bronze skin, a thick mustache, and rockin’ a dad bod.

Grabbing the nearest Carhart jacket, I walked to Myles. “You have friends,” I muttered under my breath. “Perfect. This’ll speed things along.”

“I always make friends, you dumbass.” Myles spoke through his smile and then returned the man’s wave. “Mornin’ Blake.” He amped up his Texas twang, then nodded to the other two men. First to the tall, shaggy-headed one, then to the shorter one with the wicked Tom-Selleck-worthy mustache. “Chuck … Pedro. This is my friend from Texas I told you about, Remi.”

Blake took my hand and shook it.

“Dude, did you really BASE jump the Eiffel Tower?” Pedro asked on his way to the fountain drinks.

All three men stared at me, waiting for an answer. The rest of the store quieted as the two cashiers behind the register stopped mid-conversation and eyed me.

I looked at Myles. “You told them about that?”

“What can I say? I was one too many beers in.”

“You really did it?” Chuck grabbed a king-sized bag of peanut M&Ms and set them on the counter. “I thought Myles made it all up to impress us.”

It was our graduation trip from college—a jump years in the making. We’d been worried security would grab us before we had a chance to take the leap. They hadn’t. They’d taken us into custody after the jump of a lifetime, eventually releasing us after confiscating all our gear. It didn’t matter. We’d lived through it, and I’d do it all over again.

“Yeah,” I answered. “We jumped from the second platform and got some wicked footage.”

“You have to show it to us!” Pedro hollered while he filled his jumbo refillable container with Dr. Pepper.

“Next bros night out,” Myles promised.

“You have bros nights?” Endless locations. Countless community developments, and not once had Myles been incorporated into friendships like this.

“Yeah. At Tractor’s Bar and Grille.”

I’d like to say I wasn’t jealous. Yet I started strategizing ways to sabotage them, their standing in this town, and their mechanic business. First and foremost, their relationship with Myles.

Okay. So maybe I was a bit … overprotective. Myles was literally the only authentic friend in my life. Since elementary school, he’d been the one person grounding me to the real world. The rest of my family hated him. Yet, I’d managed to get him hired on as my project manager in charge of overseeing every job under my umbrella.

My life was a perpetual chess match.

“You want me to add a package of Reese’s for Maddie?” the older woman cashier asked.

“Oh yeah.” Blake walked to the shelf and grabbed the peanut butter cups. He slapped them on the counter. “Thanks, Wendy. She would have been so upset if I’d forgotten.”

Her name, coupled with her vague familiarity, helped me place her. “You’re the mayor’s wife.” I stifled my chuckle at how in a town this small, the mayor’s wife ran the cash register at the local gas station. Wendy’s curly hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and she wore a button-up flannel shirt and leggings. I couldn’t resist comparing this woman to the glittering social sphere of the mayor’s wife in Dallas.

“That’s right. I saw you with Nora and Tony yesterday. Remington, right? What has you coming here all the way from Texas? You work with Myles?” She bagged the candy and other snacks Pedro had set on the counter.

Verified. Word traveled faster than a scalded cat in small towns. “No,” I lied. “I’m looking for work. You know anyone hiring?”

Blake swiped his card in the decades old card reader. “You know Tony and Nora really could use help.”

“You got any farming skills?” Wendy slid the receipt into the sack and handed it to Blake.

Chuck grabbed it from her before Blake had a chance while Pedro dug in the bag, grabbing the M&Ms.

“Hey, those are mine.” Chuck reached for the candy Pedro held away from him.

“See you outside. I’ll finish filling the gas cans,” Pedro called on his way out the door with Chuck hot on his heels.

This conversation was going exactly as I wanted it to—the power of grifting. Mention Tony and Nora and “job” in proximity. Bada-bing-bada-boom. Their minds went right where I wanted them to.

I met Myles’ eyes over Blake’s shoulder before responding to Wendy’s question. Myles shook his head. I ignored him. “I’ve got loads of experience.”

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