Love Is All Around (27 page)

During dinner, Will was his usual charming self. Granny preened at his compliments and bullied him into eating seconds of everything. Patsy suspected he’d never eaten this much fat at one sitting. He didn’t complain though, and seemed to genuinely enjoy the pies.

He used a fork and knife to cut off a bite. “These are great,” he said.

Patsy giggled. “Not like that. You have to use your hands—see?” She picked up her pie and bit off a chunk.

“You leave the boy alone, sis. If he wants to eat it with a fork, that’s fine by me.” Granny bit into her own pie.

Will dropped his fork and picked up the pastry. Holding it out, he examined it.

“What?” Patsy asked.

“I was just thinking, you made these from scratch?”

“Of course.”

“Well, they look kind of like a Hostess pie, don’t you think?”

Patsy nodded.

“You ever try making one with pudding?”

Granny dropped her napkin over her plate. “A fried pudding pie? Son, that sounds about as tasty as snails on toast.” She shook her head. “And people say folks from the Ozarks eat strange.”

When they were done with dessert, Will presented Granny with the cookbook he had brought, and Patsy sent her into the living room to watch TV.

“You worked all day. We can clean up.”

“Don’t you be making that boy clean up. He’s our guest.”

With Granny settled in her chair and with the WWE blaring, Patsy and Will cleaned off the table.

“Where’s the dishwasher?” Will stood in the center of the floor, balancing a stack of dirty plates.

“You’re looking at her, unless you want to volunteer. Scrape those dishes first.” Patsy nodded to the trashcan.

“How do you live without a dishwasher?” Will slid his load onto the countertop and began dumping scraps into the trash.

Patsy laughed. “It’s not like air, you know.”

“Might as well be. If my mom or sister had to hand wash a dish, they’d be petitioning the president.”

“For what, their God-given right to kitchen appliances?” Patsy slid a plate into the sudsy water. “You’re exaggerating. Plenty of people don’t have dishwashers.”

“Nobody I know.”

“Granny and I don’t, and what about your house? It didn’t have a dishwasher, did it?”

“There was some kind of ancient roll-around thing, but Mrs. Jensen had it replaced with a built-in.”

“Here, dry.” She shoved a dishtowel into his hand. “Well, I know plenty of people who don’t have dishwashers, or microwaves, or, brace yourself, Internet connections.”

Will staggered back in a fake heart attack. “Say it isn’t true.”

Patsy giggled. “Just dry.” While he performed his assigned task, Patsy watched him out of the corner of her eye. This evening had been so perfect, cozy.

Will with Patsy’s family was like peanut butter with jelly—from completely different beginnings, but perfection when blended.

After cleaning up, they joined the dogs on the back porch.

“What’s all this?” Will picked up the roll of oak strips.

“You said you wanted to learn basket weaving.”

“I do, but I didn’t think—”

“You don’t have to think, at least not this time. Just follow the plan, and do what I tell you. You think you can handle that?” Patsy shoved the metal pan into his hands. “Now get some water.” She gave him a playful frown.

While Will wandered over to the spigot, Patsy fussed over the basket materials, smoothing out the plans and double-checking to make sure nothing had grown legs and wandered off—or been snarfed by a pug in search of a chew toy.

“What kind of basket are we making?” Will asked over the sound of running water.

“You mean, you’re making. I’m just supervising.”

“You have one bossy mistress, don’t you, Pugnacious.” Will knelt down, letting the pug slurp from the pan.

“Don’t let her do that.” Patsy threw up her hands.

Will scratched the little dog behind her ear and pushed her toward Ralph. “Go tree something. Your mistress is going to teach me a thing or two.”

“Put the pan down and grab that roll of reed.” Patsy pointed to the other side of the wide, round table.

“This?” Will held up a bundle of sea grass.

Shaking her head, Patsy again motioned to the reed.

After he handed it to her, she said, “Now you have to measure and cut it into strips. The plan says thirteen-and-a-half inches long, but you can do whatever you like.” She bent over the table, studying the tape measure.

Will leaned in close, sniffing her hair. “You still smell good.”

Patsy pushed her hair behind her ears. “It’s grease from dinner. You could fry a dishrag and it’d be appetizing.”

“Are you saying you’re appetizing?” His tone was light, but his words caused something to flutter in Patsy’s stomach.

She wasn’t going to play. The evening had been going so well. Sexual innuendo would just land them back at the same point—Patsy wanted out of Daisy Creek, Will didn’t.

Flipping the reed over, she said, “See how one side is rougher than the other? You want the rough side to face up in the basket.”

“Interesting.” Will ran his finger down the length of reed and continued on, traveling up her arm. “You have a scar here.” He traced a white patch of skin on her forearm. Again, his voice held only light curiosity, but his touch changed the flutter to a thump.

“Old hunting accident,” she quipped.

“What were you hunting?” He ran his finger around the white skin.

And she’d always thought she had no feeling there. She pulled her arm out of his reach.

“Smart-aleck city boys.” She pressed a wooden handle for the basket into his hand. “Fried, they’re almost as good eating as a dishrag.”

Will held the handle up to the light, inspecting it. “Who’s the smart-aleck now?”

Patsy ignored him and continued with her instructions. “We’re going to staple the reed to the handle, not one hundred percent authentic, but fancy enough for a beginner.”

“What makes you think I’m a beginner? My technique not polished enough for you?”

Patsy flushed. If his technique was any more polished, she’d have him pinned to the table right now.

“Once we have five strips hanging down, we can start weaving, like this.” She demonstrated moving a sixth piece of reed through the ones attached to the handle.

“I think I get it. In and out. In and out. In and—”

“What we’re—” Patsy’s voice was louder than she’d intended. She moderated it some and continued “—going for here are these square holes.” She pointed to the picture of a finished basket, then moved on before he could add another comment she didn’t want to deal with. “Now we staple again, so we have a diamond in the bottom of the basket.”

Will stepped closer until he was looking at the basket over her shoulder.

“You could see better over there.” Patsy gestured to the other side of the table.

“The view here suits me fine.” He smiled at her, only inches from her face.

With her heart pounding in her chest, she raced through the last few steps. “One last staple and you’re done. Now you can dye it or leave it natural. I like the aged look, but a walnut dye might be nice too.” Her voice was shaky. He was so close. His breath was warm against the side of her neck and something deep in her stomach clenched with each exhalation.

Mouth close to her throat, he murmured, “I think I’ll leave it as is. The best things in life don’t need improving.”

A shiver flew up her spine. She had to put distance between them. Using clean-up as an excuse, she slid from his reach. “I can’t think of too many things that can’t use improving.”

“Maybe you just think they need improving. Once you try it, you may discover they don’t.” He stepped toward her again, letting his hand rest lightly on her arm.

“And I may discover they do.” She jutted her chin up, looking him in the eyes. He was trying to confuse her, but she knew what she wanted.

“You may discover all kinds of things. I know I have.” His eyes glimmered and his hand traveled further up her arm, massaging her skin.

Patsy stepped backward. “Thanks for the flowers, and the cookbook for Granny, and the dog treats. Pugnacious loved them.” It was abrupt, almost rude, but she was desperate. She’d resisted far more than any woman should have to.

Will let his hand fall from her arm, his gaze shuttered closed. Looking at Ralph, he patted his leg and said, “Come on, boy. Looks like we’re done here.”

Patsy and Pugnacious followed them to the door. Patsy lasted until Will and Ralph were off the porch before allowing her knees to crumple and her body to land in a crouch. This friendship thing was way more complicated than she’d planned.

o0o

Will was in love with Patsy, and she wasn’t interested. The discovery wasn’t a pleasant one, but there it was. Spending time with Patsy at her house had made it all clear.

Patsy laughing and teasing and relaxed. She brought out a side of him most people didn’t see. He’d come close to pushing aside their agreement and his own earlier resolve, forcing her to admit she wanted more than friendship, but she’d made it more than obvious his feelings weren’t returned.

He’d come close to humiliating himself, too close.

He had to put a stop to this. After Sunday, he’d thought he had it under control. He knew his plan to toy with her, to prove she wasn’t any more immune to the attraction between them than he was, was asinine, but alone with her he couldn’t stop himself.

If Patsy wasn’t interested, he had to move on. There were only a couple of ways to forget a woman—find another one or lose yourself in work. Will picked up the phone and dialed Perry Realtors.

o0o

Another basket finished. Patsy placed the jack-o-lantern next to the hamper. It was great. A little quirky for her, but she loved it. She’d seen a basket like this in a fancy country decorating magazine and decided to make one. The magazine showed kids trick-or-treating, but Patsy suspected more people would buy them just to hold candy or for a centerpiece.

She picked up Will’s daisies and set them inside. The colors weren’t the best, but it was a good idea. Maybe she’d get some fall flowers, maybe even dried ones, for the website photo. Even after the awkwardness at the end of last night, she couldn’t wait to show Will. They got along so well together. They’d get past the other. They had to. She was removing his bouquet when the phone rang.

It was Glenn.

“Great news. Sunrise loved the site. The testimonials really sealed it.”

Patsy dropped into a chair.

“Are you there? I said they loved it. The marketing manager is going to call you personally to compliment you.”

“That’s great. I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, think of something, because my guess is she’s going to be asking you to drive north for an interview. She asked me if you’d be interested and what kind of pay you’d need to make the move.”

What kind of pay?

“I didn’t know what you had in mind, but I told her you were already working on another project and she’d better get an offer in soon if she’s interested.” He paused. “Are you still working on the site for that friend of yours?”

Patsy looked at the daisies. “Yeah, but I’m not doing any real web work. Just helping with pictures and stuff.”

“She doesn’t have to know that. It’s better if she thinks there might be some reason you want to stay in Daisy Creek, and another job is perfect. Don’t let it slip that there’s nothing keeping you there. I think you can negotiate a better package that way.”

Nothing keeping her here. One daisy poked higher out of the basket than the others. Patsy tucked it back inside, breaking the stem in the process.

“Did you hear me?” Glenn interrupted her work.

“Yeah, don’t let her know nothing’s keeping me here.” She stared down at the broken bloom. “You’re probably right.”

“Damn straight. How about we get together for dinner to celebrate? Not tonight, I have a project to finish up, but tomorrow? Is there any place decent to eat there?”

Dazed, Patsy answered, “We could go to the Dogwood Inn. It’s nice.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at six. See ya then.”

Long after he hung up, Patsy sat with the phone in her hand, the broken daisy resting on her leg, and the jack-o-lantern basket smirking at her.

o0o

“You’re late.”

Patsy pulled her smock off its hanger and ignored her boss. He got more and more charming by the second. She fed her timecard into the machine and stomped into the store. Bruce started railing on Leroy about limp lettuce or dented cans or some other world catastrophe.

Patsy held her fingers an inch apart and mouthed to Leroy, “Tiny dick.” At Leroy’s chuckle, Bruce swirled around.

“Don’t I pay you to scan groceries?”

If you could call minimum wage pay, he did.

“If you want to get another paycheck, I suggest you twist your behind up to that cash register and get to it.”

After he turned back to Leroy, Patsy indulged herself in an adolescent eye roll and sashayed to the front.

“What tripped his trigger?” she asked Ruthann.

“I don’t know for sure, but Marcia called in sick. Could be Carl’s finally onto them.”

Patsy’s stomach coiled into a knot. For all that she’d lectured Marcia, she hadn’t wanted this. She just wanted Marcia to wise up and stop cheating. Carl finding out about the affair would only cause hurt all around.

“So, I’ve got news.” Ruthann sprayed her scanner with Windex and wiped it off.

“Really?” Patsy smiled at a twenty year old toting two kids and a cart full of Lay’s and Mountain Dew.

“Randy asked me out.” Ruthann beamed.

“That’s nice.” Patsy removed a half-eaten Hershey bar from the toddler’s hand and passed it over the scanner.

Ruthann curled her lip at the chocolate stain left on Patsy’s hand. After ripping off a paper towel, she handed it to Patsy. “Here.”

She watched as Patsy counted out the young mother’s change and bagged her purchases. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Patsy looked at her friend’s indignant face. “I am. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”

Ruthann dug stickers out of her smock pocket and handed them to the children. “Will?”

“No, I told you we’re just friends. Actually, I have a date with Glenn.”