"Seriously, I should be getting that for you, you know," I say, taking a sip. "I don't know how you're running around after little Stan and taking care of a new baby and keeping up with the bed and breakfast. And making iced tea."
June laughs. "Well, Cade has been immensely helpful," she says. "He's my saving grace, really. He's cutting back on hours at the bike shop, and has taken up more around the house and at the B&B. He's inside right now, doing daddy duty with Callie so I can enjoy a little girl time."
I watch as Olivia takes a plastic car and runs it over the sandcastle Stan is building in the sand box, and he lets out an ear-piercing scream. "And peaceful kid time," I say. "Olivia, that is not nice. Tell him sorry."
June laughs as Olivia wraps her arms around Stan, which immediately appeases the easy-going kid. "I think this is as relaxing as it's going to get for a while," she says. "The bed and breakfast has been busier lately, especially since River moved to West Bend, and Cade has had more demand for custom paint jobs the past month or so."
"That's great, right?" I ask. River Andrews is a movie star, a big one, and she stayed at June's bed and breakfast when she first came out to West Bend. Then she fell in love with a guy from the town and moved here. Supposedly, a studio is making a movie out of it. It's like a fairytale romance. June's bed and breakfast has gotten a big boost in tourist traffic because of River.
June sips from her glass. "When it rains, it pours, right?" she says. "Anyway, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Being a surgeon was good training for parenthood – at least for the sleep deprivation part of things, anyway."
"I'm really not sure I can picture you as a Navy surgeon," I say, looking at the June I know here, the one who's so laid-back, calm, and casual.
"Says the woman with an MBA from Wharton who ran a multi-million dollar bourbon company," June says, laughing.
"Uh-huh." I sip my iced tea again. "That was my family's company, not mine. And I ran a department, not the company. It's not nearly the same."
June holds up her glass. "Well, cheers to new beginnings and leaving behind prior lives. And to leaving dirtbag exes."
"I'll definitely toast to that."
"Stan, do not pour that on Olivia's head or you're getting out of the sandbox," June says, her tone warning. Olivia bats a cup out of his hand and laughs as it falls into the sand with a thunk. "Speaking of new beginnings…"
"Yes?" I ask innocently, even though I already know the question June is about to ask. It's been almost two weeks since our last play date with the kids, since I cancelled last week. I know she's heard through the grapevine by now – one of the side benefits of running a bed and breakfast is having a direct line to all of the town gossip – that Luke is working at the orchard.
Besides, West Bend isn't exactly the kind of place where you can keep a secret, not with Mary Lou at the bakery or Alice at the salon, two of the biggest busybodies in the world. They always have their fingers on the pulse of the town, and are only too happy to go spreading information. And Luke Saint isn't the kind of guy whose arrival goes unnoticed in a small town like West Bend.
Or anywhere really, I'd imagine.
"I heard you have some help at the orchard," June says. Her comment sounds innocent but it's laden with all of the implication of one friend's interest in another's dating life. Or lack of a dating life, to be more accurate.
"Yep." I sip my iced tea, almost hoping one of the kids will pour a cup of sand over the other one's head, just for the distraction, but they're playing too contentedly to be bothered with my internal angst about the sexy younger man working for me.
"Oh, cut the coy crap, Autumn Mayburn," June says. "I've known you for two years now, since you turned up in West Bend, and I think I have a pretty good idea now of what makes you blush. And I've never seen you blush, not one single time, over a guy in this town. Not even when I tried to set you up with Billy Horton. And here you are, blushing when I mention the new guy working for you."
"Billy Horton was not as hot as Luke Saint," I blurt out, and immediately slap my hand over my mouth.
Damn it. Where the hell did that come from?
June squeals and claps her hands together, and the kids echo her squeal, as if they're in on the secret, then turn back to babbling to each other in the sandbox. "I knew it," she says. "As soon as I heard he was there, I knew it."
"There's nothing to know. Nothing. Absolutely nothing," I protest.
"Nothing," June says, laughing. "That's why you've said the same word three times."
"What do you know about him?"
"Oh, now you're curious?" June asks. "I thought there was nothing going on."
"I'm asking for purely professional reasons. He's my employee."
"Uh-huh," she says. "I don't know him."
"But you know everyone in this town," I say, trying to sound disinterested and failing miserably.