Read Online Live and Let Love by Gina Robinson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Gina Robinson
Tags: Agent Ex#3
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mahogany-brown slacks
rolled to the ankles, secured with a black-and-white-patterned belt, supple leather
black shoes, sans socks, he looked very much in his prime. And way too sophisticated
and city slick for Orchard Bluff. The opposite of the way Jack dressed. He wouldn’t
have been caught dead in such a totally metro outfit. But somehow, on Con, it worked.
A large digital timer was counting down the final minutes until eight. With two minutes
to go, Lettie went to the podium at the head of the room, banged a gavel, grabbed
a cordless mic, and called the room to order. “All right, citizens of Orchard Bluff,
the hour of reckoning is almost upon us. Bob White, this is payback for that diabolical
bench-building challenge last year.” She pointed over her back.
Behind her stood a large whiteboard with a tally of the votes. Bob White was in first
place, Shane in second, two other local men in places three and four, and Con was
in fifth by just five votes.
“Bob, I see the good ladies have made sure you’re going to be dancing,” Lettie said.
The crowd laughed.
Willow hoped her stash of vote tickets, and a perfectly timed casting of them, would
ensure Con danced. He stood just a few feet away from her, rummaging through his pockets.
She had a hard time not staring at him. He was so easy on the eyes.
Lettie led the crowd in a countdown. “Ten, nine—”
“Wait!” Con dashed to the podium, waving a bill around.
“A man who likes to flash his cash for charity.” Lettie clapped. “Stop the timer.
What can I do for you, Con?”
“Ten bucks says I’m out.” Con held it out to Lettie with a big grin on his face.
Lettie leaned across the podium with a big grin. “More money for charity! Oh, but
this is bad, very bad, for Clint. This puts him in fifth place. Clint, where are you?
Start digging in your pockets for the animal shelter or you’ll be dancing.”
“Not so fast!” Willow’s heart raced as she seized her opportunity and stepped forward.
“Twenty dollars for the animal shelter and twenty-four votes for Con.”
The stunned look on Con’s face was worth every penny. As if she were a traitor. And
yet he was amused at the same time. The curl of his good-natured grin almost stopped
her heart—it was so strikingly like Jack’s.
“Clint, you owe Willow one for this, you old codger. I expect to see you in her shop
buying a pound of candy for your wife.” Lettie banged the gavel. “Start the timer.
Five, four, three, two, one!”
The buzzer sounded. The crowd cheered.
“Zero!” Lettie turned to Con. “We’re good sports. And we play fair, especially when
we’re trying to raise as much money as possible for a good cause. Before I pronounce
your sentence, do you have any more money you’d like to donate to get out of dancing?”
Con pulled his pockets inside out and shook his head, hamming it up shamelessly. “Hey,
Aldo, help me out? Lend me a few?”
“I’ll throw in another twenty.” Aldo grinned.
Con relaxed and did a victory punch in the air. “Yes! Family.”
Aldo waved a bill around. “To make sure he dances.”
Con stopped in his tracks and his face fell. The crowd roared.
“Anyone else have an opinion they’d like to throw some cash at?” Lettie looked around
the group of growers.
“Ten for keeping him in!” someone else called out.
“I’ll go five!”
“I have twenty tickets that say he’s dancing,” Sheryl the mail carrier said. “And
I want to see a tush push!”
Con made a comical shocked face and slapped his hands on his butt as if he was tucking
it in and keeping it firmly in place. “A what?”
Bob White came up, slapped Con on the back, and stuck his butt out. “It’s a country
line dance move, city boy.”
“That is not what I’m talking about!” Sheryl called back. “Pull that big old butt in, Bob. Don’t
listen to him, Con. Nora will show you how it’s done.”
Lettie banged her
rolled to the ankles, secured with a black-and-white-patterned belt, supple leather
black shoes, sans socks, he looked very much in his prime. And way too sophisticated
and city slick for Orchard Bluff. The opposite of the way Jack dressed. He wouldn’t
have been caught dead in such a totally metro outfit. But somehow, on Con, it worked.
A large digital timer was counting down the final minutes until eight. With two minutes
to go, Lettie went to the podium at the head of the room, banged a gavel, grabbed
a cordless mic, and called the room to order. “All right, citizens of Orchard Bluff,
the hour of reckoning is almost upon us. Bob White, this is payback for that diabolical
bench-building challenge last year.” She pointed over her back.
Behind her stood a large whiteboard with a tally of the votes. Bob White was in first
place, Shane in second, two other local men in places three and four, and Con was
in fifth by just five votes.
“Bob, I see the good ladies have made sure you’re going to be dancing,” Lettie said.
The crowd laughed.
Willow hoped her stash of vote tickets, and a perfectly timed casting of them, would
ensure Con danced. He stood just a few feet away from her, rummaging through his pockets.
She had a hard time not staring at him. He was so easy on the eyes.
Lettie led the crowd in a countdown. “Ten, nine—”
“Wait!” Con dashed to the podium, waving a bill around.
“A man who likes to flash his cash for charity.” Lettie clapped. “Stop the timer.
What can I do for you, Con?”
“Ten bucks says I’m out.” Con held it out to Lettie with a big grin on his face.
Lettie leaned across the podium with a big grin. “More money for charity! Oh, but
this is bad, very bad, for Clint. This puts him in fifth place. Clint, where are you?
Start digging in your pockets for the animal shelter or you’ll be dancing.”
“Not so fast!” Willow’s heart raced as she seized her opportunity and stepped forward.
“Twenty dollars for the animal shelter and twenty-four votes for Con.”
The stunned look on Con’s face was worth every penny. As if she were a traitor. And
yet he was amused at the same time. The curl of his good-natured grin almost stopped
her heart—it was so strikingly like Jack’s.
“Clint, you owe Willow one for this, you old codger. I expect to see you in her shop
buying a pound of candy for your wife.” Lettie banged the gavel. “Start the timer.
Five, four, three, two, one!”
The buzzer sounded. The crowd cheered.
“Zero!” Lettie turned to Con. “We’re good sports. And we play fair, especially when
we’re trying to raise as much money as possible for a good cause. Before I pronounce
your sentence, do you have any more money you’d like to donate to get out of dancing?”
Con pulled his pockets inside out and shook his head, hamming it up shamelessly. “Hey,
Aldo, help me out? Lend me a few?”
“I’ll throw in another twenty.” Aldo grinned.
Con relaxed and did a victory punch in the air. “Yes! Family.”
Aldo waved a bill around. “To make sure he dances.”
Con stopped in his tracks and his face fell. The crowd roared.
“Anyone else have an opinion they’d like to throw some cash at?” Lettie looked around
the group of growers.
“Ten for keeping him in!” someone else called out.
“I’ll go five!”
“I have twenty tickets that say he’s dancing,” Sheryl the mail carrier said. “And
I want to see a tush push!”
Con made a comical shocked face and slapped his hands on his butt as if he was tucking
it in and keeping it firmly in place. “A what?”
Bob White came up, slapped Con on the back, and stuck his butt out. “It’s a country
line dance move, city boy.”
“That is not what I’m talking about!” Sheryl called back. “Pull that big old butt in, Bob. Don’t
listen to him, Con. Nora will show you how it’s done.”
Lettie banged her
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