But farmers’ markets were no longer just the territory of produce. A good farmers’ market could offer almost everything you needed for a week’s worth of great meals. Eggs, chicken, pork, sausage, beef—you name it, someone local was producing it. I circled the stalls, taking note of everything I wanted to try while I was in town. And as I circled, I found myself right back where I started. The big and the long—yeah yeah yeah.

Since Leo delivered to us, it would only be polite to say hi. Using the anonymity of the crowd, I give him a proper checkout. He was at least six feet two, long and lean, like someone who swam and ran track, rather than played football. He had an easy smile, and he was quick with it. I watched as he interacted with people he knew, people he didn’t as he stopped to shake hands, and when he came around the table to help a little old lady carry a basket out to her car, I couldn’t help but smile. Country Hipster was not only hot, but he was sweet. Lethal.

As I was getting in line to say hello I heard my name being called, and I turned to see a very good-looking man approaching.

Chad Bowman?

Oh boy. Captain of the swim team Chad Bowman. Senior class president Chad Bowman. Voted Best Looking, Best Body, and Most Likely to Succeed Chad Bowman.

And he’s walking toward me. The last time I saw him was at graduation, after he signed my yearbook. Then he walked away with Amy Schaefer, the prettiest girl in my school, probably to have the sex. The last time I saw him, I may have been drooling.

“Roxie? Holy shit, Roxie Callahan!” He caught me in a giant bear hug, pulling me off my feet. “I haven’t seen you since, oh man, was it graduation?”

He smelled like sunscreen and honey and something intangible. Was it the scent of success? The scent of perfection? Of the good life, the incredible lightness of being handsome? The scent of knowing who you are and what you want and how to get it? Because a guy like this doesn’t take no for an answer. Doesn’t know the meaning of shy or nervous. He just knows awesome.

I inhaled another hit of high school royalty before he could put me down and his stunningly gorgeous wife would no doubt appear and ask why he was hugging some town girl wearing a T-shirt that said That’s Not Cream Filling.

“Chad, it’s great to see you, how’ve you been?” I managed as he finally set me down. I wasn’t stammering; California Roxie had returned!

“I’m good, really good actually,” he said with a wide grin. God, he even had perfect teeth. “How about you—what’re you doing back home?”

“Oh, just helping out my mom. She’s heading out of town for a while to do—”

“The Amazing Race, I heard about that!” he exclaimed, looking over his shoulder, doubtless for his wife.

“She’s told half the town, I bet.” I sighed, enjoying this moment in the sun with Chad Freaking Bowman. I peeked over his other shoulder. Would she be petite and brunette? Tall and blond?

“She told half the town, and that half told the other half,” he chuckled, waving at someone over my shoulder. “Roxie, I’d love for you to meet—”

I turned to finally see—

“—my husband.”

Tall and blond it is.

I ended up having coffee in a small café in the barn with The Chad Bowman and his husband, the equally charming and handsome Logan O’Reilly. Actually, I bet he was someone’s The Logan O’Reilly. And while my high school self would have been incredibly nervous about sitting at the cool kids’ table, I found myself surprisingly at ease. Perhaps I could remember who I was this summer after all.

“I can’t believe how easy it is to talk to you,” I admitted, taking a big bite. Bagels on the West Coast had nothing on these. Nothing.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Chad asked, looking confused.

“You’re Chad Bowman,” I replied simply, licking a glob of cream cheese from my thumb.

“And?” he asked after a pause.

“You’re, like, the guy. And I’m sitting and talking with you like I’m a cool kid from way back! If we were still in high school, I’d assume you wanted me to help you with homework —which doesn’t actually make sense, since you were in honor society. I mean really, how blessed can one guy be?”

“Oh, very. Blessed,” Logan added, which made me giggle.

“I remember you were a little shy back then,” Chad said, ignoring Logan’s comment despite the color creeping into his cheeks.

“That’s like saying you were a little gorgeous. Fortunately I’ve moved past most of that, though I admit I had a little nervous pang when I drove into town yesterday, wondering if it would all come screaming back.” Not at all, scrambling for nuts and peas on the floor. Changing the subject smoothly, I asked, “So, how are you? What have you been up to since high school?”

“Things are really good. We moved back into town about a year ago from the city.”

“And where are you from, Logan?” I asked.

“Iowa, then Manhattan.”

“Wow, that’s a big difference.”

“Totally. Which is why, after Chad brought me up here to meet his folks and I got a look at life along the Hudson, I knew this is where I wanted to live.”

Chad picked up the conversation. “We’re renovating a house on Maple. Remember the old pink house on the corner?”

“The one with the lace curtains fluttering out of those broken windows?” I made a face. That house was hideous.