Page 6 of Big and Brawny
"Orson," she says softly, and her voice has a quality I haven't heard before.
"Yeah?"
"Nothing. Just... Thank you. For this, for letting me train here. It means more than you know."
"Thank you for asking. I'd forgotten how much better training is with good company."
We finish our workouts in comfortable silence, but there's an awareness between us that wasn't there before. When Bronte bends to pick up a plate, I catch myself watching the curve of her waist. When I'm doing overhead presses, I notice her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders.
"I saw your cousin in town yesterday," she says as we're cleaning up. "At least, I think it was your cousin. Tall, dark-haired, actually smiling while helping a small woman with bright yellow boots load furniture into a truck?"
I laugh. "That would be Holt and Marigold. The yellow boots are a dead giveaway. She's always wearing something colorful. Completely transformed him in just a few months—he used to be the grumpiest man in town."
"They looked happy. It's nice to see."
"It is. Though it took some getting used to, seeing Holt smile so much. My other cousin, Boone, has been giving him endless grief about it." I pause, considering my next words carefully. "They met back in August, right around when Boone met Savannah. It's been a whirlwind for both of them."
"That's... fast," Bronte says, her eyebrows raised.
"Hartwell men tend to know what they want when they find it," I say, then immediately feel heat rise to my face at the implication. "I mean—"
"I get it," she says, her smile gentle. "When it's right, it's right."
"Yeah." I clear my throat. "Are you planning to go to the Harvest Festival this weekend? The whole town turns out for it, and May's Diner does a special menu."
"I was thinking about it. I signed up to help with the bakery's booth, but only for the morning shift."
"Maybe I could meet you there? After your shift?" The question comes out before I can overthink it.
Her smile is radiant. "I'd like that. I finish at noon."
"I'll be there."
As we walk toward the door, I notice Bronte shiver slightly. The morning is chilly, and she's only wearing a light jacket over her workout clothes.
"Here," I say, reaching for my flannel shirt that's hanging by the door. "Take this."
"Oh, I'm fine, really—"
"Please. It's getting colder, and you have a drive back to your place." I hold the shirt out to her. "I have plenty."
She accepts it with a soft "thank you," and something about seeing her in my clothes makes my chest tight. The shirt is large on her, but she wraps it around herself like it's precious.
"See you tomorrow at the festival?" she asks, pausing at her car.
"Noon, by the bakery booth. I'll be there."
I watch her drive away, her hand raised in a wave, and realize I'm standing in my driveway smiling like an idiot. I haven't felt this way about anyone in a long time—maybe ever. There's something about Bronte that makes me want things I'd given up on, makes me think about possibilities I'd long since abandoned.
My phone buzzes in my pocket with a text from Boone:Don't forget, engagement dinner tonight. 7pm. And bring that gym girl you've been smiling about.
I shake my head, but can't stop smiling.Her name is Bronte. And we're not at that stage yet.
His response is immediate:Yet being the operative word. See you at 7.
As I head back inside to shower and get ready for the day, I can't help but wonder what it would be like to bring Bronte to family dinner. To introduce her to my cousins officially, to see her interact with Marigold and Savannah. The thought makes my stomach flutter with anticipation.
But first, the Harvest Festival. Tomorrow at noon. I'm already counting the hours.
