Series: Kristen Proby Crossover Collection
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
“I usually get quite a bit,” she says with a nod. “I prefer to buy it here rather than the grocery store. It’s fresher, and I’m supporting local businesses.”
“And you’ve never had farm-fresh eggs?”
She sighs in exasperation and drops her glasses back onto her nose. “Are you going to judge me or help me shop?”
“Maybe both,” I say and shrug, following her down the long line of vendors selling their wares.
“Do you mind if I cook some dinners this week?” she asks as she feels the weight of a cantaloupe, smells it, and then places it into her basket. I take it from her.
“If you start cooking for me, I might not ever let you move out.”
She smiles up at me, and I want to kiss her right there in front of the whole town. Her teeth are bright against her tanned skin, and she looks happy and carefree.
I feel the same when I’m with her.
“So, that’s a yes, then,” she says and glances over some lettuce, but it must not meet her standards because she moves on without buying any.
“Hey, Noah.”
I glance up, surprised to see Ty Sullivan. He has a baby on his hip and another in an infant carrier against his stomach.
He looks damn happy.
“Hey, man,” I say and shake his hand. “I didn’t know you were a farmer’s market man.”
“We live over the bridge,” he says, gesturing to the other side of the park. “So, we usually bring the kids and walk over. You must be Fallon?”
She smiles and offers her hand. “Okay, I don’t know how you know that, but you’re right.”
“My wife, Lauren, takes your classes, and she’s pointed you out to me before.”
“Oh, wonderful,” Fallon says, looking around. “Is Lauren here?”
“She and Jillian King are off checking out a new artist.”
“Well, I’ll say hi if I run into her,” Fallon says and turns her attention to the little girl shyly holding onto Ty’s neck. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?”
“She’s tired,” Ty says when the baby hides her face. “It was good to see you, Noah. See you out at the Lazy K this weekend? I’ve been told there’s a BBQ happening.”
“We’ll see you there,” I confirm, and we say our goodbyes.
“You all know each other,” Fallon says as we wander through the maze of people. “It’s so interesting.”
“Small town,” I reply with a smile. “So, Josh and Zack are my cousins. They’re about five years older than me, and Ty has been their best friend since they were small kids.”
“Gotcha,” she says and nods but then laughs. “I think. Everyone should wear nametags.”
“You’ll catch on,” I assure her. “You already know the girls.”
“True,” she says.
We end up filling the basket full of fruits and vegetables and even some meats from the butcher. A Lady Antebellum song plays as we wander through the arts and crafts, saying hello to people we know, and politely nodding to those we don’t—which isn’t many.
Finally, with our arms full, we reach the sidewalk where the Jeep is parked.
“I usually just put this in the backseat and then walk down for some dinner,” Fallon says, but I motion for her to stay on the sidewalk.
“I’ve got it. Wait here.”
She nods, and I walk the block or so to the Jeep and set her finds in the backseat, then move things around so it’s all in the shade.
It won’t get stolen, but we also don’t want it to bake in the sun.
When I walk back toward Fallon, I see she’s chatting with a man I don’t recognize. Her hands are in her back pockets, pushing her breasts forward, and she’s smiling sweetly at him.
I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” I say in greeting, my voice even. “I’m Noah King.”
“Dude,” he says with a chuckle. “It’s Sam. Waters.”
“How did I not recognize you?” I ask, shaking my head and grasping his hand. Sam grew up here, the same as the rest of us. He was older than Gray and me, but I’ve known him my whole life. “You’re bigger.”
“Rude,” Fallon says with a smirk.
“As in muscles, smartass,” I reply and tug on her ponytail.
“I’ve been working out,” Sam says with a shrug. “And I’ve been taking some yoga classes from Fallon.”
“So, that’s how you know each other.”
“He’s a good student,” Fallon says and pats Sam’s arm. My hackles rise again. Sam looks at her like she hung the fucking moon.
“Are you still a paramedic?” I ask.
Because you might need to call a friend if you keep looking at her like that.
“Yeah, and I’m on the fire department, too,” he says. “It was time to up my game with my fitness if I’m going to be rescuing people from burning buildings and all that.”
“Congratulations,” I reply. “That’s great. How’s Evan?”
“Who’s Evan?” Fallon asks.