by Penny Reid
Billy and Duane did stuff together, but they were always real quiet about it.
We all did stuff with Roscoe, because he was the youngest and we took turns.
But sometimes, rarely, like tonight, Billy would seek me out and we would talk. Usually, I’d spend the time making him laugh, telling him jokes and tall tales. He seemed to like that about me. At times, he seemed to need that from me.
Maybe that was why he asked me about my troubles now, because I hadn’t cracked a joke.
“Have you heard the one about the fisherman and his pole?”
Billy shook his head, his eyes bright, a small smile curving his mouth. “You remind me so much of your sister.”
I cocked my head to the side, his phrasing struck me as bizarre. “How so?”
Billy blinked like I’d startled him. He closed his eyes and waved his hand in the air. “You know. Funny.”
“Ashley? Yeah, I guess she can be, if she sets her mind to it.” Ashley was funny, but her humor was more like my momma’s, more like Cletus’s—sharp, witty, dry—whereas I preferred rooster jokes and exaggerated stories.
Billy opened his eyes once more and studied his drink. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Seeing no reason to avoid the conversation, I said, “I’m having trouble at work.”
“With what?”
“Our new employee.”
Billy inspected me for a beat, then his attention moved to some point above my head as he nodded slowly. “I see.”
I didn’t see how he could see anything of the sort. The man worked all the time. Here it was almost midnight on a Friday and he was just coming home from the office.
“Anyway, it’ll sort itself out.” I searched my mind for a subject change.
“You’re referring to the lady mechanic?”
“That’s right. Shelly.”
“Quinn’s sister?”
“That’s her.”
“Quinn is a good guy.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know him.”
“What’s the problem? Maybe I can help.” Billy stretched his long legs in front of him.
I exhaled a laugh. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Why not? I have a lot of employees.”
Gritting my teeth, I considered what to say before settling on, “It’s not that kind of trouble.”
Billy’s forehead wrinkled and he mouthed the word Oh. And then he smirked.
I rolled my eyes.
He chuckled. “You and Cletus both.”
A cold knot twisted in my stomach and I dropped my eyes to the book in my lap. “What about me and Cletus?”
“He’s got lady troubles, too.”
“Yeah, well. I know who the woman is.”
“Really?”
“Yep. He told me a week ago, he’s got intentions for Shelly.”
“Shelly?” Billy inspected me.
“Yep.”
“Nope.”
“Billy, come on.” I closed the book, setting it on the table next to me. “He was all dressed up, showered before noon, in that new shirt Sienna got him for his birthday—”
“To see Jennifer Sylvester.” A small, knowing smile tugged at one side of his mouth.
“What?”
“Jennifer Sylvester. That’s who’s got Cletus wrecked.”
Jennifer Sylvester?
The Banana Cake Queen?
The meek little slip of a woman?
And how the hell does Billy know?
“No.” I shook my head.
“Yes.” He nodded his head.
“First of all, Cletus will never be wrecked for a woman,” and definitely not how Billy meant, “because he’s not built that way. And furthermore, he told me—”
“He’s delusional.” Billy flicked his wrist, batting away my argument. “And you’re wrong. That’s how we’re all built. Give him time. He’s smart, he’ll figure it out eventually.”
I was stunned, still working through this information as Billy stood, taking his glass with him. But I thought I caught him mutter as he left the library, “And so will you.”
12
“If everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
* * *
*Beau*
That no-good, sneaky, meddling usurper.
That’s what he was.
Cletus’s eyes cut to mine and I gave him a small smile, masking the daggers I’d been tossing his way just a second prior. He glared at me from across the garage, his stare narrowing like he was suspicious.
He’d always been this way. Always. Doing sneaky shit, lying by omission, thinking he knew what was best for everybody. In truth, he was just messing things up and being a pain in the ass.
But this time . . . this time he’d seriously pissed me off.
Monday and Tuesday brought more of the same, specifically, Shelly’s persnickety attitude. But now I was distracted. As such, when she snapped at me or complained, I let her have her way without a word.
My sights were set on Cletus. I wasn’t going to ask him what the hell he was playing at. He never gave a straight answer to a straight question. I was going to have to trick him somehow, force him to show his hand.
And then, when he does, Shelly and I will . . . well, I reckoned I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.
He knew I wouldn’t make a move on Shelly if he declared his interest first. He knew that. So, what was his game? Why say he had intentions for Shelly if he actually had intentions for Jennifer Sylvester? That was the part I didn’t understand because—though he was sneaky—this kind of behavior wasn’t like him. Not unless he was trying to push my buttons or he was lying to Billy for some other nefarious purpose.
I didn’t believe for one minute he was wrecked over Jenn Sylvester, at least not the way Billy meant. Cletus wasn’t the head-over-heels sort, not like Ashley, or Duane, or Jethro.
I hadn’t figured out yet how to force the issue, but I was considering driving my ass down to the Donner Bakery—that’s where Jennifer worked—and asking her out on a date.
Turns out, I didn’t need to.
Standing at the basin sink, scrubbing the grease from my fingernails, I glanced out the front of the garage and spotted Jennifer Sylvester’s BMW pulling into the lot. A disbelieving laugh burst from my chest and I shut off the water, keeping my eyes on her car while she parked.
Unzipping my coveralls, I strolled toward her car and tied the sleeves around my waist. I stopped at her bumper, waiting for her to exit, and I couldn’t remember a time I was so happy to see another person. For all intents and purposes, in that moment, Jennifer Sylvester was my favorite person on Earth. She got a big ol’ smile.
“Hey Jenn. Something wrong with your car?” I noticed several things about her at once: she was dressed differently than usual, more relaxed; she was holding a plate in front of her like it would protect her; and she looked nervous.
“Hiya, Beau.” She paused to clear her throat. “No. Nothing wrong with the car. I was just driving by and thought I’d stop in and bring y’all some muffins.”
“What’d you bring?”
“Um, something new I’m trying out. They’re blueberry pancake muffins.”
Of course. Of course she did.
I chuckled, shaking my head. “They’re for Cletus, right?”
Anything blueberry was Cletus’s favorite. He’d almost had a heart attack last year when there was a blueberry shortage at the Piggly Wiggly, expecting us all to live-Tweet our grocery shopping.
“No, no. They’re for all of you.”
Her response was unexpected, so I examined her closely as I said, “Blueberry pancakes are his favorite.”
“Are they?” She looked genuinely surprised, and maybe a little happy.
“You didn’t know that?”
“No. I had no idea.”
“Huh. Well.” Inspecting her again, I didn’t know w
hat to think of this development. But there was no reason to keep her hostage in the parking lot. I turned and waved her forward. “Come on in. I’m just finishing up. I can make some coffee and we’ll hang out for bit.”
“Oh, that sounds nice.” Again, she sounded pleasantly surprised and that gave me pause.
I didn’t know much about Jennifer Sylvester. She was some years younger than me, about Roscoe’s age, and never seemed to do anything other than bake. Her momma and daddy were extremely strict, and she always appeared a little embarrassed and a little confused in public.
Aside from all that, she seemed like a nice enough person. When she’d shown up unexpectedly at our house a few weeks ago on the anniversary of our momma’s death bearing gifts of food, I hadn’t given her arrival much thought. Momma had befriended a lot of people over the course of her life. I just figured Jennifer had been one of them.
I wasn’t going to ask her on a date. Nor was I going to mislead her, per se. However, once we were in front of Cletus, I was going to unleash every flirt-weapon in my arsenal to get a reaction out of my brother. Then I’d have my answer.
“Wait ’til you try my coffee. I doubt it’ll do justice to your muffins.” Feeling a twinge of guilt, I glanced over my shoulder and slowed my steps so we could walk into the garage together.
“Don’t get your hopes up. They could taste like feet,” she said solemnly.
I barked a surprised laugh and studied her again, wondering how many more surprises I could expect from mousy Jenn Sylvester. “I seriously doubt that anything you made could—”
“What is the status of the Ford Expedition? Did you finish with the radiator?”
I stiffened, gritting my teeth as Shelly came into view. She was glaring at my companion, which wasn’t unusual. But I couldn’t afford her rudeness at the moment. Fate had dropped the woman baker on my doorstep and I wasn’t about to lose my chance to confront Cletus.
Adding a bit of steel to my tone, I hoped the warning in my glare was enough to keep Shelly from launching into one of her insulting outbursts. “Shelly. This is Jennifer Sylvester. You’ve probably heard of her banana cake. Jennifer . . .” I motioned rigidly to the woman mechanic, “this is Shelly Sullivan. She’s new to town and works here.”
Jenn reached out her hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you.”
No surprise, Shelly didn’t accept Jenn’s handshake. She crossed her arms and spoke through clenched teeth. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Jennifer lowered her hand slowly when Shelly’s snub became obvious. Just like with Mr. McClure, I couldn’t help feeling frustrated and angry with her. Why she was determined to treat nice people badly? I didn’t understand.
“Don’t take it personally.” I touched Jenn’s arm, hoping the smile I gave her made up for Shelly’s lack of manners. But then I had to prepare myself, putting up my guard as I returned my eyes to my coworker. “She doesn’t shake anyone’s hand.”
The twinge of guilt returned, but this time because Shelly lowered her gaze to the floor of the garage. I noticed a pink flush spread up her neck and over her cheeks. I’d embarrassed her, or she was upset, and that didn’t settle well with me.
A pull to touch her, to apologize, arrested me. But then she returned her gaze to mine and her eyes were fire and ice.
Dammit.
This woman was going to be the death of me. How was it possible to both dislike and admire a person this much? To want—no, crave—so badly to be in her company and be rid of her at the same time?
I didn’t know how long we stood there, glaring at each other, but eventually Jenn’s tentative voice interrupted the staring contest.
“How are you settling in, Ms. Sullivan?”
Shelly’s eyes shifted to Jenn. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, uh, how are things? How’s your place? Do you need anything? Are your neighbors nice?”
Fire and brimstone was replaced with curiosity, and then contemplation. Her features softened.
Even though she wasn’t looking at me, my heart did the two-beat stutter, forcing me to hold my breath. I was so mesmerized by the change in her, I didn’t recognize that we’d been standing in silence for a good while until Jenn cleared her throat again and her eyes darted to me for help.
Finally, Shelly responded, “My house is adequate. I need potholders. I keep using towels and I’ve burned my hand three times. I haven’t met my neighbors, so I don’t know if they’re nice.”
Jenn grinned, taking a deep breath like she was relieved, and maybe a little pleased, by Shelly’s response.
For reasons I couldn’t immediately explain, her words both charmed and aggravated the tar out of me.
I had no idea she needed potholders. If she’d needed potholders, she should have said something. I didn’t want her burning her hands. The woman had beautiful hands, clever hands, strong hands, industrious hands. Nothing should ever happen to her hands. I made a mental note to bring her potholders.
And another thing, here we were, working together for weeks, and she’d volunteered more to Jennifer Sylvester in five minutes than she’d shared with me in a month.
And another thing, where the heck did she live?
And realizing how little of herself she’d been willing to share with me burned my oats. The woman steadfastly refused to be anything other than ornery.
Except that one time she wanted to have sex with you.
And another thing, I’d made an effort, hadn’t I? I’d wanted to know her better, be friendly. And what did she do? Snap at me all day and invade my dreams all night, tell me how she liked bread.
Bread.
That’s right, she literally gave me nothing but bread crumbs.
And one last thing, why was everyone seeing fit to piss me off these days?
Carried on this wave of discontent, I sniped, “Maybe you should make more of an effort,” before I could catch the unkind impulse.
Shelly started, gazing at me with what looked like surprise. In my peripheral vision, I didn’t miss how Jenn’s mouth fell open.
But I was too irritated to feel remorse. We—Shelly and I—were well beyond that. Or we should have been. Once this business with Cletus was settled, she and I were going to have a discussion.
Keeping my eyes on Shelly, I addressed Jenn, “I’ll go start that coffee.”
Not waiting for a response, I left for the garage office on the first floor, veering away from the door at the last minute so I could take a walk around the building. I needed to cool off.
I needed to be calm and collected. I needed all my wits if I was going to use this opportunity to outsmart my brother. So I took my walk around the building, and it was a good thing, too. As I came around the corner several minutes later, completing my second loop, I spotted Jennifer Sylvester speed-walking toward her car, visibly upset.
Concerned, I jogged to catch her, reaching for her arm.
I must’ve startled her because she gasped, her hands lifting to clutch her chest.
I let her go. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No.” She breathed a weak laugh. “No, it’s fine. I just didn’t see you.”
Dammit. I shouldn’t have left her with Shelly.
“Did Shelly say something? To make you leave?”
“What? No! Not at all. She’s great.”
Really? “Really?”
This was officially the Tuesday of surprises.
Jenn opened her mouth to respond but then snapped it shut, her eyes widening at something over my shoulder. I twisted at the waist and had to do a double take. Cletus was holding Jenn’s plate of muffins and power-walking right toward us.
He didn’t seem to notice me at all. No, his eyes zeroed in on the small woman at my side. Jenn took a step back, like she planned on fleeing.
“Just stop right there,” Cletus hollered, his expression thunderous.
Watching with rapt fascination, I stood dumbly as he moved narrowed eyes over Jenn, then me, then
Jenn again.
Shoving the plate of baked goods at my chest, he continued glaring at Jenn, saying, “Beau, take these to the front and close up. We’ll join you in a moment.”
I didn’t move, allowing myself a moment to study him, the situation, the body language, and the sparks of fearful pride these two were shooting at each other.
And I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Billy had been right.
I’d never seen Cletus look at a woman like he looked at Jennifer Sylvester. She was the only person in his world. He didn’t know whether to kiss her silly now, or throw her over his shoulder, toss her in his back seat, and kiss her silly there.
Cletus was wrecked. Really and truly wrecked. Twisted in knots, going out of his mind, fallen too far, over the moon crazy gone for this woman. Furthermore, and just as obvious, Cletus had absolutely no idea that Jennifer Sylvester had wrecked him.
“Sure thing,” I mumbled, my mind in chaos as I walked to the office.
What the hell was I supposed to do now? Cletus had it bad for Jenn, but he had no idea he had it bad for Jenn. Which meant he hadn’t been lying to me or pushing my buttons; he still planned to court Shelly.
The idiot.
Of all the stupid messes.
Setting the muffins on the countertop, I started the coffee and considered the best course of action. Talking to Cletus about his intentions would get me nowhere. He was stubborn and never admitted when he was wrong.
The only thing I could do was stick to the original plan. I would flirt with Jenn, shamelessly, hoping a little jealousy would go a long way and force him to see what was staring him in the face.
The time had come for me to meddle in Cletus Winston’s life.
* * *
“Y’all need to learn how to share,” Jenn said, referring to her muffins.
“Sharing is overrated,” Cletus quipped, staring at her like she was a plate of blueberry pancakes.
The big dumb idiot.
“I agree,” I said cheerfully, hiding my smirk. “Who wants coffee?”
Everything was going more or less as I’d intended. Jenn and Cletus had returned and we were preparing to eat the muffins in the downstairs office.