Page 40 of Crossing the Line (Whitecap)

I was going to need it after that call.

Chapter Seventeen

Sawyer

It had beenthree weeks since Renee’s birthday, and to my surprise, Trent was still here, showing no signs of leaving, not that I was concerned about it. It wasn’t like I’d miss him when he finally left. Because I wouldn’t. Not at all.

I was ashamed to admit it—and there was no way in hell I’d ever tellher—but Luna had been right about the falls. That spot was romantic as hell, and despite my passionate insistence that I could control myself, I hadn’t actually believed it. That was why I’d been putting Trent off for the past few weeks, making excuses as to why I didn’t have time to take him out there to see them. They ranged from having to work, to needing to get some pottery done, to feeling a little flu-y. I wasn’t proud of it, but I had well and truly chickened out.

Regardless, we still talked regularly. I occasionally met him for coffee, and he’d come over for dinner a few times. On the days I was at Warren’s, he’d swing by to pick up a few items, then stick around to chat with me and Georgia for a bit. He’d even hung with me in the workshop one day, bringing cash with him to purchase that bowl he’d asked about weeks earlier.

When August started to creep to a close, Whitecap began gearing up for the Autumn Harvest Festival that took place the first weekend in September. Everyone was jazzed, and the atmosphere was electric in the days leading up to it.

One of the silver linings was that I didn’t have to lie to Trent to get out of taking him to tour the falls. Each year I set up a booth where I sold my pottery, and I always made a killing, so I’d been working day and night on new pieces.

Today was the first day of the festival, and while Sam usually helped me get all my stuff there and set up, when Trent found out I’d have a booth, he’d insisted on lending a hand.

It had been funny as hell to watch Sam scowl and grunt about not needing the extra help, but it only took me half the time to get everything loaded and unloaded, and I didn’t have to doanyof the heavy lifting, so I kept my mouth shut.

Truth was, the childish rivalry between the two of them had turned into quite the show. Loyalty had been cast aside, and everyone in town was placing bets on who’d come out the victor, and, as of right then, it was split down the middle.

Of course Monica had bet on her husband because, in her words, she’d never hear the end of it. I felt like I should cast my vote for Trent. Georgia and Dezzy were steering clear, “Like Switzerland,” Dezzy had told me, and Luna was still waiting to see who’d pull ahead before putting money down on either one of them.

“There’s one more box in the back of my truck,” Trent said, swiping his forearm across his brow. “I’ll take the dolly and grab it. Be right back.”

Sam let out a snort. “Real man doesn’t need a dolly for one box,” he decreed, even though he looked like he was close to passing out. They’d been doing their best to one-up each other all morning long, and it was only a matter of time before one of them gave themselves a hernia.

“The box is half your size. Even you couldn’t lift it on your own,” Trent challenged.

Sam’s chest puffed up. “Watch me.”

“You break any of that pottery, you’re reimbursing me,” I shouted after them as they race walked back to Trent’s truck. I shook my head and let out a sigh as I watched them grow smaller and smaller. “Is it just me or is this rivalry getting totally out of hand?”

“It’s just you,” Monica answered without preamble. “This rivalry has Sam so keyed up”—she leaned into me and whispered the rest so Renee couldn’t overhear—“we nearly broke the bed the other night. I hope it never ends.”

With a burst of laughter, I got to work unfolding the tables and covering them in colorful scarves while Monica and Renee unpacked boxes.

“Looks like Trent won,” Monica said as we finished up with the first table.

I looked back to see Trent pushing the last box on the collapsible dolly while Sam trailed a few feet after him, looking for all the world like someone had just told him that the puppy he’d asked Santa for had fallen out of the sleigh and plummeted to his death.

“All right, I agree that this feud between them is pretty hilarious,” I conceded just before the two men entered the tent through the back.

“Thanks for your help, guys. I really appreciate it.”

Trent gave me those dimples, paired with a soft look. “Happy to help, darlin’.”

“Happy to get in the way is more like it,” Sam grumbled.

Trent looked at Sam, the picture of calm and collected. “I think you and I are gonna be best friends. I can feel it.”

Monica snorted, and I didn’t bother holding back my giggle.

“Come on, Mon. I need a beer.”

“It’s eight in the morning!” she exclaimed as Sam clamped onto her hand and started dragging her away.

“Fine. A funnel cake, then.”

---