Chapter Three

Demi glanced up at some movement headed toward her, and she froze.

There was a tall man striding for her—built like a tank, baseball cap pulled low over sunglass-covered eyes, and a phenomenal beard. She could make out the perfect definition of his pecs behind the thin material of his blue T-shirt. He held a piece of paper in one hand, and walked with the confidence of a man who knew exactly who he was.

She was staring, and he was headed straight for her.

Busted, she forced her gaze back to the line of kids preparing to shoot the apple cannons. Heat blared up her neck and landed in her cheeks.

That was one fine, well-built man. Good gah! Where was Rachel? The man stood at the back of the line. As the kiddos all shot their apples at the oversized targets, she texted Rachel.

Hot man in my line, no wedding ring, come scoop him up! Blue T-shirt. Send.

"Ew!" Rachel's voice yelped loudly.

She looked around and spotted her near the beer tent. Her best friend was standing there holding a beer, her mouth hanging open and a disgusted glare aimed right at Demi.

What? she mouthed.

"That's Tyler!" Rachel announced loudly.

Demi had never truly known what the word "horrified" was until this exact moment.

The man in the line turned and looked at Rachel, and then back at Demi. He removed his sunglasses in one of those absolutely obnoxious hot-boy moves, exposing those familiar ice-blue eyes.

Tyler looked different with all that muscle on his tall frame, and the grown-man beard, and longer hair that stuck out just right under his baseball cap. And was that…was that a sleeve of tattoos down one arm?

Her ears were on fire now, too.

"Um, uh… Ben!" She flagged down one of the new workers her mom had hired for the season, who happened to be walking by. "Cover me on the apple cannons for five minutes."

"What? No. Your mom wants me to go do maintenance on the corn maze."

"Ben!"

"Your mom is the boss."

Gah, these teenagers had an attitude. "I'll give you five bucks!"

He crossed his arms. "Pay now and I'll cover you for five minutes, and you have to tell your mom you made me do this if she sees me."

Tyler was out of the line now, and walking toward her. "Fine!" Frustrated, she pulled her wallet out of her back pocket and dug through the money to discover she only had twenty-dollar bills.

"I'll take the twenty," Ben told her. Of course he would.

"Here." Tyler the grown-ass man handed Ben a five-dollar bill.

"I don't need your money," she gritted out. Ben took her station at the apple cannon, and she handed Tyler the twenty. "Take it."

"Why are you handing me money? I'm supposed to be working for you."

"What? That makes no sense, and what are you even doing here?" she demanded.

He handed her the piece of paper that he'd been holding. "Here's the quote on that house."

"That…house…" she murmured, looking at the official quote from Right Time Custom Lights. "Your dad is helping me?"

"If that's what you want to call it, sure."

"I don't understand," she said, lifting the quote in the air. "You aren't supposed to be here."

Tyler pushed his hat off his head, replaced it, and looked around at the line of people staring at them. "Do you want to talk somewhere more private?"

"No! Yes. I don't…I don't really care."

He arched his dark eyebrows, and his icy-blue eyes cooled. "Do you want help with the lights, or not?"

"From your dad. Or any one of your brothers other than you."

He scratched his throat, and then gripped her elbow and led her away from the crowd.

"Unhand me," she whisper-screamed, yanking away from him.

He threw his hands up in surrender. "Look, I'm not here to piss you off, woman."

"Don't call me woman."

"Fine. I'm not here to piss you off, girl ."

"Don't call me that either. In fact, don't call me anything. I'm not even here." She turned and stormed off, cursing Rachel for not giving her a better heads-up. She'd said Tyler wasn't coming back! And now he was definitely here, annoying her as always. Why was she still holding this twenty-dollar bill? She turned and threw it, and it flew right into his chest, which he caught.

"Why are you following me?"

"Why are you throwing money at me? I haven't even danced for you yet."

"Oh, great. Just make it into a joke. You haven't changed a bit—"

"You look frazzled—"

"Who even says frazzled?" she asked, rounding on him. "And why are you still following me!"

"Because you haven't given me an answer on the quote." He threw it at her chest, and she caught it just like he'd caught her twenty. Ooooh, that pissed her off. She ripped it in half. "I would rather piss on an electric fence than work with you!"

"Beer?" Rachel asked, approaching with two full drinks clutched in her fists.

"I'm working!" both Demi and Tyler blurted out simultaneously.

"Okay," Rachel said, doing an about-face and walking the other direction.

"What are you so angry about?" he demanded, and ooooh, as he said that, he did something unforgivable. Unforgivable! That dumb boy took his hat off, and put it on backwards. Backwards!

She could see his effort at seduction from a mile away, and she was not falling for it. She yanked his hat off and threw it in the dirt. "Won't work on me, Tyler. Go do your backwards-hat move on some other hoochie who doesn't know what you're about."

He looked utterly shocked. "And what am I about, Demi? Since you know me so well from sixteen years ago."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and stood on her tiptoes to elongate her five-foot-four frame to better match his ridiculous six-foot-four inch—at least—frame. "You can't change a tiger's stripes. You are what you are."

"Is this about the kiss?" he growled low.

A quick glance at Rachel, and thankfully she was far enough away that she didn't hear him. "Shhhh! What kiss?"

"You know what kiss. You got so fuckin' weird about it—"

"Because it's not something either one of us wanted! Clearly. It ruined everything, and I don't want Rachel knowing. You swore you wouldn't tell her."

He glared at her. "Hey, Rachel?"

"No!" Demi grabbed for his arm, but he yanked it away and strode for Rachel.

"I have something to tell you," he called to his sister.

"Great," Rachel said sarcastically. "Because I definitely want to be part of whatever weirdness y'all are conjuring up."

In desperation, Demi lost her damn mind. She snaked her foot out and tripped him.

Tyler yelled a curse, and barely caught himself before he hit the ground.

"This is awesome," Rachel said from behind the rim of her drink.

"Rachel Durock," Tyler said loudly. "When I was eighteen, and your best friend was sixteen—"

"Stop!" Demi shrieked.

"Is this about the kiss?" Rachel asked.

Demi gasped and froze in horror. "W-what?"

Rachel slurped another sip. "The kiss at Reagan Frogg's party, right before Tyler left for college."

In shock, Demi forced her gaze to Tyler, and that oaf was smiling. "You told her?" she whispered.

"Oh, he told me years ago," Rachel said. "I don't really know if I like pumpkin-spice flavored beer. I keep trying it, but I don't think it's for me."

"You pinky-swore you wouldn't tell her," she gritted out, feeling utterly betrayed.

"And you've been hiding it from your best friend for all these years," Tyler said, closing the distance between them. "I guess we're both fuckin' liars." He pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and slapped it into her hand. "I knew you would rip up the first quote. When you settle down and realize how stupid this all is, and you want someone to handle the next two weeks of chaos with you and your type-A bossiness that no grown man would ever in his right mind want to put up with, you give me a call. I wrote my number on the back. I need the business, Demi. So do you. We don't have to talk or be friends. Tell me where to show up with the equipment, and let me do my thing. I'll let you do yours." He leaned closer, bright-blue eyes blazing, and she couldn't move away. She couldn't move! He leaned close to her face and murmured near her ear, "I told Rachel because it didn't mean anything to me. Seems you felt different. Keep it professional, yeah?"

Tyler eased away, eyes on hers, and she hated the stupid burning sensation in her eyes. She dropped her gaze and clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms to try and control the emotions that were washing through her.

Her skin was tingling just being this close to him, and he was right. His words rang true. That kiss had meant something to her, and left her confused for a long time, but he probably hadn't thought much about it ever again. She was reacting, and angry, acting childish while he had grown out of any feelings surrounding that stupid kiss.

Her cheeks were on fire as he walked away.

"Want me to slash his tires?" Rachel asked.

A thick, emotional laugh escaped her. "I'm sorry."

"I figured you would tell me someday, when you were ready."

"Honestly, I was going to take it to my grave. I'm a horrible friend."

"Me too." Rachel shrugged. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"Are you mad at me?" Demi asked.

"Oh, no. I'm going to go light his ass up for talking to you like that. Call you later."

"Okay," she said in a small voice as she watched her friend scamper after Tyler.

Feeling low, she unfolded the new quote and scanned his scribbled phone number on the back. The quote was very fair, but why couldn't it have been any of the other Durock brothers? Or his dad?

Out of all the Durocks, why did it have to be Tyler bidding to work with her?