Page 5 of Never Say Maybe


Font Size:

“I can dance,” I say, but they just keep laughing.

“Anyway,” Champ says. “You can’t pressure her, but you have to be persistent enough that she doesn’t think you forgot about her. Take your cues from her. Move in, then back away. And never underestimate the power of being able to make a woman laugh.”

“That’s not half-bad advice,” Truck says, grabbing another muffin.

“It’s not even quarter bad,” Champ says.

Weber’s voice carries up from downstairs. “Morning!”

It’s his day off, but we need to meet about Bordeaux Days.

“Muffins?” he asks, eyeing the plate on the middle of the table.

“Ginger baked them,” Truck says.

“We need wives,” Weber practically whines.

“Why do we need wives when we have Ginger?” Truck asks, his voice one hundred percent sincere.

Champ gives Truck the stink eye. “You don’t have Ginger.”

Weber chuckles. “No one’s after your wife, Champ. We just want her baked goods.”

Champ nods.

Truck sticks his hand out toward Champ. “I’m just messin’ with you, Champ.” They shake.

When Truck winces, I chuckle. Serves him right.

“So, let’s get this meeting underway,” Weber says. “Jed White’s got a fresh pick of corn at the stand and I don’t want to be left with those straggler cobs after Memaw and Esther and all the early birds get their pick.”

“Priorities,” Truck says.

“Darn straight,” Weber says.

He pulls one of the chairs out and flips it backward, then drops down so he’s straddling the seat.

“So, basically, we’re doing the corn roast and cob-drop from the ladder truck?” Weber asks.

“Basically,” Champ says.

“Who’s running the buttered cob slide?” Truck asks.

“They need to rename that,” I say.

“Why? That’s been the name since I was a kid,” Champ says.

“That’s one more reason,” I say.

“I think Aiden, Duke and Rob volunteered to man it this year.”

“So, we’ll need to ride around to the local farmers and pick up the cobs they set aside for us,” Champ says, getting us back on track.

Truck looks at me. “We’ll use EJ’s truck.”

“That’s the volunteer spirit,” Weber says with a chuckle.

“I’m going with him. Shotgun,” Truck says.