Hawk ambles over, closing the distance between us quickly with his long legs. I suppress the urge to flee, and try desperately to look nonchalant.

“Hello,” he says simply. He nods at Ms. Hanson. “RuthEllen,” he says.

“Hello, Hawk,” she replies. “Do you know Samantha Jennings?” she asks.

“I do.”

“Please thank the club for their generosity again this year, Hawk,” Ms. Hanson nods, gesturing toward the grill. Turning to me, she continues. “I really ought to get back to the booth, dear. So nice to have met you. Do come into the library sometime. We have quite a good selection of books on photography.”

“I will,” I promise her. I watch as she walks away, and then reluctantly turn my eyes back to Hawk.

“You look good,” he says gruffly, nodding at my dress.

“Thank you,” I say, as heat flushes my cheeks. I suddenly feel very conspicuous and exposed. Hawk’s eyes grow dark as they slide over my figure. It feels almost like he’s touching me without even lifting a finger. I resist the urge to squirm. I’ve never been so instantly affected by a man just looking at me.

“So, ah, the club is grilling the meat for the festival?” I manage to say, sure that I sound like a complete idiot. “That’s not exactly what I would have expected you guys to be doing on a Saturday afternoon.”

He shrugs, but his eyes are still lingering on the curve of my breasts. “It’s good PR. Keeps the town from wanting to run us out.”

As I look at his face, I notice that his handsome features seem tense. Preoccupied. He’s not as cocky and flirtatious with me as he usually is. He’s less infuriating this way, but it’s strangely… disappointing.

I find myself wanting to ask him what’s wrong.

But I don’t. Because I don’t think he’d tell me anyway.

When I saw him from across the street, the first thing I wanted to do was run. Or maybe throw something at him, and ask him why he just disappeared without a trace from the carriage house when I went to talk to Gram. I don’t know what I expected from my next encounter with Hawk, but it wasn’t this. He’s so serious, so completely unlike I’ve ever seen him. It’s much easier to know how to act around him when he’s being a jerk, I realize. I want him to say something completely inappropriate, so I can hide behind my righteous anger. But I can tell that’s not going to happen.

So, because I don’t know how to act when he’s not being a cocky ass, for some reason I start acting flirtatious.

“Who’s doing the grilling?” I say in a teasing way that sounds forced and artificial, even to me. “I’m imagining one of you guys in an apron and a chef’s hat.”

But Hawk barely seems to hear me. “How’s the leak in your grandma’s kitchen?” he asks. The tone of his voice makes it clear he’s just phoning this conversation in. My heart sinks a little bit. I know I’m not the most interesting person in the world, but it seems pretty clear I’m boring him. I have no idea why he bothered to come over and talk to me in the first place.

“Um, fine. Thanks again,” I stammer, and hope I’m not turning beet red as my thoughts turn to what happened after he fixed the sink.

“That’s good,” Hawk says absently, running a hand through his dark blond hair.

Just then, one of the other men calls to him. “Hawk!” He turns his head.

“I need to go help them finish setting up,” he explains.

“Okay,” I say softly. Part of me is relieved that this disaster of a conversation is over. But a bigger part of me is battling a wave of disappointment that this is apparently how it ends.

“Okay then,” he nods, his expression still tense and preoccupied. He turns to go, but after a beat, he looks back at me. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he mutters.

I don’t know what to say to that. Or how to ignore the little thrill of excitement that goes up my spine at his words.

“Okay,” I say in a small voice, but he’s already swiveled back around and started walking back toward the grill.

I shiver, and close my eyes for a long second. Being around Hawk is like being pulled in by a tractor beam. He’s all the way across the street and swallowed up in the crowd of other club members before my head starts to clear.

“Sam!” a familiar voice cries off to my right. I turn to see Jenna waving at me from about twenty feet away. She’s pushing a stroller, with Mariana sitting in it and Noah skipping along next to her.

“Hey!” I smile and wave back. When she gets close, I squat down to the stroller. “Hi, Mariana!” The little sweetheart gives me a tiny wave and a wide, goofy grin. “Hi, Noah,” I say to her older brother.

“Hi,” he says back. “You’re the photographer lady, right?”

“That’s right,” I nod. “Good memory. Are you enjoying the festival?”

“Yeah.” Noah looks up at his mom. “We’re going to do face painting next!”

“That sounds awesome,” I enthuse. I put my hands on my knees and push myself back up to standing. “It’s good to see you,” I say to Jenna. “How’ve you been?”

“Great, thanks!” she says, and then glances toward where the club has set up shop. “Were you just talking to Hawk?” she asks me curiously.

“Um, yeah,” I admit. I feel sheepish that she saw us together. But Jenna knows he came to fix Gram’s sink, so maybe she’ll just chalk it up to politeness. “He seems a little… off,” I say. “I mean, kind of different than normal. Not that I know him well enough to know what’s normal for him,” I continue hastily. “Just… I don’t know. Tense.”

Jenna nods. “Cas is acting strange, too. I don’t know what it is.” She casts a worried look toward the group of men. “Funny how they’re doing the festival like there’s nothing wrong. But I get the feeling something is definitely wrong.”

“You mean with the MC?”

“Yeah.” Jenna reaches down absently and draws Noah to her.

I have no idea what kind of stuff the MC does, but suddenly the thought jumps into my head that Hawk could be in some kind of danger. I feel a little sick at the thought.

“How much does Cas tell you? About the MC?” I find myself asking.

Jenna blows out a breath. “He tells me what he thinks I need to know. Most of the time, the guys try to keep the MC’s business away from the women.” She frowns. “Cas rarely brings that stuff home with him, but this time he has. I just hope everything’s okay. But of course, if I ask him, he’ll just tell me everything’s fine.”

Now I’m starting to worry. Hawk would never tell me anything about what was happening with the club, though, so it’s stupid for me to even let myself think about it. Whatever is going on, it’s not something I’m likely to ever know anything about.

“Hey,” Jenna says then. “Why don’t I introduce you to some of the women? You’ll recognize some of them from the wedding, I’m sure.”

Before I can say anything, Jenna’s turned the stroller in the direction of the MC, where for the first time I notice a group of women gathered off to the side of where the men are setting up the grill. They’ve commandeered some picnic tables and are setting up blankets, playpens, and lawn chairs, clearly in anticipation of a long afternoon. Jenna introduces me to a bunch of women I definitely recognize from the farm. There’s Rock’s wife Trudy, a forty-something woman with pale blond hair and lots of eye makeup. There’s Rena, who is trying to corral two rowdy boys and says she’s with a man named Skid. There’s a raven-haired beauty named Carmen who says she’s the wife of Geno, whose farm was where Cas and Jenna got married. Then there’s the bartender I remember from the wedding, whose name is Jewel, and a few other women who are hanging around and helping with set-up.

As I’m chatting with the women, I happen to glance over and see that Hawk’s eyes are on me, his expression impossible to read. I draw in a quick breath and quickly glance away.

“Mom,” little Noah pipes up eventually. “You said we were going to do face painting!”

“You’re right, bug,” Jenna says. “Let’s go over and get in line. It looks like there are a few people waiting already.” She looks at me. “You up for waiting with me for a few minutes? Or do you want to be on your way?”

“No, I can come with you.” I follow her as she maneuvers the stroller over to the face painting booth. As we go, Noah spontaneously take my hand and starts telling me about how he wants to get a tiger on his face. I tell him this is an excellent choice. When we get to the booth, it looks like we’re fifth in line, so we settle in and start chatting as Noah immediately sees a school friend and runs over to say hello.

“Stay where I can see you, Noah,” Jenna calls, and turns to me. “So, can I ask you a rude personal question?”

I snort. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“Sorry,” she grins. “I just meant, I know this is personal, so you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Jenna peers at me, cocking her head. “Is there something going on between you and Hawk?”

I’m totally taken off guard by the blunt question. My mind is racing as I try to think of something to reply, when the sound of loud laugher behind us makes me turn my head.

“Oh, great,” mutters Jenna. “Of course, he would have to bring his kids to get their faces painted at the exact same time.”

Two groups behind us is a tall, dark-haired man with brilliantly white teeth, wearing perfectly-pressed khakis and a starched blue shirt rolled carefully up to the elbows. Beside him is a flawlessly made-up blond who looks like she spends most of her time with a personal trainer or at a spa. Two little girls with wispy white-blond hair stand beside them in matching floral dresses.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“It’s the mayor. Jarred Holloway.” Her lip curls. “And his gross, snooty wife, Annelise. Their younger daughter is in Noah’s class at school.” The shadow of something more than disgust — almost like sadness — crosses her face, but then in an instant it’s gone.

Mayor Holloway is chatting and glad-handing everyone in arm’s reach. It’s clear he’s in full campaign mode. When he gets down the line to us, he holds out his hand to me, but then freezes a little bit when he sees who I’m standing next to.

“Jenna,” he nods politely, and then moves on to the next people.

“He’s a snake,” Jenna whispers to me. At that moment, I remember again that Jenna’s dad used to be the mayor. Out of loyalty — but also because Holloway and his wife look about as fake as can be — I decide I don’t like him at all.

We stand in line and continue to whisper as Holloway leaves his wife and kids to stand in line and walks off to greet other people. Jenna tells me that he has been eager to establish himself during his first year in office, and to make sure he’s not a one-term mayor. “Part of his plan has been to tell the people how badly things in Tanner Springs were going downhill before he took over,” she says in disgust. “Unfortunately, he seems to have the MC in his sights as a way to prove to folks that he can get things done.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“He’s been putting pressure on the club,” she says with a worried look. “Cas tells me he doesn’t think Holloway will be satisfied until he’s run the Lords out of town completely.”

“Can he do that?” I ask, looking over at the cluster of men standing around the grill. I remember what Hawk said to me about the festival being good PR for them.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “In the short term, no. But he’s starting to mount a propaganda campaign against the Lords, and in the longer term, it might work.” She sighs. “Some of the women have said they’re starting to get hostile looks around town from some of the residents.”

As we watch, something surprising happens: Mayor Holloway makes a detour through the crowd and crosses the street, stopping just in front of Rock Anthony. “Uh-oh,” Jenna murmurs.

“What do you think he’s doing?” I ask. Holloway holds out his hand with a jovial smile. Rock frowns and slowly extends his to shake it.

“Like I said, he’s a snake,” Jenna sneers. “Whatever his plan is, he knows everyone here is watching him. He’s playing the nice guy. Here, where it’s all public.”

I see Jenna glance back toward Holloway’s wife, and my gaze follows hers. Annelise Holloway is chatting with a cluster of women behind us, and laughing at something one of them has said like it’s the funniest thing she’s heard in her life. She flips her hair back artfully, and her eyes dart away from the women as though to quickly take stock of who’s watching. Jenna doesn’t look away, and when Annelise notices us, she gives Jenna a tiny smirk and a finger wave.

“Looks like he’s not the only one who knows how to work a crowd,” I say.

“Nauseating, isn’t it?” Jenna agrees.

“What’s nauseating?” a low voice rumbles.