He looked down at his clothes, grimaced, then looked back at me. “You’re welcome.”
The burly driver leaned out the window. “All set?”
“Yes,” I called. “Thank you!”
“Tell Mizz Addie that George Myers says hello.” He waved back as the truck rumbled away, leaving me alone with Matt and my remorse.
I shifted the upside-down box to my other hand. “I’m so sorry. If you wait here, I’ll get some paper towels, and...”
He held up his palm and looked down at his clothes. “I think this’ll take more than a couple of sheets of Brawny.”
“Oh!” Nervous motormouth-itis kicked in. “Yes, yes, you’re right. I’ll get your clothes cleaned. Just take them off and give them to me, and...”
He arched an eyebrow.
Oh, dear—it sounded like I wanted him to drop trou in the middle of the street. “I mean later. When you’re in private, probably inside your house.” I was sounding weirder and weirder, and I just couldn’t stop myself. “You can take them off and give them to me. Not that I’ll be right there to take them. I mean, I won’t be watching you undress.” I was just digging a bigger and deeper hole. “You can bring them to me, or I’ll come and get them, and... and I’ll take them to the cleaners. To get cleaned.” I wished one of those sinkholes I’d seen on the news would form right under my feet.
He looked at me. I wasn’t sure because the sun was shining behind him, but I thought there might be a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Thanks, but I can manage.” He gestured to the box. “Just tell me one thing: why did we go to all this trouble for an empty box?”
“Gran says she hid pictures in it.”
“It’s empty.”
“It has a false bottom.”
“A false bottom.” He looked at me as if I were ready for a rubber room and a straightjacket.
I felt as if I were. I desperately tried for humor. “I know, I know—it sounds like something from a bad movie. Or the title of a bad country-western song title.” I gave him a hopeful grin. “‘Her bottom was false and so was her heart.’”
Oh, thank God—Matt laughed! The sound was deep and throaty, and it did something funny to my chest.
“The way you look right now reminds me of an actual song,” he said. “It goes something like, “I Like My Women a Little on the Trashy Side.’”
I looked down and realized the front of my shirt and shorts were smeared with gunk. I gave a sheepish grin. “If that’s the case, I must be pretty irresistible just now.”
Wait. Had I just madeanothersuggestive remark? What was myproblem? My face heated.
It didn’t seem to bother him much. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
He jogged into his open garage. I carefully set my prize box upside down in his driveway, then picked up the boxes I’d helped throw on his yard and put them in his now-empty trash can.
Matt returned a minute later, minus his jacket, with a roll of paper towels and bottle of hand sanitizer under his arm. He dabbed at his shirt and tie as he walked toward me. By this time I was collecting packing peanuts.
“Here.” He handed me the towels and sanitizer and took the box from me. I cleaned my clothes as best I could as he reached into his pocket and pulled out something shiny.
“A pocketknife?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, aren’t you the Boy Scout.”
“Actually, I was.”
“Eagle Scout?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“I’m impressed.”
