You have lost your mind. Your mind is lost. What were you expecting? Honestly, what did you think was going to happen? He doesn’t care two sticks about you.
I was a good five feet from the shop, lost to my litany of regret, when I felt fingers close over my arm and spin me around.
Startled, my hands flew to my chest and I gasped. It was Beau. He released me immediately.
“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No.” I exhaled a shaky laugh and shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I just didn’t see you.”
He gave me an apologetic grin. “Did Shelly say something? To make you leave?”
“What? No! Not at all. She’s great.”
His grin wavered, disbelief clouding his eyes. “Really?”
I didn’t get a chance to respond because Cletus emerged from the shop, clutching the plate I’d brought to his chest. I took an automatic step backward, prepared to finish the march to my car and make my hasty escape.
“Just stop right there,” he called, his forehead stitched with irritation.
Drawing even with Beau, he scrutinized me. Then he scrutinized Beau. Then he scrutinized me again.
“Beau,” he passed the plate to Beau but kept his eyes trained on me, “take these to the front and close up. We’ll join you in a moment.”
Beau’s gaze moved over Cletus’s stern profile, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as his attention bounced between us. Eventually, he said, “Sure thing,” while turning and strolling to the front office of the shop.
Once Beau was gone, Cletus placed his hands on his hips. “Something is wrong with you.”
I straightened my spine, flinching at his statement. “I beg your pardon, but that was incredibly rude.”
He blinked at me as though he were confused, much of the irritation waning from his features. As though finally realizing what he’d said—or at least how it sounded—a regretful noise escaped his throat and he scrunched his face like he was frustrated with himself.
“No. You mistake my meaning. I’m . . . concerned. You appear to be upset. What’s wrong?” His voice gentled and his eyes searched mine. “What’s happened? And what can I do to help?”
I crossed my arms because my stupid heart was fluttering again. He caught me off guard. I was not at all prepared for Cletus Winston’s concern.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to bring y’all muffins. Can’t I bring y’all muffins?”
He was scrutinizing me again. “No. Something’s off. Is it Jackson James? Do I need to maim him? Because I will. I could give him leprosy, you know. Armadillos are carriers.”
My mouth fell open and a bubble of laughter emerged unchecked. “Cletus Winston, you will do no such thing.”
“Sheriff’s deputy or not. Just say the word. It might improve him, actually.”
“You are terrible.” I laughed, even though he was terrible, and I felt terrible laughing at such a terrible joke.
At least, I hope it’s a joke.
Before I could give the matter too much thought, Cletus nodded, reached for my hand, and tugged me toward the front office. “That’s better. I much prefer your real smiles. Those fake ones don’t fit your face. By the way, I like your shoes.”
I stumbled, having trouble keeping up with him, both his long stride and the rapid subject changes. He opened the door and guided me inside, keeping our hands linked as he pulled the door shut behind us and turned the bolt.
“Shelly said she’d close up the garage,” he called to Beau, who was just setting three coffee mugs on the counter. “She doesn’t want any of these mystery muffins and I didn’t try to talk her out of her poor decision.”
“More for us,” Beau agreed with a grin.
“Exactly.”
I shook my head at the two brothers. “Y’all need to learn how to share.”
Cletus turned his gaze on me, his eyes darting from my chin to my forehead before moving between mine. “Sharing is overrated.”
“I agree,” Beau approved cheerfully. “Who wants coffee?”
Cletus brought us even with the front of the counter, whereas Beau was standing on the other side. He pulled the plate of muffins to the center of the tabletop. “Is it decaf? I don’t want to be up all night.”
“It is,” Beau confirmed, already filling his cup.
“Jenn?” Cletus prompted, “Do you want any?”
“Yes, please.”
“How do you take your coffee?” Beau set out a bowl of sugar.
“Black is fine.”
Beau and Cletus exchanged a glance, then they both turned identical questioning looks on me.
“You don’t take anything in your coffee?” Cletus asked.
“No. I’m surrounded by sweets all day. I like my coffee black.”