Here Comes Trouble (7 page)

"Why do you get to do the salt?" he asked.

"Because I know just the right amount to use."

The slug sort of writhed and Stella seemed very
pleased by the fact. "You aren't going to eat it,
are you?"

"No." She giggled. "It melts 'em, like the
Wicked Witch of the West. If you use too much,
though, it'll hurt the plants. So it's best I do it
since I know how much to use."

"Seems like a lot of work. Do you do this often?" It seemed sort of a nutty thing to do. But watching her go after these slugs was something
he wouldn't have missed for the world.

"It's become a ritual," she said, sprinkling on a
little more salt. The slug didn't much seem to like
it.

He laughed. She was the nuttiest woman he'd
come across in a long time. He'd forgotten how
much fun she'd always been, how much fun he'd
always had with her. "Now what?"

"We go back to the sidewalk and start over
again."

Moonlight lit up her gamine features. She was
an elf or some other fairy creature, sent especially
to enchant him. Quin couldn't resist anymore. He
finally did what he'd wanted to do ever since seeing her again. He leaned forward and stole a kiss.

Maybe he'd intended it to be a friendly kiss, at
least he hoped he had. But that's not what it turned
out to be. Not when Stella grabbed him by the
collar and dragged him closer. If he'd known as a
teenager how well she kissed, she'd never have
accused him of ignoring her.

What a kiss. It was sweet and poignant and
womanly all at once. She tasted like vanilla and
flowers and all things feminine and she was enticingly warm. How could one small bundle of
woman make him feel so alive?

He wanted to keep kissing her, but he heard the
sound of a door opening.

He cracked his eyes open. Mrs. Maplethorp.

Slowly pulling back from Stella, he whispered,
"We shouldn't be doing this outside." He brushed
a strand of her hair from her forehead.

Stella looked a bit dazed, but then she gave him
a lazy smile and nodded.

He indicated Mrs. Maplethorp with his head.
"We have an audience."

Stella turned to look. She groaned, then buried
her face in her hands. "She's got her portable
phone. She's probably giving a play by play to my
mother."

He helped her to her feet, then they went to her
front door, pausing just inside the open door. He
kissed the tip of her nose. "I probably shouldn't
come in."

"You're right. Nobody invited you."

"Of course I'm right."

"Did I ever tell you I hate it when you're right?"

He drew her back into his arms and kissed her
again.

She felt just about perfect in his arms. Feeling
pleased with himself, and a little smug, he gentled
the kiss. "I should go now."

She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Yeah.
I've still got papers to grade."

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

She nodded.

"Good. We can talk about what we want to do after the reunion. I was thinking you might like to
go to dinner, first, over in Topeka." She stiffened
in his arms. "Then after the reunion, we could
fly..."

She pulled herself away. "I might have known."

"What?" What was wrong?

"You arrogant, smug-slug." Her eyes shot
daggers at him.

He'd seen that look before. Ten years ago, in
fact. Quin gulped.

She put her hands on her hips. "You don't have
any clue what you did, do you?"

There was no way he could answer without getting into further trouble, so he kept his silence.

"Did it ever once occur to you, you bigheaded
lout, that I'd like to be asked? You told me I
would be your date for the prom when we'd hardly
talked at all in years. Now you come home after
being away for a decade and do the same thing all
over again."

Quin rubbed his face with his palms, palms still
tingling from touching her only moments before.
Had the Troublemakers gotten it wrong? Didn't
she want to go the reunion with him?

"I wouldn't go to the reunion with you if you
were the last man on earth."

"Don't say anything you'll regret later, Stella,"
he warned. Maybe Prissy had gotten it wrong; she
was certainly wrong about the shy part. Surely she couldn't have gotten the reunion part wrong as
well? "Your mother said-"

"Don't interrupt me. I'm trying to make a
point."

He wouldn't laugh. It would only make things
worse. The problem was that she was just as adorable angry as she was on a slug hunt.

"Just because I let you kiss me-"

"You let me kiss you? I thought there were two
of us involved. We kissed each other."

"Let, kissed, it makes no difference. It was just
a kiss. It didn't mean anything. You may be
charming and handsome and, yes, intriguing, but
that's all. If you'd asked me to go, maybe I'd have
agreed."

Was that what this was about? Quin grinned.
Now that he could handle. "Would you please do
me the courtesy of going to the reunion as my
date?"

"Too late, slug." She began to pepper him with
a shower of salt.

Quin held up an arm to block the salt shower
and realized he was knee-deep in figurative slug
slime. "Honest, Stella, I was led to believe that
you were expecting me to take you to the reunion."

"My mother?"

"The whole group of Troublemakers."

"I should have known." She'd suspected her mother was up to something. "It's late, Quin. Time
for you to go home."

"Okay, if I have to. But how about a goodnight
kiss?"

She snorted.

It didn't seem like the sort of sound a woman
would make before puckering up. He sighed. "I
didn't think so."

"You were right for once." He heard her
chuckle as she pushed him out the door, then
closed it.

Quin stood there with his nose nearly touching
the door for a few moments, totally clueless about
how things had so quickly gone from perfect to
wrong.

But then he smiled. It wasn't totally dire. She
found him charming, handsome, and intriguing.
He could work with that.

He turned, brushed the salt from his shoulders,
and whistled as he strolled back to Main Street.
Being home might prove to be an adventure.
Based on Stella's kiss, he couldn't help but think
she was as interested in him as he was in her.

Life hadn't been this fun in years. Everything
about Stella appealed to him, made him grin earto-ear, and he was having a heck of a great time.

As he passed the house next door to Stella's, he
called out, "Good night, Mrs. Maplethorp."

His only answer was the slam of a screen door
as the porch light went out.

The telephone lines in Littlemouth were burning
like extra-hot jalapeno peppers. As usual, the
Troublemakers were at the center of the maelstrom.

"Mrs. Maplethorp saw them with her own
eyes ..."

"He kissed her ..."

"She grabbed him and kissed him ..."

"They were making out like teenagers without
a chaperone ..."

"We did it..."

"A match made in heaven ..

"May will be a lovely time for a wedding. .."

"You know what this means ..."

"My son will stay in town!"

"My daughter will be married before Millicent's
daughter!"

Stella's phone began ringing at 6:30 A.M. Deciding to let her machine pick it up, she groaned
and buried her head under her pillow. Thanks to
Quin, she hadn't fallen asleep until after three.

"I know you're home, Stella Elizabeth Goody."
Her mother's voice was loud and clear over the
answering machine speaker. "Pick up the phone."

Deciding to ignore her mother, Stella burrowed
further under the covers.

"Call me." The answering machine disconnected the call.

Stella knew exactly what her mother wanted to
talk about-Quin. She wasn't ready to talk about
last night yet. She didn't even want to think about
Quin.

Fifteen minutes later, the phone rang again. The
caller didn't leave a message. After three other
calls, one on top of the other, Stella gave up all
hope of returning to sleep.

After a quick shower, she dressed and headed
outside. She had some tomato seedlings ready for
planting. Working in her garden was never a
chore, and it also gave her a good excuse for not
answering phone calls.

When she dug into the soil with a trowel, an
image of Quin's cocky face appeared in front of her. Stella stabbed the earth. How could she have
been dumb enough to kiss him? It wasn't as
though she didn't know better.

She put a small plant into the hole, then moved
onto the next spot. The soil fell away when she
jabbed and twisted the trowel. It's a good thing
Quin wasn't around or she'd be tempted to do the
same to his smug slug face.

They'd seemed to get along so well last night.
But a leopard didn't change his spots. He'd always
been bossy and his success as a reporter probably
reinforced it.

So why had she kissed him?

It's not as though he'd be staying in Littlemouth. Stella had to put a little dirt back into the
hole because she'd been too exuberant with all that
twisting and jabbing. She slipped in the next seedling.

Grabbing a rubber band from her jacket pocket,
she pulled back her hair. A clump of dirt fell from
her hair into her eyes. She rubbed her face with
her arm, then leaned over to dig the next hole.

In a few short weeks, Quin would be long gone.
Good riddance. She didn't need him confusing her,
cluttering up her tree house and her life. And she
sure as heck didn't need to spend any more time
reliving how firm and secure his arms had felt
around her or how gentle his kiss had been.

"There you are, Stella."

Her mother. Stella looked up. "Good morning."

"You're energetic this morning. I wondered
why you hadn't answered my call."

"You called?" Stella hoped her face looked innocent enough.

Her mother silently eyed her for a moment and
Stella wondered if she'd given herself away.
"You're not wearing sun screen are you?"

"Guilty as charged."

"You've got a fine complexion now, but if you
don't take the time to care for it, you'll regret it
when you're my age." Her mother smiled. "I've
come bearing gifts. I brought you some coffee
cake."

Stella laid down her trowel, rose, and brushed
off her knees. "I suppose you want coffee."

Her mother raised one brow. "That would be
nice."

"That came out wrong, Mom." She hadn't intended to be rude, she simply didn't want to have
the conversation her mother obviously wasn't
about to let her avoid having. "Come inside and
I'll get us some coffee."

When they entered her kitchen, Stella eyed the
parcels in her Mom's arms and asked, "What else
did you bring me?"

"Oh, this and that."

Stella rinsed her hands in the sink, then poured
coffee into mugs. Would her mom take a hint? "I need to get those seedlings into the garden this
morning."

As her mother removed her coat and settled into
a seat at the table, Stella knew she wouldn't have
that kind of luck. Not this morning. Not after Mrs.
Maplethorp had told her mother about the kiss last
night. Might as well get it over with. Moreover,
she needed to point out the fact her mother had
gone against Stella's wishes about the reunion.

"Do you need some help with making your pies
for the fair tomorrow?"

"I've got the apples all cored and sliced." Stella
shrugged. Her mother knew her methods so this
was probably a conversational gambit. "I made the
pastry ahead of time and it's thawing in the refrigerator. I'll bake them tonight."

"Your pies sold so well last year, it's good of
you to offer a dozen of them this time. Miss Tipplemouse has been talking about a number of
books she plans to order for the library with the
money raised from the Trouble Tarts booth.
Maybe this year, we'll beat the Ladies Auxiliary
in the amount raised for charity."

The Friends of Littlemouth Spring Fair was a
big event with various booths and games available
in order to raise funds for several Littlemouth good
causes. Everyone had fun and in return charities
benefitted. Stella was looking forward to attending
and it wasn't hard to prepare the pies for the TROUBLE booth, especially since she did so
much of it ahead of time.

"So, what brings you over so early this morning?" Stella placed saucers, silverware, and their
mugs on the table.

"It's not that early. I've already been to the Ladies Auxiliary fundraiser. In fact, I got you something there."

Stella sat beside her mother. "Dare I hope it's
one of Cait's birdhouses?" Cait made ornamental
birdhouses as a hobby and Stella owned several.

Her mother nodded and handed her a plastic
grocery bag. "I think you'll like this one."

Stella opened the bag and pushed the tissue
aside. "It's darling." She placed the birdhouse on
the table, then leaned forward and kissed her
mother's cheek. "Thanks, Mom. As far as guilt
offerings go, it's a good one."