My cheeks heated right along with the rest of me when I remembered the way Dane had fucked me in the shower after the Duck Farm Incident.
At least he’d waited until I was clean.
“I almost feel sorry for Walter,” I said, patting dirt around my third marigold.
“He was going to kill you,” Dane pointed out.
“I know, but none of it would have happened if he hadn’t been afraid of losing the farm.” And now he probably would, seeing as how the judge had denied him bail and he would be in jail for the foreseeable future.
“Yeah,” Noah said, with a sigh. “What he did was wrong, but I kind of get it.”
I wondered if he was thinking about his family farm and the big corporation who’d bought it after his mom died.
Everything was changing, all the time. Not just Blackwell Hollow but me too.
I heard footsteps on the path behind me and turned to find Beck making his way toward the gazebo. His faded jeans hung just low enough on his hips to make me remember what he looked like naked, and his sculpted biceps flexed as he ran a hand casually through his brown hair.
Being around Beck, Noah, and Dane was like sitting in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet 24/7, except in this case I never got enough and felt absolutely zero desire to push away from the table.
“Looking good,” Beck said, surveying our work on the gazebo. “It’s almost like there wasn’t a dead guy here three weeks ago.”
“That’s not helping,” I said.
He flashed me a grin. “Sorry. You ready?”
I looked over at Noah. “Can I clock out?”
Noah winked. “I’ll take your unworked hours out in trade later.”
My pussy got wet in anticipation.
Beck held out a hand and helped me to my feet. “Back in a couple hours.”
I’d promised to help him pack a massive cupcake order for a Chamber of Commerce meet and greet.
“Want to do Mexican tonight?” Noah asked. “I could really go for a burrito.”
“Sure,” Beck said. “I’ll bring home cupcakes for dessert.”
Dane glanced possessively at me from the ladder. “I’ve got all the dessert I need.”
“You can never have too many desserts.” Beck kissed me on the lips. “Isn’t that right, cupcake?”
Three weeks ago I might have disagreed. Now I thought he might be right.
“See you losers later.” Beck took my hand and we made our way through the gardens, past the hedge maze and shed, and out onto the driveway in front of the house.
“Oh yeah,” Beck said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans with his free hand. “Thought you might want this.”
He handed me a piece of paper.
“What is it?”
“It’s a flyer from Paula Price.”
“Who’s Paula Price?” I unfolded the flyer.
“The best realtor in town,” Beck said.