“I’ve never had any complaints,” he said, his eyes meeting mine for what felt like forever. Then he shrugged, making all kinds of muscles dance under my greedy gaze. “Believe it or not, I never wanted to work at Allory Enterprises.”
I frowned. “Idon’tbelieve it.”
“I know,” he said, leaning on the dryer. “I grew up fascinated by my uncle, who rejected the idea of going into real estate and finance like my father. He was kind of my hero. I worked with him for a few summers when I was in high school. My father wanted me to intern for Allory, but Uncle Jack convinced him working with my hands and sweating would be good for me.”
I nodded. “I mean, knowing how to fix a dryer is a useful skill. And it is way less destructive than anything Allory’s done in the past.”
“I won’t argue with you on that,” Carter said, looking down. “Now you can see why I would have preferred working with my uncle. But that wasn’t the future my father had planned for me.”
“If it’s any consolation, my parents also envisioned a different future for me,” I said with a little smile. “But they didn’t want me to join the family business like your father. They chose to sell out my future so they could move to Georgia to get fat on peaches and barbecue.”
“Is that really why they moved there?” Carter asked, eyebrows rising with curiosity.
“Well, no, I don’t think that’s why they moved there, but that’s what they’re doing.”
His eyes softened. “I know it doesn’t help, but I’m truly sorry they did that to you.”
Warmth pulsed through my chest at his kind words. “And I’m sorry your father forced you to give up your repairman dreams.”
“Thank you,” he said, smiling. “Speaking of which, do you have a toolbox? I need to get under the hood, so to speak.”
I went out to the garage and grabbed the smaller toolbox, the one I could drag around the farm with me. Half of being a farmer was fixing things around the property. I couldn’t fix anything inside the house, but I had learned from experience how to keep everything else running enough to get by.
On the way back to the laundry room, I stopped in my bedroom to run a brush through my hair and put a little powder on. Maybe just a touch of lipstick.
When I got back to the laundry room, I stopped in shock. Mrs. Presley was chatting with Carter, still in just his underwear. She saw me and shot me a smirk, like she knew what I was up to and she approved.
“Mrs. Presley,” I said, trying to wrap my head around what was happening. “I didn’t hear you ring the bell.”
The older woman smiled. “I saw Carter’s truck here, and since you already had company, I figured it would be all right to let myself in. I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”
Carter grinned, doing nothing to dispel the notion we had been getting up to no good. “You’re just in time, Mrs. Presley. I’m about to prove to Shelby I can fix her dryer.”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” she murmured.
My face flushed. “His clothes are in the dryer, Mrs. Presley. Carter took a dip in the duck pond.”
That threw some cold water on the woman. “Oh, honey, no. You’ll end up with the consumption.”
“Is that a real disease?” he asked, looking concerned.
“You showered,” I told him. “You’ll be fine.”
“Anyway,” she said. “I’m here to ask for a favor. You two already agreed to go to the bake-off, and I just lost two judges. Mrs. Corrigan just caught Mr. Corrigan fixing Eileen Vaughn’s dryer, and now they’re getting divorced. I’d like you two to fill in for them.”
Dread filled me. I tried to avoid big local gatherings like that, where I might draw attention from some of the less kind townspeople. Just showing up at the bake-off was a big deal for me. But being a judge? Standing up there in front of everyone, their eyes on me, judging me right back? I shuddered at the thought.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Presley,” I said. “I’m not the most popular person in town. You might not want me as a judge.”
“Nonsense,” she said, waving my concerns away like an annoying fly. “No one will bother you, and if anyone raises a stink, you tell me and I’ll swat some sense into them.” She pointed at Carter. “And you. You’re a big, strong boy. You have to know your way around a piece of cake.”
“Dessert is a weakness of mine,” he said. “Sign me up, Mrs. Presley.”
She nodded. “Excellent.”
I shook my head, feeling bad but unable to help myself. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Presley. I’ll go to the bake-off but I can’t be a judge. That’s too much attention for me.”
The older woman looked like she wanted to say something, but she just nodded, not pressing the issue further. “Understood. I can find one other judge. I’ll expect you both to attend, though. No excuses.” She turned to leave. “And, Carter, you have to wear pants. Non-negotiable. Now have fun, you two!”
