When Hank drew back, my head thudded against the wall. It didn’t hurt, but it knocked me back into reality. I’d jumped this man’s bones, but we were past the eighteen hours I’d predicted. That was a win, right? Absolutely. I gave myself an imaginary high five.Good job, me.
My momentary preoccupation with self-congratulations for the amazing restraint I’d shown made me miss Hank lowering me to the floor. My knees buckled a little at the surprise impact, and I stumbled. The withdrawal of his warmth and steadiness bothered me in ways I couldn’t put into words. What should have been grounding—the literal act of putting my feet on the ground—was disconcerting. Whatever it was, I was left feeling lonely.
“Whoa, sugar, you gotta be careful,” Hank said.
The huskiness of his voice almost left me undone. The men I’d dated—not that Hank and I were dating—usually treated me as a good time. In fairness, that was exactly how I presented myself, but this moment felt wildly different. We’d hung out exactly twice, and he sounded concerned. And tender. And worried. It was a whole vibe.
“I’m weak in the knees for you, Daddy. What’d you expect?” I said all cheeky.
His snorted response was what I had expected. Whatever disappointment came with it, I stuffed it down deep inside. My flirting meant nothing in the grand scheme of life, but it was fun with Hank. He got flustered and tongue-tied, and it was nice to feel like I was pulling my own strings for once.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“It’s part of my charm.”
Hank shuffled his feet but kept his eyes trained off in the distance. It was enough to hide the tiniest curl of his lips into an almost-smile, but not quite.
It was obvious he was taking a deliberate step backward. I’d expected it, but the sting was there anyway. The air between us felt colder than it should have. Like he’d taken all the warmth with him when he stepped away.
My daydreaming over the last week had followed a consistent theme. In my overactive imagination, Hank had shown up on my side of the fence and said how infatuated he was with me. There’d been a searing kiss that left me weak in the knees, a confession that he hadn’t stopped thinking about me, and an admission that he’d totally noticed me working in the yard in my shortest shorts.
Sadly for me, real life didn’t match the swoon-worthy fantasy. Although I had gotten the kiss I desperately wanted. And it’d been even better than the fantasy version. And now that I was thinking about it…even with a few missed confessions, the fantasy was kinda sorta there. I’d take it.
If nothing else, my week away from Hank had proven one thing: staying distraction-free was good for my productivity. Without his manly temptation clouding my judgment, I’d scrubbed, wiped, and scoured the house into a Pinterest-worthy sparkle. Every bathroom was disinfected to within an inch of its natural life, and the wood gleamed like I was going to turn it into my own personal slip-n-slide.
Now the fun part could begin. That, of course, meant going to town and finding some pieces that screamed Comfort. I’d love for Hank to volunteer to take me, but that was pushing the envelope too much. I could forgive myself for jumping on him after not seeing him for a week. But a day shopping for antiques? Maybe grabbing a bite to eat? Being in a car together with so little space between us?
I’d never survive.
And if he wasn’t going to mention the impromptu make-out session, then neither was I.
I could get in trouble in this variety store. First, how cool that they had one. Second, who found all the stuff that made up the randomness?
My intention had been to grab a few items on my list, but nothing seemed to make sense in the store’s layout. It seemed to have been alphabetized by a secret code that someone forgot to share with me. After thirty minutes of finding nothing on my list—but a basketful of things I hadn’t known I needed until I saw them—I finally asked the guy on duty, and he found it all within ten minutes. I followed him around like a puppy until it was time to head to the front and check out.
“So you’re the one who took over Sissy’s place,” the clerk announced as he moved behind the counter to ring up my stuff. He spoke louder than necessary in the quiet hardware store.
“You got it in one,” I said with what I hoped was a friendly smile. The way he’d said it had sounded like he had a problem with it, but the actual words were neutral. Given the sudden addition of three people with nothing in their hands milling around the checkout, I realized the volume was no accident. “Did you know Sissy?”
The older man wheezed out a chuckle that had me concerned for his health, but he didn’t seem bothered, so maybe it was fine. He dropped onto the stool behind the counter and looked like he was settling in for a chat.
“Oh yeah, Sissy and I grew up together. Her family owned the land behind ours out on Hwy 27. You know where the old chicken barns turned into flea markets are?”
I shook my head.
“Well, never mind. They burned down a few years ago anyway.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah, it was a shame. They had lots of interesting stuff out there. I got a baseball card collection that I spent days going through.”
“And Sissy?”
“Oh yeah—anyway, her family was in the little house right off the highway. You know her grandma lived with them?”
Again, I shook my head.
“Yeah, that woman could grow anything. You’d see her out working with her flowers in her sun bonnet like the pioneer women wore. I know Sissy used to laugh about it, but after her grandma passed, you’d go by and see Sissy out there in the middle of her garden, just sitting with that hat on her own head.”
