Trouble When You Walked In (Contemporary Romance) Page 14

  Hank Davis picked up all the pencils in Cissie’s pencil cup and put them back in, sharpened points up.

  “That means yes,” said Sally.

  Cissie let the pencils be. “Okay. I’ll try to look nicer for the interview. Although why I should—”

  The library door opened, and in came Laurie. “She ready, Sally?”

  “Just about.”

  “What are you talking about?” Cissie had a bad feeling.

  “I’m taking you shopping,” said Laurie, “at the new outlet outside Asheville. They have a free personal shopper if you spend over five hundred dollars.”

  “I can’t do that!”

  “Sure you can.” Laurie flashed a shiny gold credit card.

  “And then you’re going to the beauty parlor,” said Sally.

  “I can’t do that, either.” Cissie balked. “I have a library to run.”

  “And I had an entire high school front office to run.” Laurie folded one arm over the other. “Am I there right now?”

  Cissie was touched and annoyed, all at the same time. “You didn’t take off because of me.… Did you?”

  “Hell, yes, she did,” said Sally. “We got it covered. Me and Hank Davis is gonna run the library while Laurie gets you all sexed up.”

  “Sexed up?” Cissie was petrified at the thought. “That would be entirely inappropriate.”

  “I know.” Laurie grinned. “And I love it. You and Boone are going to be interviewed at the same time.”

  “I can’t wait.” Sally did her Worm Dance. Hank Davis joined in.

  “You never told me you danced with Boone at the sit-in,” Laurie chided Cissie.

  “It wasn’t as if I wanted to,” Cissie said. “He grabbed me by the hand and pulled me out the door.”

  Sally kept dancing, but she and Laurie exchanged knowing looks.

  “Iron Man,” said Hank Davis in the middle of a gyration.

  “Don’t you turn on me, too, Hank Davis.” Cissie felt her face turn scarlet.

  “She likes Boone,” said Sally to Laurie.

  “Who wouldn’t?” Laurie put her hand on her hip and looked Cissie up and down. “And now you’re living with him. And doing his laundry.”

  Sally finally stopped dancing. She clapped her hands, bent over at the waist, and laughed so loud, it hurt Cissie’s ears. Laurie giggled, too. Hank Davis leaned down and looked at his mother’s face.

  “I know.” Sally waved a hand at him and kept laughing. “I’m gonna stop.”

  Cissie was about to complain when Sally finally stood up straight. “Hank Davis, put your hands over your ears.”

  He did as he was told.

  “If you can’t say it in front of him, don’t say it at all,” said Cissie.

  “Okay, then.” Sally pulled Hank Davis’s hands down. “I won’t say it.”

  But then she and Laurie sent Cissie very knowing looks.

  She turned redder than ever. “I only kept it secret so people wouldn’t look at me the way you are now.”

  “Honey,” said Laurie, “as soon as you left Starla’s, it spread around Kettle Knob like wildfire that you and Boone are living in the same house. Everyone thought you were staying with the Hattleburys. They swore up and down you were.”

  “Because Nana and I asked them to.” Cissie refrained from rolling her eyes.

  “I heard it from Hank Davis,” said Sally.

  Hank Davis stood tall and silent, like a totem pole.

  “I left school before Boone got back for football practice,” Laurie said. “But I heard he was acting like it was no big deal.”

  “Because it is no big deal.” Cissie collapsed in the chair again. “Our tree fell through our roof.”

  “You could have stayed with me,” Laurie said.

  “You’ve got the boys.”

  “That’s true. You’d be on Xanax by now if you stayed with us.”

  “How about me and Hank Davis?” Sally asked.

  “I love y’all, too, but—”

  “But we live in a garden shed,” said Sally. “The prettiest one you ever did see. I’m into the small house movement. You ever heard of that? Only cool people do it.”

  “Yes, but it would have been me, and Nana, and Dexter—”

  “It’s okay, sweet Cissie.” Sally came over and ran her palm over Cissie’s hair. “This is a good thing, you and Boone doing the hokey pokey.”

  “We are not doing the hokey pokey,” Cissie whispered. Luckily, Hank Davis didn’t appear to get what they were saying. “Boone’s my political opponent.”

  Laurie crouched down by Cissie. “You’re not yourself. Something is going on. Am I right?”

  “You’re right.” Sally kept stroking Cissie’s hair. “Hank Davis, go get me my purse. It’s got a peppermint in it. I left it in the car. You eat that peppermint. And if anyone tries to come in the library, you shout, ‘Boo!’ I’ll tell you when you can come back.”

  “No,” said Cissie. “We can’t do that to our library patrons.”

  “You do as I say, Hank Davis!” Sally was firm. “You say, ‘Boo!’ and scare them away.”

  Hank Davis walked out the front door of the library.

  Sally looked at Cissie. “‘Boo!’ ain’t gonna hurt nobody. We all like ‘Boo!’ It adds excitement to our day.”

  Laurie took Cissie’s hand. “Come on, darlin’. What’s up?”

  “Okay.” Cissie inhaled, then exhaled. “I’ll tell you. But you have to keep it a secret. Because it doesn’t mean anything.”

  She told them both about her first night at Boone’s house, about how forward she’d been and how amazing he’d been in response, and as she did, she realized it did mean something: her crush on him was stronger than it had ever been.

  It was so stupid.

  But he was such a great kisser.

  And more.

  It was that and more part that she kept lingering on, although she could spend all night daydreaming about how he kissed.

  “Even his knees are special,” Cissie confessed.

  “His knees?” asked Sally.

  “Oh, yeah.” Laurie nodded knowingly. “I remember those knees from high school.”

  She did?

  “You are one lucky woman,” Laurie added.

  “He’s the lucky one.” Sally kept stroking Cissie’s hair. “When’s it gonna happen next?”

  “Never.” After this library situation was over, if Cissie lost the race, she really needed to move—someplace where she didn’t cling to schoolgirl fantasies about hooking up with the quarterback. She needed a life. Somewhere out there was a perfectly average-looking guy with a big brain who would be crazy about her. She just knew it.

  But she wasn’t excited about it.

  Laurie stood up. “Let’s get going. We have no time to waste. Your eyebrows are in sore need of trimming. Boone doesn’t like bushy eyebrows.”

  “I don’t care what he likes,” said Cissie.

  “It’s time to be the honey. Boone’s the bee.” Sally tugged on Cissie’s hand.

  “No,” Cissie said. “I’m the bee, and I’m going to sting him for trying to move the library. I’ll go get made up for the TV show if that will win me some votes, but I won’t do it for Boone. Everybody, out of my way.”

  She grabbed her purse from the front desk. Laurie came trotting after her. Cissie didn’t even bother to look back to see what Sally was doing.

  On the sidewalk, Hank Davis yelled, “Boo!” as she walked by.

  But she didn’t even flinch.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  When Boone got home, he could feel Cissie in the house. He wished he couldn’t because he needed to focus. He went straight to his study, shut the door, and called Ella. An hour later, they’d accomplished what they’d set out to do—to get through a big document from the county they hadn’t had time to cover that morning when he’d gone to her house.

  When he hung up, he tried to think of an excuse to go upstairs, but he’d made that floor so se
lf-sufficient, there was nothing his guests really needed.

  Besides, he still had tons of schoolwork to do. He needed to eat something easy and catch up on entering some student test grades in the online system the school used. He zapped a quick frozen dinner in the microwave, ate it quickly, and was on his way to his study again when Cissie and Nana came downstairs and caught him in the hallway.

  At least, he thought it was Cissie.

  Her hair was different.

  Way different. It had golden-brown highlights that shone in the glow from the amber wall sconce like silken threads in a tapestry. And she looked like she’d just had a satisfying roll in the hay. He could see that the effect came from someone chopping her hair into different lengths around her face—it was wispy and kind of messy. But it was also curled on the ends, as if she’d decided she was also a demure lady.

  She wore jeans and an old mustard yellow barn coat, and she’d never looked prettier.

  “How are you two ladies?” he asked.

  “Stupendous,” Nana said.

  “Pretty good.” Cissie didn’t look quite at him.

  He wondered if she was embarrassed about her hair. Or maybe it was the scene she’d caused in the diner with that bug. Or their knees touching …

  “Your hair looks nice.” He thought it looked fantastic. But he didn’t want to overdo it.

  “Thanks.” She sent him a tiny smile, and shoved up her glasses.

  Her glasses!

  They no longer had invisible frames. They were narrow tortoiseshell, geek-chic modern, straight out of a women’s high-end fashion magazine. He wouldn’t compliment her on them, though. If he overdid it, she’d think she looked bad before, and she never had. Even at her most buttoned up, she was someone he should have noticed long ago.

  “I’ll buy you a new pair of khakis if the cleaners can’t get the stains out,” Cissie insisted, those blue eyes earnest with regret.

  “No need.” He’d refused to let her launder his pants, and there was no way he could get them clean. “I have a lot of pants in my closet. Besides, you’re not the one who screamed and knocked over the coffee and pie.”

  “Goodness, all over a silly bug,” said Nana.

  None of them had had a chance to discuss the situation the night before, maybe because Cissie had clearly hidden herself away upstairs and Nana had been at rehearsal.

  “It came from outside and got stuck on her hair,” Cissie explained, “but it was in the restaurant, which is reason enough to be … squeamish.”

  He knew she really meant hysterical and out of control. It was nice of her to let the mayor of Campbell off the hook. “I wondered why you were being so friendly to Janelle. You two aren’t exactly pals.”

  “Well, she should be Cissie’s pal now,” Nana said. “I would have let the bug stay.”

  Cissie’s purse was slung over her shoulder, so the two women were obviously headed out. Boone felt a little bereft at the idea of being alone in the house, although he knew he should get back to work. “Where are you off to?” he asked anyway.

  “We have to take more pictures of the house for the insurance people before the sun goes down,” said Nana. “They just texted Cissie. They want to see more before they give final approval to the contractor tomorrow morning.”

  Boone had been superbusy the last couple days, but he’d checked on the site on his own the morning after the tree fell, when the roofers had covered the house with tarps and the tree cutter had started working. The insurance company had hired the most reputable guys right away.

  “Today I had to show them documentation that we got the tree pruned regularly,” Cissie said, “and that no arborist had ever suggested it would fall.”

  The insurance company had better not give these ladies grief.

  “Can I come with you?” Boone’s school chores would have to wait, but he consoled himself that he was giving moral support to two people who might need it.

  “I’d love it if you took my place,” Nana said, looking suddenly older and weary. She was a good actress, but Boone was no dummy. “Tonight’s my only night off from the theater until the weekend.”

  “You don’t have to go with me,” Cissie told him. “I can manage.”

  “It’ll go quicker with two people taking pictures,” he said. “We’re running out of time. We can take my fun truck.”

  His ’65 Chevy, cobalt blue with shiny chrome bumpers.

  Cissie had no choice but to say yes, unless she wanted to be extremely rude, which he knew she would never be. She hugged Nana, and they were off.

  They weren’t going on a date, but when they walked down the front steps of his house together, Boone felt a different vibe between them.

  “I’ve seen you in this truck around town,” she said at the shed. “I’ve always wanted a ride in it.”

  “Oh, yeah?” When he opened the door for her, he couldn’t believe she’d been living below him on the mountain for years and they’d never connected, not even to wave to each other when he was driving.

  The truck rode smoothly down the steep road. He kept his gaze ahead—you really had to when one little mistake meant you’d go off the edge of a cliff—but he was very aware of her. She smelled like honeysuckle and warm cotton.

  There was some tension in the air, definitely, and for a lot of reasons. But he’d do his best to put her at ease. “So are your parents really leaving it up to you and Nana to take care of everything?”

  He turned into the Rogerses’ property. It was fronted by nothing more than a beat-up black mailbox. The truck swayed and bounced down their dirt driveway.

  “They’re very laid back,” Cissie said.

  He stole a glance at her now that it was safe to do so. “They must be. They sound a lot different from my parents.”

  The house came into view—it pained him to see the remnants of that beautiful old tree cut up into pieces and stacked for hauling away. The front porch and kitchen were nothing but matchsticks and broken windows.

  “It’s so sad,” she said.

  Her profile was beautiful, he thought, as he put the truck into park. They looked at the scene for a good ten seconds without speaking.

  “All the stories told on that porch,” Cissie whispered. “All the living done in that kitchen.”

  “You’ll rebuild. And you’ll be happy with it.” He got out, walked around the truck, and opened her door.

  “Thanks.” She slid out.

  “I wish I could fix this for you right now.”

  Her smile was a little wobbly. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

  “Why don’t we each take pictures, and then we’ll compare them when we get home?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Home. He liked thinking of her going back there with him.

  What was wrong with him? He was getting soft. He really didn’t want someone to share his life with up close and personal—he was a public servant with some private issues, and he’d like to keep it that way.

  But for now, he enjoyed seeing this woman blossom right before his very eyes. She looked sexy and cute walking around with that camera in her hand.

  “Stop!” he called to her.

  She looked back, caught him poised with his camera, and grinned despite herself.

  He snapped the picture.

  “Not fair!” She laughed. “Stand still.”

  So he did. He was used to getting pictures taken for the paper with constituents—at the recent spate of church autumn festivals, he’d been besieged—and the Bugler often took photos of him on the sidelines of Kettle Knob Academy football games.

  Cissie snapped the picture and lowered her phone. “You should have been a menswear model. For Levi’s.”

  “Someone must have paid you to say that.”

  “Nope.” She sounded a little flirty, but then she turned away from him to take another picture of the house.

  He wanted to race up to her, grab her by the waist, turn her around, and kiss her. But of course, he couldn�
��t do that. He walked thoughtfully past the freshly cut wood and took pictures of the house instead. They only crossed paths once, and when they did, Cissie sighed and said, “This is torture, seeing everything up close.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he agreed.

  But he meant her. It was torture not pulling her close and kissing her.

  He took a bunch more pictures to dull the sexual ache. It didn’t work, especially when she came up to him and he could smell her shampoo or perfume or whatever it was that reminded him of lace and flowers and dainty girl stuff.

  “I think I’m ready to go,” she said.

  “Already?”

  “Sure. Didn’t you take a lot?” She got elbow to elbow with him to scroll through her pictures. “Mine are pretty good.”

  “Mine, too. But let’s go look at the sunset.” He didn’t dare grab her hand. He angled his head toward the front of her property, where the lawn disappeared into nothing but rock, a sparse couple of bushes, and empty space, below which were rolling mountains and a scarlet red sun dipping behind them and casting beams of light across the magical landscape.

  They walked to the promontory together.

  “Why,” she said, “would anyone live anywhere else but here?”

  “I don’t know.” He was quiet. “If something took me away, I’d always have to come back.”

  “Me, too.” She inhaled a deep breath and smiled up at him.

  There was no agenda there, just a connection between two small beings admiring a big, beautiful world.

  “Thanks for letting me join you.” It felt right and natural to reach for her hand.

  She grasped his fingers back. Squeezed. Let go a half second later. “We should get back. I have to watch Jeopardy! with Nana.” She shot him a shy-as-a-rabbit smile and walked away.

  Scurried, more like it.

  That made him smile, but still he lingered for another second or two. A magnificent tree and part of a homestead might be gone, but there was so much left here on Rogers land to cherish and protect—a view, a family history, two incredible women. No insurance company in the world could assess or cover their value.

  Boone’s legs were longer, so he beat Cissie back to the truck and had the door open and waiting.