Page 14 of Hello Trouble

DELLA

I pulled my Dutch oven out of the stove, feeling heat radiating up from the pot and warming my face. A giddy flutter went through my chest, hoping the perfect sourdough loaf was waiting underneath the lid.

After setting the pot on top of the stove and then shutting the oven door, I carefully lifted the lid.

My jaw dropped open, and I squealed. “It looks like real bread!” I cried, even though no one was around to hear me.

It had taken me a full month to get my sourdough starter going, several failed loaves, and then twelve hours of working with this batch specifically.

And don’t get me wrong—it wasn’t the prettiest loaf in the world.

There was a rip down the center like I hadn’t scored the bread deep enough, it wasn’t quite as round as I’d like, and the designs I’d carefully cut into the raw surface had more or less disappeared in the oven. But it looked—and smelled—like bread.

I couldn’t wait to serve it to my parents with potato soup for supper tonight.

Gripping the corners of the brittle parchment paper, I lifted the loaf out of the pot so it could cool on the counter and then tended to my soup in the Crock Pot. I liked to sprinkle a layer of shredded cheese on top about half an hour before serving it for a nice melty effect.

Soon enough, Mom and Dad were at the door. Dad came in first with a stack of flattened boxes under his arm. Mom was behind him, carrying a box full of old newspapers.

“What’s this?” I asked, closing the door behind them.

Dad leaned his boxes up against a wall by the entrance. “Thought you might want to get started packing.” He took the newspapers from Mom and set them by the boxes.

Mom brushed invisible dust off her hands. “You know how awful it is to try and move at the last second? You have so much more stuff than you think you do. This way you can start packing up some of your trinkets and decorations.”

“You’re right,” I said slowly. The thought should have occurred to me sooner, but for some reason, the boxes sitting in the corner had a heavy feeling settling in my chest. It reminded me that I really was leaving Cottonwood Falls, the place I thought I would call home forever.

I tried to remind myself that all hope wasn’t lost—I had a date with Bennett on Friday. But I was leaving town in two months. It would have to be the world’s most whirlwind romance to change my plans.

“Thanks,” I finally said to my parents, putting on a happy smile. “Come check out my sourdough!”

They followed me to the counter, and Dad commented, “It smells incredible in here.”

Mom agreed, and they both fawned over my bread like it was my own baby. “Can’t wait to taste it,” Mom said, brushing thick blond and gray curls behind her ear.

I smiled and replied, “Why don’t we get started? You’re not supposed to cut it while it’s hot, but you know me. I’m impatient.”

Dad smirked, making crinkles form around his eyes. “You’re about as patient as a bulldozer.”

I rolled my eyes at him while Mom chuckled. And it hit me again how grateful I was to have them around. That even though I was nearing forty, they still loved and supported me no matter my flaws.

As we ate the soup, I tried to savor every bite, every moment. And I hoped that this date with Bennett would lead to something big—something that let me stay in Cottonwood Falls.

* * *

On Friday after work, I walked to my car in the parking lot on the back side of the building, got in, and pushed the button to turn it on.

The lights flashed on the dash, and the fan started blowing air, but the engine didn’t turn over.

My eyebrows drew together. That was strange.

I pushed the button again, but the same thing happened.

A glance at the dash showed the check engine light.

“Great,” I muttered, heart sinking. I was supposed to meet with a client before going out with Bennett, but now it looked like I needed a rescue instead.

I picked up my phone and dialed Hayes’s personal number, hoping I didn’t get the Hyde version of him today.

After a few rings, his voice came over the phone. “Yes, Moonshine?”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname. “Why do you call me that?” He’d been calling me Moonshine for years now, and I’d always chalked it up to one of his quirks.

“To remind myself I should stay away,” he replied earnestly, making my stomach flip. “That I’d regret having too much of you come the morning.”

He thought he should stay away from me all this time? Why?

Did I really want to know the answer right before I was supposed to go out with another man? I shouldn’t be thinking of Hayes when I was with Bennett. Not his tattoos. Not his muscled arms. Not the ring curling around his lip. Definitely not the illogical way he made my heart beat faster.

“Hello?” he said.

I cleared my throat, trying to focus again. “Remember how you offered me a rescue?” I hedged, making my voice sweet.

“Jog my memory.”

Looked like I’d need to put this in terms he’d understand. “When your death trap motorcycle gave me a lady boner?”

“Ah, I remember now,” he said. I could hear the smirk in his tone.

“Good,” I said, shifting my cell to my other ear. “Well, my car won’t start, and I need to be in Roderdale at seven at the latest. I already had to cancel one client meeting. Can you help?”

“I was just about to head home, but... I am a man of my word.”

I shook my head at his bravado. “My hero.”

“Where are you? I’ll come get you in the tow truck.”

“Still at the office. Thank you so much.”

“And why don’t you get us a ‘snackie’?” he teased. “Since I’m missing dinner for this.”

“It’s the least I can do,” I said sincerely. I asked him what he liked from the diner and then crossed the street to Woody’s, hoping Hayes could find a solution to my car quickly. With any luck, the issue would be something simple, like needing a new battery, and not too terribly expensive.

I had his food in hand, along with a side of mozzarella sticks for me, and was paying the bill when I saw the tow truck coming down Main Street. Most women would have been impressed by an Aston Martin, but man, did my heart flutter at the sight of that rusty old truck.

Once I finished paying, I walked across the street and around the building where I worked to see Hayes leaning under the hood of my car. He had on a pair of faded jeans that hugged his lean frame, and his shirt hung loose, giving me a view of his muscled, tatted sides.

Tattoos had never been my thing—something about them usually screamed bad decision . But on Hayes? My eyes traced each one, wondering what they meant, if they had any meaning at all.

Something about Hayes carried a mystery I was dying to discover. Why did he have such a cynical view of relationships?

I tried to rack my mind to remember if a high school girlfriend had broken his heart but came up short.

As far as I knew, Hayes had always been this way.

I only realized I’d been staring, lost in thought, when he stood up from under the hood and looked my way.

There was a frown on his face that shed all my embarrassment. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“It’s going to take a little more work than I hoped.”

“Do you think it could be done by six thirty?” I asked.

“I’ll try my best,” he said grimly. “Climb in the truck.”