“I see. So... Are the holes for new landscaping or are you just preparing burial sites for all the chickens and goats Georgie’s sure to run over?”
“Don’t forget the emu.”
“She ran over an emu?”
His mom giggled. “An emu’s supposed to arrive later this summer. What—I didn’t tell you that either?”
“Mom.”
She laughed and leaned into his side. “We really have a lot to catch up on, don’t we? Now come on,” she said, motioning to the trunk. “Grab the rest of your things.”
Why did Nate already have the feeling this wasn’t going to be the quiet, relaxing visit he’d been planning on?
MCKENNA
“I don’t know what Nate’s version of the story is, but I can tell you for a fact that his text message was rude. I don’t care who he thought he was talking to, he should’ve been more polite. Stalkers have feelings too. Not that I’m a stalker. I’mnota stalker. Don’t you dare write down the wordstalkernext tocriminal.”
NATE
“Okay, fine. Should I have asked for a little clarification or maybe listened to one of the voicemails before I sent a strongly worded text message and blocked the wrong crazy person’s phone number? Possibly. Maybe. I don’t know. I still feel justified by my actions. Same way I feel justified about wearing tiny shorts when I run. I know that makes no sense right now, but it will in a second, and I think you’ll be on my side on that issue too.”
“That isn’t all you brought, is it?” Nate’s mom peeked back at his rental.
“For now,” Nate said, clutching the strap of his messenger bag. “The airport lost my luggage.”
“Oh, don’t you just hate that? That’s why I only fly with a carry-on these days. Well, I think you’ve still got a few things in your old bedroom you can wear. Plus, you can always pick up some clothes from Marty’s Mercantile if you need to. And if all else fails, I’m sure I’ve got small enough shorts you can borrow.” She elbowed him in the side.
This was something she always loved teasing him about. “My shorts are not that small.”
“You sure? That picture you sent in the spring after your half marathon showed a lot of leg.”
“They’re running shorts. They’re supposed to be like that.”
“Tell that to Barb. I showed her the picture at chess club and she went straight to confession because she said she felt like she’d ogled a half-naked man. Of course, then she asked me to send the photo to her so she could print off paper copies and keep them in her purse to hand out to any single woman in the area that she thinks would be agood fit for you. Heads up, I’m pretty sure Georgie and Barb have a date or two they’ve lined up for you while you’re home.”
“I hope you’re joking.”
“I hopeyou’rejoking. You’ve met Georgie and Barb, right?”
He had. Every time he came home. When they tried setting him up on a date. “Mom,” Nate said as he opened the front door, stepping aside to let her enter first, “I’m not here to date and mingle. I’m here to spend time with you and that’s it.”
He didn’t get the chance to say any more on the matter once he stepped inside. “Nate!” a voice shouted from the dining area, followed by an “About time!”
He didn’t have to look to know the voices belonged to Barb and Georgie. Maybe because of her build, maybe because she spent a lot of time talking about her garden, Barb always put Nate in mind of a female real-life version of Bob the Tomato fromVeggieTales. So naturally the tall and slender Georgie, whose favorite color to wear was green, always reminded him of a female Larry the Cucumber.
“So happy you’re home,” Barb said with a giant smile, followed by a frown the further he stepped forward. “What happened to your head?”
“I think it suits you,” said Gus, who never put Nate so much in mind of a cartoon vegetable as he did one of those side characters in an old western who goes by a nickname like Stumpy. “Makes you look like even more of a foxy heart-breaking devil,” Gus added, lifting his coffee mug in a salute.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come, come in.” Georgie, dressed in a short-sleeved button-down emerald top, waved Nate to where they were all seated in the dining area. It sat to the right of the entry and check-in desk. Nate shot a quick glance to the stairway that led upstairs, then to the room on the left.
Interior hadn’t changed much since the day his mom took over the place years ago. Faded flowery wallpaper. Stiff furniture. Lots and lots of doilies.
“You can catch the tail end of our gardening club meeting,” saidGeorgie, still waving him closer to the long rectangular wooden table in the center of the dining room. “Barb was just about to explain the secret to growing a great watermelon.”
“Water,” Barb whispered, then placed her finger to her lips like it truly was a secret.
Nate adjusted his messenger bag on his shoulder and stepped further into the dining room, the scuffed wooden floorboards creaking with every movement.
