Page 22 of Apple of My Eye

Sage and Harper jumped and yelped with glee.

“Great news.” I pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor, and went to her side.

“That is huge,” Ash added, leaning forward, fully engaged.

Sage came out from around the counter like she couldn’t contain herself. “Daisy, that’s amazing!” They hugged.

“Told you it’d work,” I said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of my voice. I had a stake in this, whether or not she realized it. “You need help with the rest of the crates?”

“I’ve got it?—”

“I’ll grab ’em,” I cut in, moving for the door before she could argue about it.

The chill in the air hit me as soon as I stepped outside, sharp with a bite that hinted winter wasn’t too far off. Her rig sat parked near the front of the shop, road dust still clinging to the sides, the bed covered with a tarp that had seen better days.

I climbed into the back, spotting the two crates tucked to one side. Easy enough. I grabbed both, stacking them one atop the other, adjusting my grip until the weight settled evenly in my arms. My eyes caught something stiff and muddy and out of place, poking out from beneath the edge of the tarp. Not apples.

I hopped out and shifted the crates to one arm. Temptation took over; I lifted the corner of the tarp just enough to see yard signs. A stack of them, maybe a dozen or more, shoved together like she’d gathered them in a hurry. The dirt and grass still caked the metal stakes, clinging stubbornly as if someone had pulled them straight from the ground with little ceremony.

The signs read “Vote for Trevor Brewster for Sheriff.”

A snicker of amusement slipped out of me.

Well, hell. I shouldn’t have been surprised, given where Daisy stood on the election—pro Sheriff Patrick. But ripping these signs of his competition out like that? It took a certain nerve.

The more I learned about her, the clearer it became—she didn’t shy away from anything. Not hard work, not confrontation, not doing what needed to be done even when it wasn’t pretty.

The only thing she seemed to hold back on… was letting anyone get close enough to her to matter. Especially me.

“Got the crates, Knox?”

Her voice came from behind me, pulling me out of it. I dropped the tarp back into place before turning, the crates steady in my grip as I stepped toward her.

She stood just off to the side, arms crossed, chewing her cheek, watching me with a look that said she knew exactly what I’d just seen.

“Got ’em.” Then, tilting my head toward the signs, I teased, “Been doing a little light election tampering this morning?”

Her cheeks flushed almost immediately, color rising fast beneath her skin. “They suddenly showed up posted at ourdriveway overnight,” she said, her tone defensive but not denying it. “Figured I’d do a little cleanup.”

“Cleanup,” I repeated. “That's what we’re calling it now?”

She lifted her chin, stubborn as ever. “I don’t need to see his name every time I come and go. It’s my property.”

“Fair enough.” I shifted the crates slightly so I could get a better hold on them. “Planning to relocate them?”

“To the garbage bin in the alley behind Ivy’s shop,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.

A grin pulled at my mouth despite myself. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

She huffed out a laugh, the sound lighter than most of what she gave the world. “You’re already on it some days.”

I fell into step behind her, getting full view of her back side. “But you keep letting me hang around anyway.”

“You’re kinda cute to look at.” She sucked in her lips like she hadn’t meant for that to slip.

“Aha, so you have noticed me.” I could do this with her all day, but we both had to work.

Back inside the Copper Cup, we walked straight into a storm.