And of course, there was the sign.
Mounted above the stand like a Hollywood marquee, the letters blazed in warm white bulbs: DOLLYGOODS. Big, bold, impossible to ignore, just like its namesake.
Bella stared out the windshield. “Is that a disco ball?”
“Unless you’re in the mood for a long-winded story involving her second husband, a bowling championship, and morally justified disco revenge, I recommend you not ask her about it.”
I parked and killed the engine. Before I could even open my door, the stand’s window flew open.
“Well, don’t just sit there, Benny,” a husky voice called out. “I didn’t get up at the ass crack of dawn to admire your truck.”
Bella gasped. I bit back a smile.
“Morning, Dolly,” I called, climbing out.
The woman in question—all five-foot-one of her—stood behind the counter, silver hair tucked neatly under a bejeweled bucket hat that had seen better days. Her lipstick was aggressively red, her earrings were enormous, and her smile was sweet enough to lull you into a false sense of security.
Until she opened her mouth, that was.
“You’re late,” she said. “I got everything all packed up for you. Even threw in an extra dozen of those little lemon things you like.”
“Dolly—”
“Don’t argue with me.” She leaned over the counter to fuss at my sleeve, brushing off imaginary lint. “Seriously, do I need to have a word with the team’s dietician? You’re practically wasting away.”
There was no point in arguing with a woman who talked a mile a minute and was old enough to be my grandmother. Or maybe great-grandmother.
I grabbed the stack of boxes she slid across the counter—pink, of course, and still warm. The smell of butter and sugar hit me all at once.
“You’re a saint.”
“I know,” she said. Then her gaze slid past me.
And landed square on Bella.
“Well, well,” Dolly said slowly, eyes lighting up. “Who the hell is this pretty thing?”
Bella’s lips twitched, her clearly fighting a smile as she glanced at me. “Bella Pink. Nice to meet you.”
Dolly leaned forward, squinting at her like she was appraising a prized watermelon. “You got good posture, Bella,” she declared. “I like that. Strong bones, too.”
“Um, thank you?”
“And I can’t help but notice that you’re wearing his sweatshirt,” Dolly added, nodding at Bella’s chest.
Bella’s cheeks flamed instantly. “He . . . lent it to me.”
“Mm-hmm,” Dolly said, deeply satisfied. “That’s how it starts.”
“Dolly,” I warned.
“Oh, hush up, Benny. I’ve been alive longer than dirt. I know a thing or two.” She wiped her hands on her apron peeking out from beneath her Roasters jacket. “I’ve got two-hundred bucks riding on you guys making it to the World Series again this year, so you better not let me down.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, cheeks burning now. “The season hasn’t even started yet.”
Dolly waved me off like I’d just claimed the sky was green. “Details. I’ve got a feeling in these old bones.” She turned back to Bella, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And I’ve got another feeling about you two. Mark my words, sweetheart, this one’s a keeper. I should know. I’ve been married four times.”
“Five,” I reminded her.
