“No, Mom. I’ve got everything under control. Just enjoy yourself. I’ll keep you posted.”
She works her top teeth over her bottom lip. “If you’re sure. I want to make certain that you’re okay. If this Pane guy is bad news, I don’t want him anywhere near you.”
“It’s totally fine. No worries.”
“Okay.” She sounds and looks unsure, but since I’m tossing out my thousand-watt grin, she has no choice but to keep on keeping on.“Call if you need anything. It doesn’t matter what time it is. Just pick up the phone.”
“Will do. Love you.” I toss out, “Love you, Bill!”
“Love you, Rowe!”
After hanging up, my phone’s silent for about half a second before it screams to life. Cristina’s video-calling.
I accept the call and see her gorgeous face, blond hair spilling over her shoulders. She’s sitting in her car, in what appears to be the drive-thru lane of Creature Comforts Coffee.
Cristina leans into the camera, eyebrow lifted. “Rowe. What is going on?”
“What are you talking about?”
“First, I save you from the parade of cars in front of your house, which is my fault. So.Apologies.Next thing I know, Pane Maddox is about to work a chain saw at the hardware store.”
“What?” The phone slips from my hand. I scramble to grab it before the device plops onto the floorboard. “What?” I screech again when I’ve got Cristina’s face in view.
“Yes. It’s all over the group chat.”
“What group chat?”
She rolls her eyes. “The one that the old ladies have. You know, Clarice Sinclair started it so that she and her friends could dish about single men. They wrangled me in because I’m the only one who could set up the group.”
“Why haven’t you left?”
“Because.” She sighs. “They ask for my opinions on the eligible bachelors who are of a certain age, if you know what I mean.”
“And you’ve been keeping this from me?”
Her gaze drops. “It is my shame—and mine alone—to bear.”
As hysterical as it is that Cristina is part of an older-woman group chat, the idea of Pane Maddox working a chain saw makes acid surge up the back of my throat.
He’ll kill himself.
He’s not even wearing the right shoes.
“Gotta go,” I tell her.
“I’m coming, too. I want to see this.”
Before there’s a chance to tell Cristina not to head over, she hangs up and I’m throwing myself out of the truck.
That’s when I spot it. To the side of the hardware store sits a wooden fence. Standing in front of the fence is what appears to be half the town.
Oh no.
Pane’s going to kill me.
I slam the door and rush over, squeezing between Ron from the feedstore and Clarice Sinclair.
“’Bout time you showed up,” she huffs. “The show’s about to start.”
