by Rae Davies
“Well, you have fun then, but if you need any help figuring out what’s what and how it fits together, you give me a holler.” Grinning, Tilde tromped out of the room.
If God was merciful, he would strike Patsy dead right now. Patsy waited, but as she suspected, she was still among the living and worse, Aunt Tilde and Will.
“Patsalee, get out here and see what I brought the boy.”
Patsy trudged out of the turret in time to see Will, his face redder than Tilde’s nails, wrestling a washstand in the front door.
With a groan, he set it down on the oak floor.
“So, what do you think?” Tilde beamed at them.
The thing was atrocious. Someone had covered it in at least four coats of pea-green paint. Stripes of chicken poop decorated the top and one door was missing. Maybe Patsy didn’t love old things as much as she had thought.
“Now that door is out in the van, and all the hardware is in the drawer.” Tilde tugged a small drawer open, revealing hinges and a knob inside. “And this top.” She knocked on the washstand. “Solid marble. I scratched off a bit of paint, and it’s black underneath. I was always partial to black marble. White is so common, don’t you think? Pink’s nice too, but you just don’t see much of that around here.”
Someone had painted marble. Could you even paint marble?
“So, what do you think?” Tilde stepped back and beamed at Will. “The old man what sold it said it came from the sale here back in the seventies.”
Will squatted down next to the dilapidated piece of furniture. “From here?”
“Yeah, this house. The last of the original family sold everything. If they could unscrew it or yank it out, it got a price tag slapped on it. I can probably help you find a lot of Barnett pieces, if you’re interested.”
“Like a picker?” Will looked up at Tilde.
“Sure, for say, twenty percent?”
Will hesitated for a minute, staring at the broken-down mess on his foyer floor. Looking back at Tilde, he said, “Sounds fair. What do I owe you for this? It’s a great piece.”
Good Lord, Aunt Tilde was going to work for Will. And he wanted the green-paint-covered, poop-encrusted washstand. How could he see anything worth keeping under all that?
Patsy sat on the bottom step, dumbfounded by the unlikely pair her aunt and Will made. She loved her aunt, but the woman was as tacky as a tube top at a wedding, and Will, he looked so cool and put together. Patsy guessed his shirt alone cost more than her aunt’s entire outfit, hair dye and makeup included.
“So, kid, you hanging around here?” Tilde folded the bills Will had handed her and was shoving them into her leopard print handbag. Thank God she didn’t shove them in her bra.
Ralph wandered into the room, Pugnacious on his tail. The pug trotted to the washstand and began sniffing the green base.
“I still haven’t given you the grand tour.” Will picked her dog up.
“Grand tour, hm?” Tilde’s eyes sparkled. “That sounds like something that needs preparing for, don’t you think, kid?”
Patsy leapt from the step and pulled Pugnacious from Will’s arms. “I better get going. Maybe some other time.”
“I’ll be calling you, kid. I got an idea where I can get that sideboard I told you about.” Tilde stepped onto the front porch. Patsy followed.
Will stopped in the doorway. “Wait, Patsy, there was still the....”
Oh yeah, the favor. Patsy paused.
“Save something for another day, kid. She saw your tower. That’s probably as much as she can handle in one visit.” Tilde cackled as she grabbed Patsy’s arm and led her to the Jeep.
o0o
Hell. Will rested his forehead against the closed door. What had happened in the turret?
Not enough, his libido yelled.
If Patsy’s aunt hadn’t rung the bell, what else might have happened?
Something dangerous. Something good.
He was walking in risky territory. He knew it, but couldn’t stop himself. No matter how much Patsy did to complicate his life, he found himself drawn to her. He’d lied about his reason for inviting her inside—both to her and himself. He didn’t seek her out for advice. He sought her out just to see her, be with her, touch her. And he couldn’t get enough of the touching part, wished she was still there, pressed against the leather wainscoting, arms and legs wrapped around him.
He smacked his head against the wood. This was getting him nowhere. He should keep away from Patsy. She was a definite threat to his plans.
Come to think of it, her entire family was, and now he was entangled with Tilde too. He was either a masochist or a complete idiot. He couldn’t decide which he preferred.
He walked to the washstand and flicked a piece of dried green paint off with his thumbnail. Maybe he was a bit of both.
Trying to forget Patsy, he focused on the project. It looked bad, but they made paint stripper. That should do the trick. Just pour it on and watch the green glop run off. Then he’d have a nice piece for his bedroom. He could do that.
A quick trip to BiggeeMart and he’d get to work, both on the washstand and on pushing thoughts of Patsy out of his brain. He walked to the kitchen to retrieve his keys. Seeing the empty peg by the back door, he remembered—no car.
Hell. He did need Patsy’s help with her father.
There was no way around it. He’d have to search her out.
o0o
It had been two days since the embarrassing scene with Aunt Tilde and Will. Patsy had kept busy working on the website for Sunrise. She enjoyed the process. It wasn’t as relaxing as constructing a basket, but it still allowed her to be creative. She concentrated on the overall look and function of the site and tried to ignore the content. Glenn e-mailed her text files of what Patsy couldn’t help but think of as propaganda. She read as little of them as possible, just inserting html code where needed.
Tomorrow, she and Glenn were scheduled to travel to Sauk City. She wasn’t looking forward to conning people into supplying her with pictures and quotes that supported the mines, so she blocked it from her mind as much as possible. She had other things to think about anyway, like her promise to Ruthann.
Patsy had pinned Dwayne down at lunch the day before, trying to pump him for information on what Randy’s problem was, but Dwayne had been as close-mouthed as an atheist at communion. Not that it mattered. Patsy knew what the problem was. What she didn’t know was how to get Randy to stand up to his mother. But Dwayne had agreed to bring Randy to Gordie’s tonight. It wasn’t the best place to matchmake, but it was about all Daisy Creek had to offer, and if all else failed, at least they served beer. If she had to, she’d get Randy good and liquored up. At the very least, he’d be more willing to admit why he was avoiding Ruthann.
Patsy had been doing a little avoiding of her own. Will had called four times yesterday and three today. Granny shook her head and mumbled as she relayed each message but hadn’t offered her opinion—yet. Patsy was sure Tilde had filled Granny in on the scene at Will’s house.
The whole thing was embarrassing enough without her entire family discussing her sex (or lack of) life. The worst of it was they thought she should jump Will’s bones and worry about the consequences later. But Patsy couldn’t do that. Sex wasn’t something she took lightly, and after seeing him at his house, listening to him talk, Patsy had been forced to admit there was something special about Will. If she committed to him sexually, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to merrily walk away when the time came to leave Daisy Creek. Now, thanks to Glenn, she was closer to realizing that dream than ever before. She couldn’t let a rampant sex drive get in her way.
A knock on the door signaled Ruthann’s arrival. Granny looked up from the TV, where a wrestler dressed like a rapper yelled insults at the crowd. Patsy waved at her to stay seated, gave Pugnacious a kiss, and walked out into the thick night air.
“You ready?” Ruthann tugged on her denim mini skirt.
Patsy stopped for a
minute, startled by Ruthann’s hair. “What happened to you?”
“Momma helped me highlight my hair. You like it?”
Patsy wondered if Ruthann’s mother was in league with Randy’s to keep the two apart. She backed Ruthann up under the porch light. Ruthann’s normally mousey hair had multiple wide stripes running through it. The overall effect wouldn’t have been horrible if the stripes hadn’t been as brassy as a new doorknob.
“Momma said I needed more style, something to make me stand out from the crowd.”
“Well, it does that.”
“She loaned me her shoes too.” Ruthann twisted her foot, revealing four-inch mules with zebra-striped fur trim.
Good Lord, Ruthann was turning into Tilde.
“Can you even walk in those things?”
“Sure.” Ruthann twirled on one foot and promptly fell off the porch into the wisteria bush.
Patsy hoped they were having a special on beer tonight. If Randy didn’t need liquoring up, she would.
Chapter 11
Patsy got Ruthann into the roadhouse without either of them breaking a leg. She pushed her friend into a chair and ordered her to stay put. “I’ll get us some drinks.”
The line at the bar was short. Patsy paid for their drinks and turned to head back to the table. Ruthann was no longer alone. Will sat next to her, facing Patsy. Damn it all. Who’d have thought he’d be at the roadhouse on a Wednesday night? Patsy stopped twenty feet from them, condensation from the cold bottles chilling her hands. He and Ruthann seemed engrossed in conversation. He was dressed casually, in a Blues jersey and navy shorts. The hockey shirt emphasized the broadness of his shoulders and seemed to fit the clean-cut, bad-boy image he pulled off so well. Looking up, Ruthann flashed her a grin. Patsy took a long pull from her Bud Light and returned to the table.
“Here’s your drink.” She handed Ruthann her wine cooler and pretended she didn’t notice the 190 pounds of enticement sitting next to her.
“Will said he gave you a tour of his house the other day,” Ruthann commented. “But that your Aunt Tilde interrupted you.”
Patsy studied the pattern of gouges and scars that adorned the wooden tabletop.
“He said you particularly enjoyed the turret.” Ruthann continued.
Patsy flicked her gaze to Will. He was the picture of innocence. Ruthann, oblivious to the undercurrents surging from her friend, kept talking.
“Something about the wainscoting. What did you say it was, leather?” She angled her head at Will. With a mild tilt to his lips, he nodded a reply. Ruthann glanced at Patsy before continuing, “He said you got really excited about the leather wainscoting.”
Patsy slid her beer back and forth with short, quick movements. Will’s innocent smile might fool Ruthann, but not Patsy. She knew a smirk when she saw one. It wasn’t like he was Mr. In Control in that turret either.
Sure, Patsy’d gotten a little forward, what with the underwear thing, but she didn’t remember him running away; quite the opposite, really. Now he sat there all smug, like he had a secret on her. Damn, he was annoying.
Ruthann glanced from Patsy’s twitching bottle and narrowed eyes to Will’s smart-aleck smile with alarm and placed her hand on Patsy’s. “You need to pee? I think I need to pee.”
Patsy stared at her, dumbfounded. Where had that come from? “Well, then pee. You don’t need me helping you.”
Ruthann glanced nervously at Patsy’s beer and stood up. “As long as I’m up, let me get the next round.” She grabbed the bottle and scurried away from the table.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished with that,” Patsy yelled after her.
Will slid into the seat next to Patsy. “What did you do to her?”
“Me? You’re the one being all coy and smart-assy.”
“Smart-assy?” He looked offended.
Let him pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Maybe she was protecting you.” Someone fired up the jukebox. As the sultry strains of a slow song wafted over them, Patsy stared after her friend.
“What game were you playing anyway?” Patsy asked, resisting the urge to sway along with the music. Some silly song about feeling love in your toes; Ruthann had probably picked it.
“No game. I don’t play games, and I didn’t realize I needed protecting.” He edged his chair closer, pressing his bare knee against hers. Two square inches of contact had never felt so intimate. Patsy suppressed a shiver and the urge to run her hand up his thigh.
The voice from the jukebox advised she should let love show.
Let it show. There was an idea, she could just trail her fingers up that muscular thigh… Patsy shook her head. Where was Ruthann with her beer?
Let it show. How insane. There needed to be less showing around here, not more. For example, bare knees; men should wear jeans, not leave all that skin exposed, letting it press up against hers, all warm and rough and masculine.
It was lewd. That’s what it was. Patsy needed to take a stand for decency. She attempted to pull her leg away, but her skin seemed to have formed some kind of bond with Will’s. She should just stand up or maybe shove Will off his chair onto the floor.
She should, but she didn’t. She just sat there, trapped by the heat surging between them and the seductive music wrapping them together.
Finally, the music faded into silence. Patsy exhaled loudly, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Thank God that song was over. Sweet and sentimental. Save it for the gullible.
Ready to set Will straight on a few boundaries, namely the one that kept his bare skin away from hers, Patsy opened her mouth.
“Howdy, sis.” Dwayne, Randy, and, to Patsy’s further annoyance, Jessica pulled up chairs and sat down.
Just when she was getting ready to show Will he couldn’t play cute with her.
“We’re not interrupting nothing, are we?” Dwayne grinned.
“No,” Patsy grumbled. She edged away from Will until a nice solid inch of air separated their knees. Not as good as lighting into him, but he got the message.
“Nothing at all.” Will slid his chair over. Now, his entire leg, from knee to thigh, pressed against Patsy’s. “That give you enough room?”
Patsy fumed. He might as well be sitting in her seat. She slid her hands under the edge of her chair to scoot it away from Will, and his hand dropped on her thigh.
Patsy froze.
“Oh, I don’t need much room. I’ll just squeeze in right here.” Jessica turned sideways, pressing her chest Will’s direction and pushed her way into the seat next to him. “You give anymore thought to getting office space downtown? I’d just love to help you out.” The bimbo ran her fingers down the neckline of her low-cut top, stopping at the swell of her breast.
She’d like to help him out all right, right out of his pants. Patsy snorted. Jessica had the gall to look annoyed.
“I’m working on something, but I don’t need space right now. Maybe in the next month or so, and for sure by spring.” Will made little circles with the pads of his fingers on the inside of Patsy’s thigh. “Did you have something special in mind?” Patsy clamped her legs together, trapping his hand. He responded by squeezing and massaging the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
Jessica wet her lips. “I’m sure I can come up with something very special. You just let me know when you’re ready.”
Distracted by the tramp’s obvious invitation, Patsy relaxed her legs. She started to comment on what Jessica’s specialty was, but Will’s hand traveling further up her thigh turned her thoughts elsewhere.
Dwayne raised his eyebrows at her from across the table. “You got something on your mind, Patsalee? You’re wiggling like there’s earthworms in your drawers.”
“She’s a little fidgety tonight, isn’t she?” Will looked at Patsy with concern as his fingers inched higher.
Smart-ass. Correction, forward smart-ass. “I’m fine.” Desperate to end the contact before she lost all control, she plucked Wi
ll’s roaming hand off her leg and deposited it into his lap. “I was just hoping we could hear more about the special services Jessica has to offer.” She turned a saccharine smile on her rival.
“We were talking about real estate,” Jessica retorted. “Not that I couldn’t be talked into a few special services on the side.” She winked at Will.
Will, Patsy noticed, hadn’t tried to put his hand back on Patsy’s thigh, and now he was laughing with Jessica. Patsy fought the urge to shove her head under the table to see just what territory his hands were exploring now.
“What’s everybody laughing at?” Ruthann wobbled up to the table. She’d applied a fresh coat of blinding pink lipstick.
At least it took attention away from her hair. “Where’s my beer?” Patsy asked. Stuck at a table with Jessica and Will, and no drink.
“Oh, I forgot. Besides, beer’s fattening. You should try something lighter.” Ruthann held out a glass of clear liquid and ice cubes.
“What’s that?” Patsy asked.
“Citron martini on the rocks. I read in Cosmo it’s what all the stars of Sex and the City drink in real life.”
“That show’s not even on anymore,” Patsy replied. Will picked up his drink with his left hand, and replaced his right on Patsy’s thigh. Something inside her unclenched.
“I got the first three seasons on DVD.” Ruthann fished the lemon out of her drink. “I thought I’d try something new.”
Patsy was trying something new too, melting into the sensation of strong fingers caressing her bare skin. She barely noticed the conversation going on around her.
Ruthann squeezed in next to Randy. “Hey, Randy. I saw your momma and Luke at church on Sunday. Did she tell you I said hi?” Ruthann pulled a strand of hair through her fingers.
Randy studied the same pattern of scars and gouges Patsy had earlier. “No, she didn’t mention it.”
Will removed his hand to wave at the waitress for another beer and Patsy returned to her senses. She was losing it. She had to pay attention, both to what was going on with Ruthann and Randy and to what was happening with her. She picked up her purse and wedged it between herself and Will.
