I shake my head and turn away. “Never mind.”
“No, you can’t do that. Now I have to know.” She comes around the counter and holds her arms out to the side like she’s going to block me from leaving until I tell her. It’s hilarious. She barely comes to my chin and she might hit a hundred pounds soaking wet. If I wanted past her, she couldn’t stop me. But I tell her anyway. Hell, maybe she’ll give it a try and see what happens.
“Those ladies came in to shop because they heard from Effie that we were flirting. They wanted the gossip with a side of new clothes.”
Her nose wrinkles right along with her upper lip. “Wait. You want us to fake flirt? Fake date? To drive sales?”
I shrug like it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world.
Betsy starts to laugh, though it takes me a moment to realize what’s happening. When I’m sure she’s not having a seizure, I wait her out. She wipes at her eyes and her black liner smears. I grab a tissue off the counter and hand it to her. She swipes until it stops coming back black.
“Like one of those cheesy Christmas romance movies?” She starts laughing again. This time I join in.
“I know it’s ridiculous, but is the idea of flirting with me that repulsive?”
She takes one look at me and starts laughing again. I roll my eyes. Jeez. I’ve gotten broken up with over text that has left me feeling more self-confident than this conversation. Yesterday at church, she’d touched my arm willingly. I’ve caught her looking at me before and figured she found me attractive. Maybe I’ve been way off base.
“Do you have a boyfriend back home?”
That sobers her quickly. She sucks in a deep breath, straightens her spine, and throws the tissue in the trash. “No.”
She spins on her heel and marches away, clearly not wanting to talk about it. Okay, I guess that’s a touchy subject.
“It’s fine,” I call after her. “We’ll make our goals the honest way, don’t you worry.”
“I’m not worried!” she calls from the storage room.
Except, Iamworried. And now that the idea is in my head, I can’t seem to let it go. Would it have been so bad to have to flirt with Betsy? As the hours creep by, I find myself watching her with a different perspective.
Deuce was right.
She’s hot.
In a dark and gloomy, Oscar the Grouch kind of way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Betsy
Of course Silaswould be outside helping a customer take her shopping bags to her car like a true Southern gentleman when the grumpiest old man in all of Heaven, Mississippi, darkens our door. Mr. Barrett comes in with a bang, slamming the door behind him, bell ringing out in alarm. He taps his cane against the wood floors and glowers at me. My lips tip up into the first real smile of the day.
Oh, sweet honey child. You don’t know who you’re messing with. If glowering could make money, I’d be one rich motherfucker.
“Where’re the blouses?” he barks. No hello. No good morning. Just blurts out what he needs.
It’s actually refreshing. If I have to engage in one more bout of small talk, I might just puke down the front of my borrowed floral dress. Today’s outfit is courtesy of the clearance rack, a dress Silas ordered and wasn’t able to sell during the spring. It’s a cross betweenLittle House on the Prairieand a Cabbage Patchdoll. Add in the Doc Martens and I can understand why Silas winced when he first saw me this morning.
“Right over here, sir.” I come around the counter and show him the rack of new blouses we just got in this morning. I have more in the back to hang up, but with Silas out playing Knight in Shining Armor, I have to cover the sales floor. Mr. Bennett clomps over, his cane making as much noise as my boots.
“Where’s the blue?” he shouts at a decibel that just might break the city of Heaven noise ordinance.
I rear back, looking to protect my eardrums. “I can hear you just fine. No need to audition for a megaphone.”
Mr. Bennett’s eyes narrow, but he does lower his voice. “I need a blue blouse.”
I smile kindly, or at least what feels like a kind smile. Silas informs me that my smiles mostly look like grimaces. “Is the blouse for you?”
Mr. Barrett looks like the top of his head might explode. “Of course it’s not for me! It’s for my daughter. She’s interviewing for a new job later this week.”
