“Do you not remember me yelling at you across the table? I almost knocked you out of your chair when you blocked my settlement.”
“I remember.” I smile fondly.
Another person enters the store and Fable groans. “My god, there haveneverbeen this many people here.” She looks over her shoulder, and we both spot the new customer at the same time.
“Cathy,” we whisper.
Fable turns back to glare at me, and I know this is my last chance. While I’d love to give her more time to process this information, time is a luxury I don’t have.
“Fabes, listen. What if we... pretend we’re in a relationship? I’m fighting an uphill battle here, and I need all the help I can get.” She looks taken aback, but I keep going. “I’ll seem more settled and like I’m putting down roots around here. Because, hell, you’re practically Fern River royalty. Everyone loves yourfamily.” Her lips part, a rebuttal forming quickly, but I power through to the end. “I’m willing to help you somehow in return. Just name your price.”
Her head shakes immediately. “Theo, that’s ridiculous. And I don’t need anything from you.”
Behind Fable, I see Cathy turn our way. Ionly have seconds left to seal the deal. “Please.” Suddenly, inspiration strikes. “I could help with the A-frame. Iworked in apartment maintenance all through college. Ican do pretty much anything you need.”
For three long seconds, she just stares at me. Then she asks pointedly, “Why don’t you just find yourself arealgirlfriend?”
The list of reasons why I don’t do relationships scrolls through my mind.Because I won’t let myself. Because it’s not safe. Because I can’t repeat what my dad did.
But none of that is going to come out of my mouth standing beside the nail selection at Hawkins Hardware. “I can’t, Fabes. Idon’t do relationships. That’s why you might be the only solution here.”
Her head tilts. Unease twists in my stomach. She’s either considering it or debating how she’s going to kill me with the nails beside her. “No,” she finally decides, lifting her chin. “You and I can barely be in the same room without bickering. No one would believe it. And I can fix the A-frame on my own. Idon’t need your help.”
“But—” I start, my voice coming out strained.
Mr. Garfield comes into view beside us. “I found the spackling, but you all seem to be out of scrapers,” he says, headed our way. Fable doesn’t give me a second glance before she turns and leads him toward the next aisle.
She’s already out of sight when I finish, “But what if I needyourhelp?”
Chapter 5
Fable
“Let me know if those work.” I slide the box of screws across the counter to Cathy. “If they don’t, call us and we can special order some.”
She got me into this mess with Theo, and I can tell her blue eyes are glittering with questions. Isaw her stalling as she walked around the store, waiting for her chance to press me about Theo. But I’ve refused to indulge her. I’ve done my own stalling, hoping Logan will walk back in and rescue me. He has very little patience for nosy people and even less patience for Cathy. When there was a rumor of a feud between Logan and Diana, who owns the thrift shop, apparently Cathy pestered him for details until he got so frustrated that he shouted, “For fuck’s sake, Cathy!”
That was very offensive to her delicate ears, but it’s become a secret motto around town.
“I appreciate your help.” Cathy leans her hands on the counter. “Again, so sorry for interrupting you and Theo—”
Logan slips into view just in time, with two to-go cups from Coffee Cottage. Cathy presses her lips together, tips her chin up, and walks toward the exit. Logan tucks one cup into his elbow to grab the door for her.
“Logan.” She stares down her nose at him as she leaves.
He dips his chin in greeting and once the door shuts behind him, we both murmur, “For fuck’s sake, Cathy.” We have matching grins as he hands me a cup.
“Thank you. What did you get today?”
“Some lavender honey shit.” He brings it to his lips for a wary sip and shrugs. “It’s not half bad.”
“Mabel really knows what she’s talking about, huh?” For a man whose office coffeepot looks like it was made fifty years ago, Logan’s been awfully adventurous with his drinks when Mabel’s serving them. Last week, it was some sort of mango-flavored concoction and yesterday he came back with what he called a rainbow latte.
I’m starting to wonder is she’s pranking him at this point.
His cheeks flush pink and he clears his throat. “She’s good at her job.”
“She must be. Got you trying all kinds of stuff.” I hide a smile behind my cup.
