by Rae Davies
Stopping her on the way to clock in, Ruthann asked, “How’d your interview go?”
“Fine.”
“Who’s it working for?” With a tissue she pulled out of her pocket, Ruthann rubbed her palm.
“It’s really more of an internship than a job.” Patsy squeezed by her friend to reach the time clock.
“Really? Not a job?” Ruthann tucked the tissue away. “You okay with that?”
She didn’t have to sound so chipper.
“Yeah, I’m fine. If they like my work, Glenn says he thinks there’s full-time potential.”
“Oh.” The tissue reappeared. “Who’s the company?”
Patsy hesitated. “Sunrise.”
“The mines?” The scrubbing stopped. “I hear they have good benefits.”
Of course. If Patsy would auction souls to get out of Daisy Creek, Ruthann would dance naked down Oak Street for full coverage dental.
“Would it be here?”
“What?” The time clock buzzed as Patsy slid her card in the slot.
“The job. Would it be around here or somewhere else?”
“The internship is here. I have to drive down to Sauk City too, but the job would be in St. Louis.”
Following her out of the break room, Ruthann said, “At least one of us is getting what we want, I guess.”
Patsy stopped. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
Patsy let her eyebrow arch northward.
“It’s Randy. He hasn’t called me yet.”
A man who didn’t call, alert the news.
“You were expecting him to?”
“Well, yeah. He didn’t say anything, but after Sunday I thought....”
“Thinking and men don’t mix. Men don’t think, and you shouldn’t think about them.” Patsy smiled at an elderly man stocking up on brown beans, hoped he had his hearing aid turned down.
Leaning in close, Ruthann stage-whispered, “Are you jealous?”
“What?”
“Jealous, of me and Randy. I didn’t say anything about me and him before today, ‘cause I know how everyone’s always figured the two of you would someday...”
Good Lord. “I am not jealous.” The octogenarian dropped his bag of beans. Patsy lowered her tone. “I’m not jealous.”
“Good, I hoped with the way you and Will were carrying on...”
“We were not carrying on.” The man gave them a disapproving look and pushed his cart toward canned goods.
“See, you’re getting all prickly. I knew I shouldn’t bring it up. Anybody brings up men or dating and you freak out.”
“I don’t freak out. You just read the situation wrong, and I’m correcting you.”
Their boss, Bruce, appeared at the end of the aisle. “Can I help you two with something? Like directions to the front?”
Shooting him an annoyed glance, Patsy tugged on her smock and clomped to the front. Ten minutes into her shift, and she already needed a break. The vending machine and its stash of pies were calling to her. Nothing like a healthy snack to take your mind off stress.
Five hours later, Bruce strutted up to Ruthann’s lane. “Lock your drawer. I need somebody to do a clean-up on aisle three. A kid chucked his Cheerios all over the place and Leroy’s at lunch.”
Ruthann punched her code into the register and reached under the counter. She popped back up with a dustpan and hand broom.
“Where are you going with that?” Bruce asked.
“To sweep up the Cheerios, or do I need the push broom?”
Bruce laughed. “Honey, you need a bucket. The kid puked. It’s all over the place. You might want to borrow a raincoat and some boots too.” Chuckling, he walked off.
A horrified expression swept over Ruthann’s face.
“You okay?” Patsy asked.
Her hands shaking, Ruthann replaced the broom and pan under the counter. “You know if Leroy has gloves somewhere?”
Damn Bruce. He knew Ruthann didn’t handle things like this well—okay, at all.
“Unlock your drawer,” Patsy ordered her friend.
“But Bruce said....”
“Screw Bruce, what’s he going to do, fire you? I’ll clean up the puke.” Patsy locked her drawer and went in search of vomit gear.
She was up to her elbows in fluids she didn’t want to analyze too thoroughly when two Dockers-clad feet stepped into her line of view.
“Lose a contact?” Will stared down at her, looking impossibly sexy in his dull khaki/polo uniform. Was it illegal to jump the mailman?
“Funny.” Patsy looked back at the Dockers. She didn’t realize anyone still wore those things. No socks either. Cute little hairs accented the lines formed by the bones of his feet. They were nice feet, sexy even. Damn, she was sick.
“Not to the contact, if it’s in there,” Will replied.
Wasn’t he just the laugh riot? Why was he here, anyway? He was supposed to be busy pushing refrigerators off his front porch or scrubbing tuna casserole out of old ladies’ dishes.
He crossed his arms over his chest, causing his pectoral muscles to flex. She didn’t need this.
Eager to be safely away from him, Patsy rushed through her task. She slopped up what remained of the mess with paper towels, and after shoving them into a trash bag, peeled off her rubber gloves and threw them in too. Will leaned against the Heinz shelf watching her. Why didn’t he leave?
Picking up a bottle of disinfectant, she turned to him. “You need some help?”
“Well, now, that’s your specialty, isn’t it?” He arched a brow.
Still mad about her helping him out a little. The man had issues. He should talk to somebody about that.
“That’s what they pay me for.” She turned the nozzle to “squirt” and rapid-fired spray across the floor. Bending down to wipe it up, she inhaled a lungful of fumes.
“You okay?” Will grasped her elbow, stopping her from tumbling onto the cold tile.
His fingers were warm, strong. A tingle ran up her arm. Maybe she was having a stroke, or a heart attack. Should she sit down?
With a concerned light in his eyes, he grabbed her other bicep and held her upright like a rag doll. “You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”
Maybe she could just rest her head for a minute. His chest was so close, so strong, so inviting. Patsy wobbled toward him, let her head drop.
“Patsy.” He gave her a little shake. “Are you okay?”
She snapped out of the fog. “Oh, um, I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night and then the spray….” With his hands still on her arms, she forgot what she was going to say.
“You should watch that stuff. Chemicals will kill you.”
That’s all he could think of? And besides, Mr. Internet Tycoon was an environmentalist? “I thought your dad worked for the mines?” she snapped out.
“He did. So?”
Wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, Patsy replied, “You just don’t think of the mines as being environmentally friendly, is all.”
“As far as I’m concerned, they’re not.” He dropped his hands from her arms.
“But your dad....”
“I’m not my dad.” The warm concern in his eyes was replaced with something cold and distant.
Feeling uncomfortable, Patsy threw some paper towels onto the floor and used her foot to mop up the spray. Will watched her, arms again crossed over his chest.
“Hell, let me.” He scooped up the towels and tossed them into the trash. “Don’t say I never helped you.”
“I won’t. I don’t mind a little help now and again.” As soon as the comment was out, Patsy wished she could suck it back in, wished she could go back in time before her comment about the mines too. Bring that warmth back to his eyes.
“Come here, you need to wash your hands.” Taking his hand, she pulled him into the break room. Her thumb brushed the sinews along the back of his hand. The contact felt strangely intimate. Suddenly on edge, she dropped his hand. �
��There.” She pointed to the sink. “I’ll be right back.”
Without looking back, she jogged out the back door and dumped the bag. Something was wrong. The way Will had been so concerned, how he’d helped her, it made her feel all woozy. Shy. This wasn’t good. It was one thing to admit the guy was good-looking, even mind-numbingly hot, but this soft stuff, this she didn’t need. She had to snap out of it. Get back in there. Surely, he’d do something arrogant and ass-like.
Determined to see the underside of his personality, Patsy trotted back to the break room. Will stood with his back to her, facing the vending machine. When he heard her enter, he turned. Cradled in his hands were two Hostess pies and a Pepsi.
“I thought you could use some sugar, being light-headed, I mean.”
Patsy stared at the green-and-white packages. Damn her luck.
Apparently misunderstanding her look, he explained, “I didn’t know what you’d like. There’s not a lot to choose from in there.” He gestured to the machine. “But at least these have some redeeming qualities. They have fruit.” The pie’s paper wrapping crinkled as he held out the bags. “You want them?”
Too numb to answer, Patsy nodded. With a grin, he set them on the table.
“When I was a kid, I loved these things. The pudding pies were my favorite, though. Do you remember those?” His smile made Patsy’s insides flip.
Averting her eyes, she tore into a pie.
“Remember the Ninja Turtle ones?” he asked.
Green glaze, gooey vanilla pudding inside—who could forget such ecstasy?
“I was a little old to watch the Turtles, but I loved those pies.” The sparkle in his eyes added a flop to the earlier flip.
“Thanks.” Patsy mumbled, around a mouthful of crust.
“No problem. Here, take the other one. I don’t eat that junk anymore.” With a reluctant shove, he pushed the second pie across the table. After popping the tab on the Pepsi, he sat it in front of her, too. “All those preservatives will kill you, but every now and then, I guess it’s okay.”
“Yeah, every now and then.” Patsy reached for the second bag.
“So, you feeling better?” The warmth was back.
Darn near perfect. Horrible. Where was the ass, the arrogant rich boy? “Much,” she replied.
Taking another bite, she felt a piece of apple stick to the corner of her lips. That must be attractive. Discreetly, she slid her tongue out and slipped the bit into her mouth. Will’s eyes seemed to zero in on her mouth.
Abruptly, he stood. “Well, I’ve got shopping to do.”
He must think she was an ill-mannered pig. With regret, she dropped the remainder of the pie into the trash, leaving a streak of filling on her palm. Without thinking, she put her hand to her mouth and licked.
Following her movement, Will’s eyes became as round as Oreos. “See you.” He turned on his heel and strode from the room.
That was rude. So her table manners left a little something to be desired. That didn’t mean he could just walk off and leave her standing here. That was ass-like, wasn’t it? Patsy tried to work up a good head of steam but failed miserably.
He bought her pie. What could be ass-like about that? Damn it all. She didn’t need this.
o0o
He didn’t need this. Standing in front of the dairy case, images of Patsy licking pie filling from her fingers, her tongue darting out of that full mouth, almost sent Will running back to the break room. And before that, when she’d swooned toward him, that was worse than the lust. Lust he could handle. But earlier, that was something more, something elemental, a need to protect her, to take care of her.
He had to get a grip. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, not even a date.
No, he was looking for soy milk. Where the hell was the soy milk? How could you run a grocery store without soy milk? Grabbing a bottle of something with a cow on it, he stomped to the front.
Chapter 6
Sitting on her parents’ front porch, Patsy examined a daisy she’d nabbed from her mother’s garden. Still looked simple from a distance, still stunk up close. She pinched a petal between her finger and thumb. “Take the job.” The white petal floated to the ground. “Don’t take the job.” Another drifted down to join it. “Take the...”
“What are you doing out here? Waiting on a guest?” Dwayne’s grin pushed Patsy from melancholy to annoyed. He tapped the yellow center of the flower. “If you want someone to love you, you’d be better off spending more time being friendly and less killing daisies.”
“And you’d be better off spending more time minding your own business and less bothering me.” Patsy tucked the flower into the dirt under a geranium. She didn’t want to talk about love. It was an overrated emotion.
“Hey, don’t take it out on me because you can’t get a man.”
“I’m not worried about getting a man,” she snapped, and she wasn’t. There wasn’t a man around she wanted “to get.” Liar, liar, a little voice inside her chanted.
“Pretty cocky, aren’t you?” Dwayne plopped down beside Patsy, stretching his legs out in front of him.
Exasperated, she rolled her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
She really needed to talk to someone, and Ruthann and Granny were out. Unlike them, Dwayne at least didn’t care if she left Daisy Creek. She needed to figure out why she wasn’t jumping for joy that Glenn had handed her a way out of her dead-end life. “I got a job offer,” she blurted.
“At the BiggeeMart? I didn’t even know you applied.” Dwayne pulled a piece of wood and a knife out of his pocket.
“Not at the BiggeeMart. A web job.” Why did everyone think the only thing she could do was scan peas?
“Oh.” An oaken curl fell off the block of wood Dwayne held in his hand.
“The thing is, I’m not sure I should take it. It’s just an internship, but it could lead to something bigger—a career, with a salary in St. Louis.”
“That what you want?”
“Sure it is. I’m tired of punching a time clock, and I want to see things. Things outside of Daisy Creek County.” She tried to keep her voice steady, confident, but she heard the hint of a shrill edge and wondered if Dwayne did too.
He ran the curved blade of his knife down the length of the wood and let another long curl drop onto the dirt before answering. “You sure you’re not just running away?”
“Running away? Of course I’m not running away.” Telling Dwayne was a mistake. He didn’t understand her at all.
“Just checking. You haven’t been the same since...”
Not wanting to hear what she knew was coming, Patsy cut him off. “I’m exactly the same—just stronger, more determined.”
“Then take the job.”
Patsy dug one finger into the dirt around the geranium, stroking the remains of the daisy. She voiced the only logical reason she could think of to turn the position down. “The thing is, the job, it’s for the mines.”
“So?”
“So, you know how they ruined Blackhaw.”
“Yeah, but I never heard you fuss about it before.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just never had a reason to throw a fuss.”
Running the knife along the surface of the wood, Dwayne chuckled.
“What?”
He looked at her. “Since when do you need a reason to throw a fuss? Besides, caring and fussing are the same thing to you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you got some problem with this job besides working for the mines.”
A problem besides the mines? No, she didn’t. Nothing else made sense.
“Would you go to work for them?” she asked.
“Quicker than spit. But that doesn’t mean nothing.” He leaned forward, forearms on knees. “You’re smart, Patsalee. Don’t run and hide from something that happened years ago. Take the job if it’s what you want, or turn it down. Either way, you got options, be happy about that. Me, I don’
t have as much up here.” He knocked on his Busch-cap-covered head a couple of times. “I gotta take what I can get.”
“What are you talking about? Aren’t you happy?”
“I’m always happy.” His grin was as big and goofy as ever, but Patsy wasn’t fooled.
“What’s going on?”
Sighing, he laid his knife to the side. “The uniform factory’s closing up soon. We don’t know how much longer we got, but it ain’t long. Cutting’s the only thing I ever learned to do. That and carving, but that don’t pay.”
He caressed the square of oak with his thumb. “Unless I want to move back in here with Mom and Dad, I gotta find something else, quick-like.” Flashing a carefree but unconvincing smile, he continued. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not weighted down with all them morals like you, huh?”
Patsy left him sitting on the step. She’d given his Red Wing boot a little kick after she stood up, resisting the strange urge to pull him into a hug like a three-year-old with a boo-boo. That would have just made them both uncomfortable. Better to act like the serious side of their conversation never happened. They had a balance to maintain, and hugs would set everything off kilter. Better to act like neither one cared.
His words hung about her though, dragging her down. If her obnoxiously happy-go-lucky brother was being sucked down by the realities of life in Daisy Creek, how could she hope to survive here? Maybe he was right about her issues with the mines, maybe there was more to her reluctance, but their talk left her even more resolved to escape the trap of life in rural Missouri. And he was wrong about one thing. She didn’t have any options either. Sunrise Mines offered her an opening, and if she let it close, she’d be stuck here just like Dwayne.
“Where’s your brother?” Patsy’s mother greeted her as she wandered down the hall to the kitchen.
Patsy took a moment to savor the smells of bacon, cornbread, and baked beans that filled the small room before replying. “He’s sitting on the step out front whittling.”
She picked at the fluted edge of an apple pie that rested on the glass-topped dining room table.
“Get your fingers out of there.” Granny snapped at her hand with a tea towel.
Popping a bite of crust into her mouth, Patsy grinned at her grandmother. While her grandmother frowned, a knock sounded at the front door.
