15. Marnie

Dusty turns to me, a tendon popping in his jaw. “You’ll have to excuse my sister. She lives in a barn.”

Sienna just laughs, sailing between the two of us.

I can’t decide if I like the girl or want to throttle her.

She makes a beeline for the coffeepot, pulling a mug down. “Coffee?”

She asks, pinning me with her blue eyes.

Still feeling off balance, I shrug. “Sure.”

Sienna pours me a mug, glancing at her brother. “I know how much you love town gossip.”

“I live for it.”

Dusty responds, with a tone that suggests he could give a shit.

Sienna is undeterred. “Here’s a juicy one for you. You know Edna Korra?”

“The baker?”

“The very same.”

Sienna nods, grinning toothily as she hands me my coffee. “Word is, she ran away with the drummer of a band.”

Dusty does a double take. His voice is flat. “A drummer.”

Sienna giggles. “Of a polka band. I guess they’re touring Canada this summer.”

“Well, that is…”

Dusty pauses. “Good for Edna, I guess.”

“Yeah, man.”

Sienna laughs. “Edna got her groove back.”

Dusty looks at me over the rim of his mug. “And I bet you thought small towns were boring.”

“Clearly, they’re not.”

I reply, sipping coffee.

“Clearly.”

Sienna agrees, laughing. She glances at the clock, wincing. “Ah, crap. I’m late for work.”

“Again?”

Dusty shakes his head. Sienna whisks away, leaving the two of us alone.

Dusty sets his mug aside. “Is that what you were after this morning? News about Edna Korra?”

I fiddle with my coffee mug. “Not quite. I was hoping we could talk about the estate.”

“The estate.”

Dusty repeats. He forms the word like it tastes funny. Pushing away from the counter, he tilts his head. “Have you seen it?”

“The fields?”

“Yeah.”

I shake my head. “Uncle Gus used to take me around when I was younger, but that was years ago.”

“Well, first things first, maybe you want to take a look at what you’re trying to sell.”

I detect the faintest note of accusation in that statement, but he has a point. I should see it with my own eyes. “Are you offering to give me a tour?”

He grins, looking down. When he glances back at me, the softness in those gray eyes is like a sucker punch. “For you? I’ll clear my busy schedule.”

Acting like my heart isn’t racing ahead, I do my best to adopt a casual stride as he leads me back outside. Ed barks a happy greeting as we walk towards Dusty’s truck. I climb in the passenger side and before I can close the door, Ed heaves himself up beside me. He sits with half of his ass on my lap. Looking over at me with those strange green eyes, I get the feeling he’s either embarrassed for me or suffering in some way.

Dusty settles behind the wheel, a sly grin curving his lips. “That’s his seat.”

“Ed has his own seat?”

Dusty nods. “That’s where he usually sits. I bet if you asked nicely, he might let you borrow it. Be warned, Ed’s a rather gassy beast.”

I glance down at the fabric upholstery, wondering how much air one seat can trap. I’m scooting over before I even finish the thought. Ed heaves a sigh, and I swear to God, he smiles at me.

Dusty’s smiling, too, though Ed’s doing a better job of hiding it.

I glance upwards for strength. “Why do I get the feeling all the boys in this truck are laughing at me?”

“I’m not laughing.”

Dusty throws his arm over my shoulder as he backs out. “This is just my face.”

“Mm-hmm.”

I murmur skeptically. It’s hard to think of a clever reply when I’ve got a sexy Viking sitting hip to hip with me. He’s got his legs akimbo, our thighs touch from knee to hip. I could scoot over if I was truly offended by the proximity, but I kind of like the soft buzzy feeling stoking in my belly.

It’s just an innocent touch.

Nothing wrong with that.

I settle in and Dusty starts down the road. I’m a baker, so I’m usually up before the sun. That also means I usually miss the sunrise.

Out here, where there are no buildings to break the landscape, the sunrise is stunning. The colors seem almost electric. Clouds gather on the horizon in splashes of vivid pink, orange, and purple.

Ed plops his head on my thigh, and I find myself scratching his ear.

Dusty turns down a dirt road. “That dog growing on you yet?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Why don’t you like dogs?”

“I like dogs. Just usually not the big ones.”

He glances at me. “Why?”

I rest my hand on Ed’s head, reassured by the fact that he’s holding still. “My friend and I got attacked by one when we were kids.”

“A lab?”

“A German Shepard.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, easing my fingers through Ed’s soft fur. “She lost her finger.”

“And the dog?”

“They put him down.”

I run my hand over Ed’s shoulder, scratching at his belly. “Funny thing was, that dog was pretty nice most of the time. He just got spooked, and we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I shrug. “I guess I just learned to give big dogs a wide berth.”

He nods. “That’s how I got this.”

He points at a fishhook shaped scar by his brow.

“A German Shepard did that?”

He grins at me. “Cocker Spaniel.”

A laugh slips off my lips. I cover my mouth.

He bites back a smile. “Are you laughing at my misfortune?”

“Absolutely not.”

I grin. “Everybody knows cocker spaniels are the most bad ass dogs on the street.”