The Patriot A Small Town Romance - Jennifer Millikin Page 0,24

at Wes. “Care to join me? I’m sure nail salons aren’t really your thing.”

Wes opens his mouth to respond but I answer first. “Great idea, Jericho. I won’t be long.”

I don’t intend to glance at Wes, but my eyes are drawn to him. His lips are pulled into a thin line, his posture stiff.

I turn away and open the door of the nail salon, a little bell ringing above my head.

The place is half-full, and a blonde woman looks up from where she sits with another woman’s hand in hers. She pauses her filing and asks, “What can I do for you, honey?”

“I’m looking for Stacia Guthrie?”

“That would be me,” the woman says, not exactly cheerfully but not rudely either. More like she’s curious and a tad reluctant. I don’t blame her.

I walk closer to her workstation. The woman having her nails done gives me a look that lets me know I’m interrupting her.

“Pardon my interruption,” I apologize, smiling at her glare. “That’s a lovely shade of purple.”

“Thank you,” the woman says, mellowing.

“Did you need something?” Stacia asks, resuming her filing.

“I met your dad last night at the Bar N, and—”

Stacia blows out a hard breath and it moves the long side sweep of bangs that touch her chin. “What did he do now?”

I laugh. “I can see why you’d ask that. He’s a bit of a firecracker.” I pull out the business card I tucked in my back pocket when I got dressed this morning. “I’m Dakota Wright. I work for a development company looking to buy some property on the edge of town.”

A guarded look creeps into her eyes, but I’m expecting it. In some places, people get excited at the idea of development, even call it progress. In other places, development represents change, and that’s a bad thing.

“I’ve been put in charge of coming up with how the land can be used. And I’m not interested in coming into Sierra Grande and acting like I know what should be built based on what it looks like you all are missing.” Waylon’s Starbucks comment comes to mind. “I’d like to hear from people who live here about what they’d like to see added to their town. Hopefully, my interests and the town’s interests align.”

I don’t want to over-promise and under-deliver, so I add that last part for insurance. I can’t agree to build a one-room schoolhouse that teaches underwater basket weaving, even if it’s voted on unanimously by the entire town of Sierra Grande.

Stacia glances at the woman whose nails she’s doing. They have a short conversation with their eyes. When she looks back to me, her gaze is a little less guarded. “This is Ashley,” she motions toward the woman with her head. “She’s hosting a book club tonight. It would probably be a good place for you to come and get some ideas.”

My hands clap together in my enthusiasm. Maybe it’s not very professional, but I’m genuinely excited to add something beneficial to this town. “Yes, perfect. Thank you.”

I take out my phone and type in Ashley’s address, then tell them both that I’ll be there at seven.

With a wave at Stacia, I go back through the door and over to the coffee shop to find Jericho and Wes. Maybe Jericho has entranced him already with her spiked heels and tight skirt. Honestly, it might be better for me if she has. I can’t afford to let down my guard with him. I need to have a professional relationship with Wes, not a personal one.

The sight that greets me in the coffee shop causes a tickle of laughter in my throat, but I cover it up with a cough. Jericho sits with her legs crossed at the ankles, elbows bent and perched on the table, and she’s leaning forward. A hundred bucks says her stance is making her blouse fall open just enough, and it’s by design. Wes leans back against his chair, one booted foot crossed over his other leg in a figure four. There’s a cup of coffee in front of him, probably black because I can’t imagine him ordering something with milk or syrup.

I walk toward them, doing my damnedest to ignore the flutter of relief in my stomach. Jericho and Wes could excuse themselves for some alone time in the bathroom, for all I care.

Right?

Yes, totally. I wouldn’t care at all.

“Hi,” I chirp, dragging over a chair from the empty table beside theirs.

Jericho straightens her body and her shirt. “How did that