“Yes, you did. Your mama raised a gentleman.” Holly had to fight hard not to swoon. Why did she have to be so damn attracted to a country boy who would never understand her workaholic ways? “FYI, I was joking. I don’t let guys sleep over until I know them much better, like maybe on the tenth date.”
He stood up and extended his hand to help her.
The steamy, hot vibes between them started again when she put her hand in his. Even when he let go, she still felt shivers chasing down her spine. He handed the brown bag of pies to her. Then he folded the quilt and tucked it under his arm. He laced his fingers with hers, and she wasn’t a bit surprised when a fresh bunch of sparks skipped around in front of them like they were lighting the way to his truck.
“I really have had a wonderful time tonight,” she said when they were inside the vehicle again, “and I’m already looking forward to cooking supper on Tuesday.”
“Would it seem too eager if I asked for tomorrow night instead?”
“Not at all,” she answered. “Seven still good for you?”
“Yes, it is. I’ve got several things to take care of tomorrow, but I can get cleaned up and come around by that time. Do you have a preference for that wine?” he asked as he opened the truck door for her.
“Not really,” she answered. “You pick.”
“Can I bring a six-pack of beer for me?”
She set the bag of pies on the floorboard in the back. “Yep. No problem.”
Thirty minutes later, he parked in front of the house and walked her to the door. When she unlocked it, he kissed her on the forehead. His warm breath so near to her lips made her yearn for more.
“Goodnight, Lula Ann. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed an evening so much,” he said.
“Me, either,” she said, breathless. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
Like a perfect gentleman, he waited on the porch until she was inside and had flipped on the lights. She slid down the back of the door, took her phone from her purse, and called Darlene.
“Are you still ready to go to jail for murdering me?” Darlene asked when her face popped up on the phone.
“No, but I may send you a cheesecake tomorrow morning. He’s perfect, and I can’t have him,” Holly whined.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m Lula Ann, and I’m only here for a week, and can’t you see my mama if I brought him home?” She changed her tone. “Mama, this is Bubba Jones. He’s a hired hand on a ranch. She would faint dead away, and Daddy wouldn’t speak to me for a month because I upset her.”
“She wouldn’t care if you brought home a homeless man if you were happy,” Darlene argued. “I didn’t know you were a respecter of persons. So he works on a ranch. What’s wrong with that? Was he good in bed?”
“I only got a kiss on the forehead, and damn it …” Holly swore. “We forgot to divide the fried pies. I was supposed to get half of them.”
“Back up, girl, and tell me all the details,” Darlene said.
Holly started with the bouquet of wildflowers and walked her through everything she could remember up until Bubba kissed her on the forehead. “Then the most perfect date I’ve ever been on was over.”
“What made it so great?”
“There were no airs. I didn’t have to worry about him being with me for my daddy’s money. We laughed and talked and enjoyed a movie that must be more than thirty years old.”
“Maybe you should come clean about who you are,” Darlene suggested.
“I might at the end of the week, but not before. I want to have this whole time to make wonderful memories, and from now on, I plan to judge every man by Bubba Jones’s yardstick.”
“Want me to dig into social media and find out what I can about him?”
“No, I do not. That could break this lovely bubble that I’m living in right now.”
Chapter Three
Holly walked the entire length of the meat counter in the local grocery store on Tuesday morning and then turned her cart around and started back. She considered steak au poivre but figured that was far too fancy.
