by Rae Davies
Other parts of him got a little flushed too. Memories of her pressed close, her fingers scratching against his chest, were accompanied by a tightening in his groin.
What if Dwayne hadn’t shown up? Would things have continued in the direction they were going? Another image of Patsy, her back pressed against an oak, her thighs wrapped around his waist, nothing but her shorts and bikini separating them, filled his mind.
Friction. When he was around her, there was so much friction, but friction could be a good thing—and with Patsy, it was a very good thing.
Hell. He was getting distracted, and he couldn’t afford that. He needed to concentrate on the problem at hand, namely no window and no electricity. Simple issues, compared to trying to figure out a woman, especially one as unpredictable as Patsy Clark.
He wouldn’t think about her again. That shouldn’t be difficult. He had plenty of other issues to focus on.
He flipped open the book on “Do-It-Yourself Wiring” he’d checked out of the library. His eyes drifted down the page to a section that detailed the joys of joining male and female connectors.
Like he needed a lesson on that. His personal connector jumped at the thought.
Sure, he could forget Patsy Clark, no problem at all.
o0o
Patsy dug into the back of the Bag & Basket’s cooler and pulled out a bottle of Diet Pepsi. It was hot. Must be ninety-five degrees outside and, with the ancient air conditioner wheezing and clanking, the temperature inside was only a slightly more tolerable eighty-two. Her makeup had probably melted off hours ago. She checked her reflection in one of the polished metal doors that led to the storage area. Not pretty.
Her look matched her mood. Ever since her reckless behavior with Will by the river, she’d been in a funk. What had happened? How could she have let him get to her like that? She had been completely out of control, ready to strip off his shorts and roll around on the ground like —like Jessica.
Then Dwayne walking up, bellowing at them. Patsy cringed at the memory. It had been so long since Patsy had slipped like that. Why now? Why with Will? She didn’t even like him, certainly didn’t like his past or the fact that his money opened doors for him that others couldn’t enter. Plus she was finally getting close to escaping Daisy Creek—she could feel it.
She couldn’t mess up, not this time. Focused on the thought, she wiped a smear of eyeliner from under her eye and turned to leave. She almost bumped into Marcia Stephens, who was sneaking out the side door.
Not again. A knot formed in Patsy’s stomach. Ruthann, strolling over with a Dreamsicle, spotted her too. She scurried to the door and stood up on her tiptoes to get a view through the round window.
“Get over here.” Ruthann motioned to Patsy. “She’s doing it again.”
Patsy stood still.
“Come on.” Ruthann waved at her. “Who does she think she’s fooling? The whole town knows what she’s up to. It’s just a matter of time before Carl figures it out too.”
Patsy gave up and trudged to the door.
“How long you think she’ll wait out there? It must be a hundred and twenty in that car.” Ruthann deserted the window long enough to take a lick on her ice cream bar.
“Who knows? Bruce is up front talking to Randy’s momma about donating to the Daisy Daze fund. She may keep him tied up for hours,” Patsy replied. The knot slowly moved up her throat.
“That’s most likely what Marcia has planned for him too. A little lunchtime S and M. You think they role-play? She’s the picky customer, and he’s the burly butcher?”
“He probably just watches her squeeze her melons,” Patsy replied, sounding lighter than she felt. How could Marcia do this to Carl, her daughter, herself?
“What does she see in him?” Ruthann asked. “He’s bald, old, and has hairy knuckles.”
“Maybe it’s the size of his sausage,” Patsy quipped, more from habit than humor.
Ruthann giggled.
Patsy sighed. “It’s disgusting though, isn’t it? She has Carl and her daughter, but every lunch hour she sneaks out to Bruce’s car, waits for him to swagger out, then drives God-knows-where for a midday roll in the produce.
“And she’s not even good at sneaking around. Does she really think we don’t notice her hunkered down on the floorboard when they leave the lot?”
“At least they leave now.” Ruthann took another peek out the window before continuing. “I heard Leroy popped in on them in the walk-in cooler one day. Marcia told him some tale about getting her hair stuck in the milk roller bar and Bruce helping her out. But even Leroy couldn’t see how Bruce needed to have his pants unzipped at the time.”
“Well, all I know is, if she dies of heatstroke out in his car, Bruce is going to have a hell of a time explaining it to her husband.” Patsy turned on her heel and headed back to the front.
She gave Bruce a cold stare. He was no better than Marcia, in her opinion. Just because he was single didn’t give him the right to mess up someone else’s life. Carl deserved better, Marcia deserved better, Patsy deserved better. Yet another reason to keep away from Will Barnes and jump on the first job that got her away from Daisy Creek.
“What you thinking?” Ruthann followed her.
“Nothing important.” Patsy banged her money tray into the drawer.
Ruthann watched her uneasily.
“What? Don’t you need to get to work?” Patsy shoved the drawer closed.
“Bruce’s busy, and there’s no customers.” Ruthann chewed on her lip, then brightened. “Hey, did you drive by Will’s this morning?”
“Why would I do that?” Did Ruthann think she was stalking him or something?
“He had a refrigerator on his porch.”
“A what?”
“A big, old, ugly gold refrigerator.”
Patsy peered at her friend. “How about his window? Was it fixed?” Not that Patsy cared what Will was doing. She was just making conversation.
“Guess that depends on what you call fixed. Looked like he had a road sign hung over it.”
“A what?”
“A road sign. You know, ‘detour ahead.’” Ruthann leaned over the conveyor belt, closer to Patsy. “I don’t think his neighbors are gonna like that much.”
Who would?
“You don’t think he’s gonna leave it there, do you?” Ruthann asked.
“The sign?”
“No, the refrigerator. You know, like people who have a couch on their front porch?”
An image of a polo-shirted Will entertaining Jessica and his snobby sister on his front porch, complete with velour sectional and harvest-gold refrigerator, popped into Patsy’s mind. “It’d be worth seeing.” She grinned.
“Somebody has to tell him he can’t have a refrigerator and a road sign on his porch. Not on Oak Street. It’s not like my street. Those people’ll get out the torches.”
Patsy wasn’t sure if Ruthann meant to burn his house or to hunt him down, but the thought of angry townspeople chasing him through the streets made her grin again.
“I don’t like that look.”
“What look?”
“You got that ‘I’m gonna do something bad’ look.”
“Don’t be silly. That wouldn’t be neighborly.” Patsy looked around for Randy’s mother. She’d left Bruce’s side and was standing near the deli. “Watch my lane, will you? I need to talk to someone.” With a parting grin at Ruthann, she trotted down the aisle.
o0o
Who could be at his door? Will brushed the cobwebs off his face and stumbled up the basement stairs. If you could call it a basement; it was really more of a cellar: dark, dank, and filled with scratchy noises Will tried not to dwell on.
Standing at his door with a chocolate cake and a cross look was a fifty-something matron—steel hair, stiff smile, poker up her ass. Cindy in thirty years. Breathing a sigh of relief that he’d escaped the future on his porch, he pulled open the door.
Standing behind the older woman, ou
t of view of his peephole, was Patsy Clark. She was wearing a hideous purple smock and a sly smile.
Will smelled trouble.
“Will Barnes, look at you, all growed up.” The matron sailed past him into his house. “I can’t believe you’ve been living three doors down from me, and I just heard tell of it.” She held the cake out to him. “Just a little welcome-to-the-neighborhood gift.”
“Thanks, Mrs….” He grasped the cake in front of him like a shield.
Patsy sauntered past.
“You like German chocolate? I’m not too fond of it myself—the coconut, you know—but it was all they had fresh at the Bag & Basket and my boy Randy, he loves it.”
“Randy Jensen?” Will looked a question at Patsy. She was busy studying her nails.
“That’s right.” The older woman patted his arm. “I can’t believe he didn’t tell me you were living here. Your momma was such a dear friend.” She tsked.
He’d never actually heard anyone tsk before, and his mother was nobody’s momma. He raised an eyebrow at Patsy.
Patsy, still looking down at her hand, grinned.
“God bless Patsy Lee here for telling me you were having problems. It’s not right to leave a neighbor in need.”
“Yes, bless Patsy.” He gave Patsy a look relaying all the blessings he could muster. She practically glowed with angelic kindness.
Demoness.
“I mean, it’s hard not to notice things are a bit off, what with the sign and the refrigerator and all.” Mrs. Jensen stepped between him and Patsy. Will angled his neck to keep a watch on the instigator of this torment while Randy’s mother prattled on. “Truth be told, I was a bit concerned when I drove by this morning, but after Patsy Lee explained your situation, I just knew I had to stop by and help.”
“What situation, exactly?” he asked, his gaze boring into Patsy. Seemingly unconcerned, she shoved her hands into her pockets and leaned against the wall.
Mrs. Jensen had wandered out of the foyer and into the front room where the floor sander still leaned near the broken window. Will stepped toward Patsy. She tilted her head up, her eyes dancing with humor.
Will took his most intimidating stance, using all of his height to tower over her. “Thought you’d help me out, did you?”
“It is only neighborly.” Patsy pushed away from the wall and started after Mrs. Jensen. Will laid a restraining hand on her arm.
“There are a lot of ways to be neighborly,” he whispered. “Perhaps you’d like to investigate a few others.”
She paused for a moment, then looked into his eyes. “I think you’ve got the wrong neighborhood.”
Something in Will’s chest tightened at her challenge. “I spent a lot of time researching this one,” he murmured.
“Too bad, ‘cause it looks like you made the wrong choice.”
Mrs. Jensen came back around the corner, and Will released Patsy’s arm. This move might not have been everything he expected, but one thing was sure—he was liking his choice.
o0o
Patsy was in a good mood, downright skippy. She wasn’t sure exactly what had possessed her to turn Randy’s momma onto Will, or to follow her over there, but it had put a spring in Patsy’s step.
Mr. I-don’t-need-help-from-anybody had met his comeuppance. Plus, dealing with Randy’s momma would keep him busy and out of Patsy’s life, which she needed.
Tied up with every do-gooder in Daisy Creek, he’d be so busy ordering bric-a-brac and eating casseroles, he’d have no time to cross Patsy’s path. He might not even make the barbecue Dwayne invited him to.
Patsy felt a stab of disappointment at the thought.
No, she didn’t want to see him. She wanted him busy and tucked away in his Victorian mansion. Now she needed to concentrate on her goal to leave Daisy Creek.
The first step was breaking her dependency on Granny. Patsy picked up a pen and signed away two years of payments to AT&T. No more missing messages. After waving away the clerk’s offer of a bag for her new cell phone, she jogged to her Jeep. There, she dialed Glenn’s number. She had met him a month ago during a seminar at the University of Missouri-Rolla. This morning in the Rolla paper there was a notice that an engineering team was looking for someone to do web design and Glenn’s name and number were listed. If she was lucky, this would be her big break. His voicemail answered, so she left a message with her new number.
Finally, she was making some progress. She clicked the daisy-decorated cover onto her phone and stashed it in her purse.
Now there was nothing Granny or Will could do that would get in her way.
o0o
Will could not believe the havoc Patsy Clark had wreaked on his life. Since the float trip, his nightly sleep had been disturbed by visions of Patsy parading in nothing but her bikini, water dripping from her hair, nipples erect from the cold. It was more than one man should have to bear. Then, in addition to haunting his dreams, the real living-breathing Patsy had unleashed a band of gray-haired matrons and coverall-wearing men into his home. He had no peace day or night.
But he was not going to admit defeat.
No, far from it. Little did Patsy know, but this was the best thing that could have happened to him—forced him to reevaluate his priorities.
He’d made a mistake buying a house in need of so much work.
Starting over didn’t mean strapping on a tool belt. It meant doing things his way. And that is what he was going to do.
He eyed the stack of paint cans and wallpaper samples. Home décor wasn’t important.
Starting a business of his own design was. Time to focus.
He hopped over the drop cloth Ralph was using as a bed and picked up the phone. First he would work on his business plan, then he’d deal with Patsy Clark and her green-bean brigade.
The doorbell rang while he was on hold for Richard Parks. He ignored it; no reason to aid the enemy.
The bell was quickly followed by a light rap. Ten seconds later, Jessica Perry pushed the door open. Wearing a sundress decorated with tiny red hearts, she swished her skirt back and forth while she waited.
Will turned his back on her as he strained to listen.
“Glad you called,” Richard said.
Jessica’s heels tapped across the bare floors. Will tried to block the sound and concentrate on what Richard was saying. “I just got wind of a great opportunity. It’s got everything you could want—surefire moneymaker, build the community, all that. Couldn’t ask for more.”
Jessica leaned over to examine the floor sander, giving a more opportunistic man a full view of her cleavage. Ample, but he was more a perky man. Perky with a side of attitude. Will clenched his teeth as the dream Patsy and her green bikini popped into his head.
Great, she was haunting his daydreams too. The woman really needed to learn some consideration.
“You there?” Richard asked.
Will grunted.
“How about lunch tomorrow?”
After agreeing to meet at the newspaper office around noon, Will hung up.
“Making plans with anyone I know?” Jessica glanced down at her manicure, then snapped her gaze back up at him.
Will suddenly felt like the last nacho at a poker game.
“What a coincidence. I was stopping by to invite you to lunch.” Her hand ran down the neckline of her dress, stopping somewhere a little north of impropriety.
Make that the last bratwurst at a tailgate party.
“I could show you some office space while we’re out.” She swished closer, breathing the words through a cloud of musky perfume.
The last Budweiser at the Super Bowl?
In search of fresh air, he took a step back. “I’m kind of fully stocked with casseroles right now.”
Smoothing her skirt, she breathed, “I could help you out.”
“Great idea.” Zipping into the kitchen, he grabbed three casseroles—one tuna, two green-bean—and a bowl of something fluffy and pink. “Don’t worry about washing the
m when you’re done. I think a dishwasher is on the plan for Wednesday.” Shoving the dishes into her hands, he hurried her to the door. “Just drop them by anytime.”
“But… the office space.”
“No rush. I’ll call you.” After shutting the door, he leaned against it and let out a sigh of relief. Another narrow escape. He already had one woman to deal with. She was more than enough.
o0o
“I applied at the BiggeeMart today.” Ruthann pulled the curtain back, staring out into Granny’s backyard. A bluebird poked his head out of a weathered birdhouse. “They said they had positions open in the pharmacy and jewelry—a lot classier than checking at the B & B.”
“Yeah, I’d much rather be discussing foot fungus and hemorrhoids all day.” Filling from a Hostess pie oozed onto Patsy’s hand. She licked a bit of apple off her wrist. Three days since she’d left a message for Glenn and nada. Why hadn’t he called?
Three days since she’d seen Will. Why hadn’t he called?
She chastised herself for the thought. She didn’t want Will to call. Her plan was working. She should be happy.
“What about the jewelry? There’s nothing wrong with that,” Ruthann said.
Nothing right with it either. Patsy’s mind drifted back to Will. Wonder if he got a new refrigerator yet? His window was fixed. She’d just happened to drive by his place yesterday. Couldn’t help but notice. It wasn’t like she was going out of her way to see him. He lived right on Oak Street.
“Momma’s last boyfriend bought her a diamond tennis bracelet from the BiggeeMart. You should see how it sparkles,” Ruthann continued.
“All that sparkles isn’t gold,” Patsy quoted, popping a corner of crust into her mouth. In Patsy’s experience, most things that sparkled were just flashy lures.
Giving her a confused look, Ruthann replied, “‘Course not, I told you it was diamonds.”
It wasn’t worth explaining. “Did you ask for jewelry?”
“No, I didn’t want to be pushy. I told ‘em I’d take whatever.”