her? She stared at her reflection in the rear vision mirror, running a hand through her tangled greying curls standing on end, poking at the road map of lines crisscrossing her eyes.
Yeah, you’re a real catch, Flo Patterson. Better let young Sierra and her computer work its magic on you .
Cackling loudly, she started the engine, revved it and reversed out of the driveway at breakneck speed. If there were two things she did well in life, it was wait tables and drive. She might be no oil painting but she had life skills. Perhaps all she needed was to find a mechanic with a hankering for some good old-fashioned servin’ and she’d be right.
As she reached the end of the drive she checked over her shoulder and almost hit the accelerator rather than the brake.
“I’ll be blowed,” she said, as Liv Fairley’s handsome son left Sierra’s house, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink all night.
In all the years she’d lived next to the Kent’s, first Dolores and now her daughter Sierra grown up, she’d never seen a bloke spend the night. Or if they had she’d never seen them sauntering out the front door and down the garden path as if they owned the place.
At first she’d thought Sierra might be gay but if the rumor mills were correct, and they had to be for Essie had those foil thingies put in her hair at Rosa’s and the hairdresser knew everything about everybody in Love, Sierra had been seen leaving the Love Inn one morning hand in hand with a computer guy from the big smoke.
Having a meaningless fling was one thing, but inviting the guy back to her house? Could only mean Sierra liked this one.
Flo watched Liv’s son—what was his name? Matt? Mason? Marc, that was it—get into his fancy-shmancy car and drive away.
Ignoring her nicotine craving, Flo reversed into the street with a squeal of burning rubber and headed in the opposite direction from the Amor Corner Store.
She hadn’t seen Hank and Liv in a few days and it was definitely time for a visit.
Sierra rapped twice on Belle’s door, wondering what was keeping her. Belle would usually wait on her front porch, eager to get to the market and scout the best bargains before the Saturday morning crowd arrived.
Ripley pawed the screen and barked twice for good measure.
“Clever boy.”
She scratched behind the hound’s ears and received a sloppy slurp on the hand for her trouble. Though her faithful companion had been none too clever this morning when he’d been slobbering over Marc. Ripley usually hated strangers, particularly men, yet he’d taken to City Boy with a swiftness that staggered her.
Her mom always said kids and animals took an instant liking to those they trust but in this case Ripley’s astute judgment had gone haywire. Either that or the guy had hidden a steak in his pocket. Maybe he subscribed to Horse and Hounds—yeah, right—and had read the old adage “charm the dog, charm its owner.”
Not that she needed Ripley’s vote of confidence. If Marc had charmed the pants off her last night she wouldn’t have put up much of a fight.
As for trusting him, Marc Fairley was good to look at, fun to spar with, but trust the man? She’d sooner trust one of Hank’s low-bellied grass snakes than the guy who could undermine her with a single glance.
“Hey you.” Belle opened the front door with a sly grin. “This is a surprise.”
“Are you nuts? I’m on your doorstep this time every Saturday.”
“But this isn’t any old Saturday, is it?” Belle smirked, infuriatingly smug. “Thought you’d be too exhausted after all that nocturnal activity to want to spend a morning at the market with little ol’ me.”
“Nothing happened.”
Sierra shouldn’t feel so flat saying it. As much as she’d connected with City Boy, and for all the pre-date hype including the impulsive de-forestation down below, she’d chickened out when it came to the crunch.
As much as she fancied Marc she knew sleeping with him would’ve been
Yeah, you’re a real catch, Flo Patterson. Better let young Sierra and her computer work its magic on you .
Cackling loudly, she started the engine, revved it and reversed out of the driveway at breakneck speed. If there were two things she did well in life, it was wait tables and drive. She might be no oil painting but she had life skills. Perhaps all she needed was to find a mechanic with a hankering for some good old-fashioned servin’ and she’d be right.
As she reached the end of the drive she checked over her shoulder and almost hit the accelerator rather than the brake.
“I’ll be blowed,” she said, as Liv Fairley’s handsome son left Sierra’s house, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink all night.
In all the years she’d lived next to the Kent’s, first Dolores and now her daughter Sierra grown up, she’d never seen a bloke spend the night. Or if they had she’d never seen them sauntering out the front door and down the garden path as if they owned the place.
At first she’d thought Sierra might be gay but if the rumor mills were correct, and they had to be for Essie had those foil thingies put in her hair at Rosa’s and the hairdresser knew everything about everybody in Love, Sierra had been seen leaving the Love Inn one morning hand in hand with a computer guy from the big smoke.
Having a meaningless fling was one thing, but inviting the guy back to her house? Could only mean Sierra liked this one.
Flo watched Liv’s son—what was his name? Matt? Mason? Marc, that was it—get into his fancy-shmancy car and drive away.
Ignoring her nicotine craving, Flo reversed into the street with a squeal of burning rubber and headed in the opposite direction from the Amor Corner Store.
She hadn’t seen Hank and Liv in a few days and it was definitely time for a visit.
Sierra rapped twice on Belle’s door, wondering what was keeping her. Belle would usually wait on her front porch, eager to get to the market and scout the best bargains before the Saturday morning crowd arrived.
Ripley pawed the screen and barked twice for good measure.
“Clever boy.”
She scratched behind the hound’s ears and received a sloppy slurp on the hand for her trouble. Though her faithful companion had been none too clever this morning when he’d been slobbering over Marc. Ripley usually hated strangers, particularly men, yet he’d taken to City Boy with a swiftness that staggered her.
Her mom always said kids and animals took an instant liking to those they trust but in this case Ripley’s astute judgment had gone haywire. Either that or the guy had hidden a steak in his pocket. Maybe he subscribed to Horse and Hounds—yeah, right—and had read the old adage “charm the dog, charm its owner.”
Not that she needed Ripley’s vote of confidence. If Marc had charmed the pants off her last night she wouldn’t have put up much of a fight.
As for trusting him, Marc Fairley was good to look at, fun to spar with, but trust the man? She’d sooner trust one of Hank’s low-bellied grass snakes than the guy who could undermine her with a single glance.
“Hey you.” Belle opened the front door with a sly grin. “This is a surprise.”
“Are you nuts? I’m on your doorstep this time every Saturday.”
“But this isn’t any old Saturday, is it?” Belle smirked, infuriatingly smug. “Thought you’d be too exhausted after all that nocturnal activity to want to spend a morning at the market with little ol’ me.”
“Nothing happened.”
Sierra shouldn’t feel so flat saying it. As much as she’d connected with City Boy, and for all the pre-date hype including the impulsive de-forestation down below, she’d chickened out when it came to the crunch.
As much as she fancied Marc she knew sleeping with him would’ve been
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