Page 92 of Hotshot

“My husband is a smart man. So…ça vas? Why are you hiding from us? You haven’t been to zee diner in a week. Did you eat something bad? If so, it was not in my kitchen. Check the dates on your condiments, eh?”

“I’m fine, but thanks for?—”

“No, you’re too skinny.” JC barreled to the front of the line and greeted Ivan. “We will have three lattes and three croissants,s’il te plaît.No, make it four. Two for the cowboy without the hat. He needs food.”

“You got it,” Ivan enthused. “You’re going to freak out. I’ve been practicing new art and I’ve got something fun for you.”

“That is frightening, but…merci.”

I joined Riley and JC at the side counter, clutching a bag of croissants and making small talk about the weather, the new menu at the diner, the movie star sighting in Pinecrest, and the raccoon who upended Mr. Jenkins’s trash and was seen gnawing on a VHS jazzercise video.

“Jazzercise? That’s awesome,” I commented with a half laugh.

“The best part was that a fourteen-year-old camper found the tape and had no idea what it was,” Riley reported. “Listening to Vinnie and Ronnie trying to explain old technology to a bunch of teenagers was freaking hysterical. We all appreciated the moment of levity. The big scrimmage is tonight and tensions are high. Well…not really, but we pump it up all week, so this is serious stuff.”

“Former pros and current pros compete,” JC added. “It will be a bloodbath.”

“Hey!” Riley huffed.

“In a good way.”

“Ta-da! A cactus!” Ivan set our lattes on the counter with a flourish. “What do you think?”

JC rubbed his beard, lifting one eyebrow. “It’s a kinky cactus. Like a penis with thorns.”

Ivan threw his hands in the air in mock surrender. “You’re the worst. Have a good day, boys.”

I chuckled as I followed them outside, feeling lighter than I had all week. “Thanks again for the latte and the croissants. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. See you at the scrimmage tonight,” Riley said, hooking his arm in JC’s.

I was definitely not going to the scrimmage, but I lifted the to-go cup as I turned—and immediately ran into the man I’d been thinking about nonstop for days.

“Sorry about that. I—Denny.”

And this, right here, was what I’d hoped to avoid. My pulse raced and my hands went clammy as I drank in the sight of him like a man dying of thirst.

He looked sexy as always in his black joggers, snug tee, and a Condors ball cap, his longish hair spilling out the sides. The desire to touch him was so strong—a brush of fingers or elbows…something, anything.

“Hey.” He cleared his throat and inclined his head toward the bakery. “I just dropped Grams off.”

“Coffee.” I pointed at my cup awkwardly.

“My next stop.”

“Good call.” I stepped around him. “I should?—”

“Come to the scrimmage,” he blurted. “I heard Riley and he’s right…you should come.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea. Everyone will be there and…you’re kind of a hero in town.”

“They’re just impressed that I know how to operate a forklift,” I snarked.

“I’m impressed too.” Denny’s lips curled on one side.

“Yeah, well…”