Clover ripped her eyes off of him. They resisted, but she insisted.
“Will you give him a tour while I sign for the deliveries?” asked Jane.
Clover would rather run her hand down a cheese grater, but this was Jane asking. Jane was the best. “Sure.”
“Great! I’ll see you both in the kitchen in a few minutes.” Jane hurried to open the door for the delivery guy.
“Well, looks like I’m stuck with you.” Clover headed to the kitchen to unload her arms. She didn’t bother to check if Dustin followed her. He did. She could feel him right on her heels. Personal space. Sheesh. Shoving the swinging door open with her hip, she asked, “Can you make a PB&J?”
Dustin set his bags on the stainless steel prep area. “I’m not an idiot.”
“You’re a baller.”
He lowered his eyebrows. “So?”
She prepared herself to deliver one of the zingers she’d come up with after leaving the club. “So everyone knows professional ballplayers are little boys who don’t want to grow up.”Boom!
He stared at her, a loaf of bread in his hands and his eyes full of hurt. The pain was so easy to read in his green pools of deliciousness that Clover immediately empathized—feeling the barb of her own insult. Her lack of kindness ate at her like a gremlin in her belly.
Jane burst through the door. “How’s it going in here?”
“Wonderful,” Clover muttered at the same time Dustin cursed, “Brilliant.”
“O-kay.”
“Not much time for a tour.”But enough time to say something stupid.Clover unpacked as quickly as she could. If she was going to have sandwiches put together and bagged, she’d have to hurry.
“Well, this is the kitchen, and you saw the shelves out front where we have canned and boxed goods for our patrons. There’s a limit on what each person can take a day to ensure each person who comes in gets something. We eat on the tables to the left of the shelves.” Dustin nodded while Jane spoke.
Clover snuck a peek at him out of the corner of her eye. All traces of hurt were gone and Dustin was Mr. Business. Mr. Hot Guacamole Business. He shouldn’t look that good in the middle of the day. Didn’t ballplayers have to practice or something?
Jane pointed to the swinging door. “Your photographer is out there getting some shots of the place. She wants to start at the front of the store and then maybe get some action shots in the kitchen.”
“Whatever works,” Dustin said.
So his volunteer time wasn’t so much hands-on as it wassay cheese. “Figures,” Clover said under her breath.
Jane ushered Dustin to the door, and Clover sucked in air like she hadn’t breathed the whole time he was here. Jane must have heard her Hoover-ing the oxygen, because she paused, her hand holding the door open. “You go on ahead. I’ll be right there.” She smiled as she let the door swing shut behind Dustin before rounding on Clover. “What is the deal?” she hissed to keep her voice down.
Clover threw her hand out to the side, pointing. “He’s a total fake. He doesn’t care about what we do here. He’s only here for, I don’t know, his image or something.”
Jane pointed to her chest. “I. Don’t. Care,” she whispered loudly.
“What?” Clover shook her head like it was one of those games that come in a kid’s meal with the BB that could only find home base if the player tipped the plastic board. “He’s not doing us any good. In fact, I’m behind.” She threw her arms over the prep table to indicate the lack of sandwiches.
“He’s doing us a world of good by being here. Our budget is always too small, and the kind of free publicity Dustin Colt can give us is exactly what we need right now. We can’t wait for Christmas donations, Clover. People need to eat 365 days a year.”
Clover pressed her cool palm to her warm forehead. “You’re right.”
“Can you please play nice with him while he’s here?” Jane’s earnestness tugged at Clover’s conscience. No matter what his contribution, Dustin was contributing. She should have been more gracious. And she would have been, had he not been a complete jerk the other night. Still, his misbehavior did not excuse her lack of grace.
“Yes. Of course.” She could do anything for an hour or two—especially for The Pantry.
“Thank you!” Jane blew her a kiss as she pushed her way into the guest area.
Clover shook her head at herself. She was usually sozenandlove your neighboranddo unto others. Dustin Colt brought out the worst in her. She could admit her part in their disagreements. There were always going to be certain personalities that didn’t mix, and hers and Dustin’s were like vinegar and oil. She sighed, looking at the sandwich fixings before hurrying to get the ground beef out of the fridge. They were serving spaghetti tonight, and she needed to get the meat browning.
The ovens were behind a wall covered in metal sheets, and by the time she had the meat under way and rushed back to make sandwiches, Dustin and his photographer had moved into her territory. She huffed as Dustin made sandwich after sandwich while the photographer said inane things like, “This lighting is great for your skin tone,” and “The ladies love a man who is good in the kitchen.”
