Sticky Notes - A clean romance (Ethel King Series Book 1)

by Sherri Schoenborn Murray

  “Hello,” Ethel answered.

  “Hi, it’s Quinn. I was wondering what time Katherine left?”

  “Twenty minutes ago.”

  “And she’s getting groceries first before she goes to Joe’s?”

  “Yes, groceries first. She’s walking, so she can’t buy too much.”

  “I see.” Quinn strolled to the edge of the floral section. As he said it, he glimpsed something red out of the corner of his eye. A beautiful blonde stood near the orange display in the produce department. Katherine.

  “Is everything okay, Quinn?” Ethel asked.

  “No, I was just wondering if you needed anything.” Did she know he was looking for Katherine? Would she tell her?

  “I asked Katherine to pick me up a few things, toothpicks, cotton balls, stamps . . . nothing very heavy. Thank you, Quinn. You’re always so thoughtful.”

  “No problem, Ethel.” He flipped the phone closed and stared at Katherine’s profile. He meandered to the border of Floral and Produce and, pretending interest in a rounder of white lilies, leaned down to sniff them. They were more elegant than aromatic. When he stood up, Katherine had spotted him. She rolled her cart toward him. A smile teased her lips. She was no longer Annoying; she was Alluring.

  It was difficult to remember back to his office and their jarring first impression of each other, yet an inner voice told him he needed to.

  Maybe their kiss on Sunday had brought back memories of Joe. Maybe they’d had such great memories together that she was willing to overlook the fact that he didn’t have a brain. Maybe it was all Quinn’s doing.

  Bananas, two rib-eye steaks, a box of Wheaties, cotton balls, an onion, a package of mushrooms, and a bag of oranges sat in her cart. She was shopping for another man. The ten-pound bag of oranges was a bit optimistic, provided she was walking.

  “Hi, Katherine.”

  “Hi, Benton.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I’m surprised you’re here. You’re meeting Miss Harvard within the hour.”

  He nodded and continued staring. An epiphany came to him and made the knot in his chest cinch tighter. Losing out on her might be the cost of his madness.

  “How’s Joe?” His voice cracked.

  “He’s craving real food.” She shrugged.

  Didn’t she know that men liked concrete words?

  “Joe’s lucky to have you.”

  “Thanks, Benton.” She glanced at the potted lilies he’d been sniffing. Even though he was dating another woman within the hour, she looked him squarely in the eye. Though they’d kissed on Sunday, she appeared fine, not a hint of angst.

  “So tonight’s Miss Harvard?” Her brows lifted.

  “Yes, she resides in Harvard and works and goes to church in Princeton.”

  “Oh, an Ivy League girl.” She nodded.

  “Have you ever studied how those two pocket-sized towns received their elite names?”

  “No.” She again met his gaze.

  “Neither have I.” Were Katherine’s eyes always this deep, satiated blue? Or was it the floral department’s lighting, her mood . . . how did she really feel about him meeting Miss Harvard? Didn’t it bother her a little? They’d kissed on Sunday. Really kissed. He searched her eyes for any telltale sign.

  She smiled up at him, and her slow blink made his insides feel like marshmallow crème.

  “Are you and Joe back together?” The question was an involuntary reflex that couldn’t be held back any longer. Was Joe why her mood was so light, given the circumstances?

  “No.”

  “Any chance?”

  Her mouth bunched together. “No.”

  “What does that mean?” For goodness’ sake, he had a blind date tonight. He wanted to know exactly what she meant.

  “Joe and I are good friends. That’s all.” She gripped the handle of the cart with both hands.

  They were just good friends. Funny how he could still picture her on the back of Joe’s motorcycle, nuzzling way too close, with her arms wrapped around him.

  “The lilies are a bit solemn for a first date.” She nodded toward the rounder.

  He should buy them, or Katherine would think the only reason he was here was to see her. He picked up the pot hosting three lily buds. Katherine wasn’t going anywhere. She was simply making a steak dinner for a good friend. He could meet Miss Harvard in peace.

  “There you are, Katherine.” Tan, athletic, and good looking, Joe stopped near her side. He juggled two avocados in the air and caught them with the same hand before settling them in the top basket of her cart.

  “Joe.” Her cheeks were raspberry Jell-O red. “Benton’s buying flowers for Miss Harvard.”

  “Hi, Benton.” One blond brow lifted. “It’s weird how you always turn up where we are.”

  Quinn’s mouth felt dry like he’d eaten potato chips for three straight days in the desert.

  “His sister is cutting his hair. She also set the appointment for Benton to be there at the same time as a young woman from Harvard, Idaho.” Katherine’s mood-ring eyes were now the deepest blue. “I hope it goes well for you, Mr. Benton.”

  “Good luck, Professor, I hope she’s the one.” Joe chuckled.

  Ж

  Did he even say anything? Somehow Quinn had paid for the lilies and returned to his car. Weren’t lilies for funerals? Had Katherine been kidding when she’d said they were solemn for a first date? Had it all been a setup? Something Evans cooked up? What had Joe said? I hope she’s the one. Was it Joe’s way of saying he didn’t want him to end up with Katherine?

  Was Evans behind all this? If so, he was brilliant. Quinn turned left into the Key Bank parking lot, shifted into park, and speed-dialed Evans’s number.

  He had time.

  “Evans! It’s Quinn.” Thank God he’d picked up. “I was just at Safeway. Please tell me you’re the mastermind behind what just transpired.”

  “I don’t usually shop at Safeway. They’ve never carried loose-leaf tea. I asked them to carry it at one time, but the manager didn’t think it would be widely received. Did you find some?”

  Quinn chuckled. Evans was good. No, he was great.

  “You know exactly what I mean. I was just at Safeway. Katherine. Joe. Dinner. Together.” Quinn chuckled and stretched his hand back along the ceiling of the car.

  “Benton, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you saying that you saw Katherine and Joe together?”

  “Nice try!” He let out some pent-up steam. “I just saw Katherine and Joe together at Safeway. This is just like you to cook something up right before I leave. I know you and Cindy want the two of us together, but this time, you’ve gone too far.”

  “I’m sorry, Benton, we haven’t cooked anything up. Though we would love to see the two of you together, we’ve decided its best that we don’t get any more involved than we already are.”

  Quinn propped his elbows on the center of his steering wheel. “Are you saying you didn’t plan Safeway or Katherine making dinner for Joe?”

  “No. Where are you? Shouldn’t you be driving north? Focus, Benton. Tonight is not Miss Moscow. It’s Miss Harvard.”

  “You’re right.” Quinn shifted into reverse and wrapped his arm along the back of the passenger seat. “I need to go. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

  During the half-hour drive to Princeton, Idaho, he mulled over what had just taken place. Ethel didn’t know Joe was at Safeway. Was Katherine seeing Joe on the sly, while Ethel secretly hoped to match make Katherine and him? If so, Katherine was brilliant.

  Heading north, Quinn drove over the crest of Moscow Mountain. The drive would be a pain during the winter months when there were three feet of snow on the ground. Why had he ever committed to meeting a woman who lived so far from Moscow? He loved Moscow—his home and neighborhood, living so close to the university, Ethel, Tidyman’s, and the farmer’s market, Evans and the professors’ group. He noticed little of the stunning scenery, the vibrant green patchwork blocks that rolled off into
the cotton-ball clouds.

  Katherine’s and his time together had been so great on Sunday. Their kiss had been amazing. How could she already be with Joe?

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Quinn glanced toward the peephole and wondered why Evans’s front door was locked, and what was taking them so long to answer the bell.

  Cindy swung open the door. Smoke haloed the entryway chandelier.

  “Sorry, we’re in the aftermath of a smoke alarm. The chocolate madeleines burned.”

  Quinn slid off his loafers and followed her into the kitchen. The fan above the stove whirled loudly. Windows were opened; charred madeleines lay in one of Cindy’s floppy silicone baking pans on the counter.

  “We got to talking.” Cindy’s flushed, round face seemed slightly off balance, as one dangling silver earring was in, and one was somewhere else. Evans cleared his throat for her attention and pointed to his own earlobe. She headed into the living room.

  “The vanilla madeleines turned out heavenly.” Evans leaned a hand against the granite island. “Benton, you obviously have your poker face on, and as always, I can’t read you.”

  “He looks unhappy.” Cindy returned. Head tilted to the side, she inserted the missing bauble.

  “Why do you say that?” Evans asked.

  “He wears it heavy like some women wear eyeliner.”

  “I miss Katherine, too.” Evans patted his shoulder as he walked past. “We’re about to relive your dud of an evening without her.”

  Quinn made a cup of tea and then sat down in his usual chair. His gaze took in the empty loveseat cushion where Katherine usually sat. The evening was a double letdown.

  “Okay, moment of truth, did Miss Harvard live up to her Ivy League name?” Evans asked, pouring tea.

  “Your hair cut looks nice,” Cindy said.

  “Thank you.” Quinn glanced at the empty loveseat. “Usually, I go six weeks between cuts. This time, I went eight. You’re correct, by the way, Evans; Miss Harvard was a dud.” Leaning forward, Quinn picked up his mug.

  The news didn’t appear to come as a surprise to either of them.

  “Go on . . .” Evans said. “You can’t simply summarize like that and expect us to feel satisfied. I’ve grown accustomed to your slow-moving, dramatic details ending with the clincher.”

  “All right.” Quinn rolled a kink out of his neck. “I showed up at five thirty, right on time. My sister, Renae, has a little beauty parlor room that they built onto the side of their ranch-style home. They’re two blocks off the main drag in Princeton. There’s a separate entrance, several washbowls, and chairs. Miss Harvard was running late, so Renae and I caught up for about fifteen minutes before her arrival.”

  Evans tsked-tsked.

  “My sister made our meeting feel more staged than I would have preferred. When Miss Harvard first arrived, I was facing the mirror and couldn’t see her, as she’d found a magazine and a chair almost directly behind me.” Quinn suppressed a yawn, blinked, and glanced at his watch.

  “Renae talked off and on with Miss Harvard while she cut my hair. I came to the conclusion that she had a voice that, over time, if her personality were agreeable, I could eventually come to grips with.

  “When Renae spun my chair around, Miss Harvard was reading People magazine. I saw Brad Pitt’s face before I did hers. For an icebreaker, I asked, ‘Is that Brad Pitt on the cover?’ And she said, ‘Yes, isn’t he always?’ She lowered the magazine to look at me. At first, I could only see her eyes.”

  Cindy’s gaze narrowed. “What’d you think?”

  “It was a blow. From the eyes up, she looked quite a bit like Sylvia.” He shook his head. “I was caught off guard. Renae hadn’t warned me. Later, when Miss Harvard tossed the magazine aside, I realized it was only the eyes. Her shoulders are broader and her mind narrower. No sense of humor. I think my sister wanted me to meet this woman solely on account of her eyes.”

  “Go on.” Evans yawned.

  “Well, in the downtime that followed, I asked her a dating question that Carl had somehow finagled out of Katherine in your driveway, the night he attempted to drive her home.”

  “Which was?” Cindy asked.

  “If you could have been a journalist or historian for any American war, which one would you have wanted to cover and why?”

  “A great question!” Evans patted Cindy’s nearest hand. “Remind me to ask you later this evening, love. Katherine’s question gives purpose to the dud of an evening we are presently reliving.”

  “Wait,” Cindy said. “You asked her that while she was browsing through her People magazine in the beauty salon?”

  “Yes, I was trying to determine if I wanted Renae to ask Miss Harvard to join us afterward for tacos.”

  “Well?” Evans said.

  “Well . . .” Quinn smiled. “Miss Harvard said, ‘You must be Renae’s brother, the history professor at the U of I?’ And of course, I said, ‘Yes.’ She proceeded to cross one knee over the other and said, ‘That almost sounds like a pickup line.’”

  “That doesn’t sound too small town to me.” Evans chuckled.

  “Just wait.” Quinn cleared his throat. “I said, ‘I thought it might make for good beauty parlor conversation.’”

  “You didn’t?” Evans regarded Cindy. “Remember how I said Benton’s pattern is that during the course of the evening, he purposefully blows it. Here’s a prime example.”

  “Precisely after that, my sister gave my chair a quarter turn, so I was now looking out the window with my left profile to Miss Harvard. I heard the flipping of magazine pages again, and I was bored, so I asked her the same question again. She’d obviously given it some thought.” Quinn inhaled deeply. “My fellow professors and friends, Miss Harvard’s response was, and I quote: ‘“I would like to have been a journalist in the war that Tom Cruise was in when he starred in Top Gun.’”

  Cindy’s jaw dropped. “But it wasn’t a war.” She scooted forward on the couch.

  “No, it was simply fighter pilots training at Miramar in San Diego,” Evans murmured.

  “Exactly, I didn’t have the heart to correct her,” Quinn said.

  “I’m in shock!” Evans shook his head.

  “I think she’s more movie learned than book learned. Sounds like she rents a lot of videos from the little convenience store where she works.”

  “I’m sorry, Benton,” Evans said.

  “Yes, my evening was a dud. I do like Katherine’s question. I plan to use it the next couple of weeks.”

  “Benton . . .” Evans cleared his throat. “Mashburn mentioned an attractive grad student at Wazzu.” He paused to include Cindy. “Mashburn is a dear elderly professor friend of mine at Wazzu, who just retired this spring. Supposedly, this young woman is not in a serious relationship, and she’s getting her master’s in history, of all things.”

  “Dennis!” Cindy’s eyes widened, and she shook her head.

  “Cindy’s right, Evans. Even though Miss Wazzu sounds interesting, after Miss Palouse, I plan to retire from blind dating.”

  “Don’t tell us that,” Evans droned. “You simply need a week or two off.”

  Quinn took a sip of lukewarm tea and studied Katherine’s side of the empty loveseat across the room. She would have appreciated tonight’s recap. He tried not to let his mind wander to her time with Joe.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  During Sunday’s church service, Katherine’s gaze lingered on the cross. Christ’s suffering wasn’t only physical—being betrayed by His closest companions made it emotional anguish as well. Plus, He bore the weight of the world’s sins. If anyone understood her emotional suffering, Christ did. God, the Father, creator of emotion.

  Katherine didn’t know if she could hold out for two more weeks. Whenever she was around Quinn, a vise-like grip tightened about her heart. Every little word of hope that he spoke turned the clamp one more notch—being in his presence was painful. She wanted to bring her suffering to the cross, kneel befor
e it, and have a good sob.

  How would Christ want her to handle Benton? Of course, with love. Dating is difficult, Lord.

  Pastor Ken’s sermon focused on the heat of trials and the story of the three men in the furnace. After the perfect mid-summer sermon, they sang a closing hymn. Grandma leaned toward Quinn. “Are you sure you won’t come for lunch?”

  “I shouldn’t. I have a pile of paperwork, laundry, ironing, a lawn to mow.”

  “Oh my, do you want me to come over?” Grandma offered her services.

  “If it’s because of me, I can go to the library,” Katherine said.

  “That’s nice of you both, but I’ll manage.”

  Benton had been visiting practically all semester, and now, he was literally taking Evans’s advice and letting one little kiss put a wedge between him and Grandma.

  Why?

  Ж

  Katherine set two ink pens on the top of her desk. There were still a few stragglers and two minutes left on the clock before the official start of Benton’s Civil War class.

  “What’s a simile again?” Angel asked.

  A simile had nothing to do with their midterm exam. Katherine rolled her eyes.

  “You know, it’s when you use the word like or as,” Ronnie said, flipping her long red hair over her shoulder. “Like . . . she was as dumb as a pizza box.”

  “Is anyone else hungry or is it just me?” Angel asked, looking around.

  “I’m always hungry,” said Mark, a graduate student in the third row.

  “Oh-hhh . . .” Angel eyed Mark while Professor Benton handed out the light blue booklets for their midterm essay exam. Mark, a fellow grad student, was a tad heavyset and like Angel below average in height.

  Hmm . . . maybe Mark liked canned chili?

  On a separate piece of paper, Professor Benton handed out two essay questions. Katherine chose: Compare and contrast the North and the South. Due to their social, political, and economic differences, was the Civil War inevitable and why?