18
PIPER
Hollin was a problem. I hadn’t heard from him since our phone sexcapade, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him. In fact, I couldn’t stop dreaming about him. As if his last command had lingered long past that first night. Hung on by a thread strung between us that I didn’t understand in the slightest.
I’d done everything that I could to not think about him. I’d gone for a run with Blaire, who’d looked at me like I was nuts since I hated running. I’d worked myself to the bone. I’d even volunteered to handle the weekly booth at the Lubbock Farmers Market.
Sinclair Cellars had a permanent booth at the market. Usually, we rotated who was in charge of it. We each took a weekend and blocked it out on the calendar. But when one of our workers, Eliza, had tried to get out of going so
