Crazy Little Thing Called Love

by Molly Cannon

  “Thanks, Donny Joe. This is really nice of you. I’m so tired, I don’t even know if I’m actually hungry.”

  “When’s the last time you ate?” He pulled a big bowl of salad from the fridge and a couple of different dressings, too. He wasn’t sure she’d lower her standards enough to use the bottled stuff, but she filled her bowl with a big pile of salad greens and slathered them with enough bleu cheese dressing to drown a goat.

  “I had a banana nut muffin at breakfast,” she said with her mouth full. The microwave dinged, and he barely had the plate in front of her before she was taking a big bite. “Okay, I was wrong. I’m starving.”

  He grinned, watching her shovel the food in like a stevedore. Etta was a strong, independent, modern woman. Not the kind of woman who wanted to be taken care of most days, and most days he wasn’t the kind of man to make the offer. He was out for a good time, a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. But just for tonight he didn’t mind. Nobody would know if she let her walls down for just a little while.

  He took a chance and asked the question left hanging between them in the truck. “What happened in Chicago, Etta? Why did you come home looking like you’d been hit by a freight train?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “As the nose on your face.” She hadn’t bitten his head off, or told him to mind his own business, so he took that as a good sign. “What happened at the restaurant?”

  “Why do you care, Donny Joe? I’m here through the opening. After that who the hell knows what I’ll be doing.”

  “So, what happened?” he asked again. He figured if he repeated the question often enough she’d finally tell him.

  She let the pizza she was holding fall to her plate. “Diego got married, and now he and his new bride are trying to force me out of the restaurant.”

  “Diego’s your partner, right? How can they do that?”

  “I don’t have a clue. They handed me a big stack of papers filled with legal mumbo jumbo and said they were doing exactly that. I’m going to get Carlton Starling to take a look and tell me what my options are.”

  “No wonder you looked like you’d been sucker-punched when you got off that plane, kiddo. What a rotten thing to do to someone.” He was shocked at how angry he felt on her behalf.

  “I still can’t believe it. But I don’t want to sit and wallow in it anymore, either. At least not until I know where I stand. And since I’m here for the time being, I’d rather concentrate on the B&B. There’s a list of things to do a mile long, and I’ve been pretending they’d just take care of themselves.”

  “I appreciate that, but the B&B can wait if you need time to take care of loose ends in Chicago—”

  She cut him off with a wave. “Thanks, but the airplane ride home gave me a chance to consider all that. The main thing is my apartment. I’ll make some calls tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure Mimi, one of the assistant chefs, will be happy to sublet it until I get this sorted out. She lives with her mother and two grown brothers and she’s been dying to get out on her own.”

  As she finished eating he sat beside her on a barstool, feeling at a loss over what to do next. Etta was such a puzzle to him. He prided himself on being able to make a woman feel better even if only in the short term. Okay, maybe especially in the short term. Then it came to him in a flash. He had just the thing to put the grit back in her spine.

  He leaned into her space and spoke like he was ready to share a few secrets. “Etta, I know we’ve been butting heads since you got here, and we’ll probably butt heads some more before it’s all said and done.”

  She nodded. “That’s very true. Are we about to butt heads over something else right now?”

  “Could be. I’ve come to the conclusion that you actually enjoy our little tests of will.” He got up and returned the salad bowl and the bottles of dressing to the refrigerator.

  “Well, I’m too tired to put up any kind of fight tonight,” she admitted. “So, whatever it is, you have me at a disadvantage.”

  He winked. “I’m counting on that.”

  “Okay, enough with the mysterious act. What are you talking about?”

  “If you follow me, sunshine, I’ll show you.”

  The look she gave him was downright suspicious. She stood up, put her napkin on the bar and carried her dishes to the sink. “Thanks for the food, and for lending an ear, but given your reputation, Donny Joe, I think I’ll pass on anything else.”

  “Why, Miz Green, I don’t know what you’re implying. Despite my reputation, I assure you my intentions where you’re concerned are completely above board.” He walked to the kitchen door and beckoned her to follow. “Just trust me. Come on.”

  He could tell the moment her resistance evaporated. She threw her hands in the air and said, “Lord have mercy. I hope I don’t regret this in the morning.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  He led her through the living room and down a hallway into a part of the house she hadn’t seen before. This house wasn’t as old as Grammy’s, but it had still been there as long as she could remember. Some well-to-do family owned it back in those days, but she’d never had a reason to go inside it. She didn’t know how long Donny Joe had lived here, but from its lack of furnishings it must not have been long. Or else he didn’t mind the empty unlived-in looking rooms.

  He finally stopped at a door at the back of the house and paused with his hand on the door knob. “Get ready, Etta. I can only hope you are up for the challenge.”

  “First you’re all mysterious, and now you’re overly dramatic. Why don’t you see if you can build up the suspense a little bit more?” She was already imagining a big rotating round bed with red satin sheets and mirrors on the ceiling. And maybe large paintings of naked women decorating the walls.

  He smiled and opened the door with a flourish. He waved her inside and reached for the light switch on the wall. “Ta da. Let the games begin.”

  She looked around the room and turned to him with a laugh. “A dartboard? You’re going to challenge me to a game of darts?”

  “That’s the plan. On second thought I know you’re worn out. Maybe we should do this another time.” He acted like he was going to leave.

  She grabbed his arm. “Oh, no you don’t, mister. Ever since that night at Lu Lu’s I’ve been dying for a chance to see just how good you really are. You talk a good game, but I want to see a little action. And don’t think for a minute I’m worried about holding my own.”

  “Let’s see what you got, then.” He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out several cases of darts. “Take your pick from any of these.”

  “Thanks. These will work.”

  He walked over to a drawer and pulled out a fancy case. “I’ll play with these.”

  “If you need fancy custom made-to-order darts to help you win, by all means.”

  “Oh, man, she’s starting with the smack talk already. Let’s see what kind of game you’ve got, short stuff.”

  “You’ll be sorry, but first things first. What are we playing for?” She took out a dart and bounced the barrel in her hand, getting used to the feel of the weight and heft.

  He closed one eye, considering her for a moment. “Hmm. Let me think about it. It needs to be something good. I know. If I win I get that kiss you offered me earlier in the truck.”

  She looked at him with something akin to pity. “I told you that was just a figure of speech, but sure, why not? Since I don’t plan to lose. But what if I win?”

  “Tell me what you want, Etta.” He made it sound like she might confess some deep, dark fantasy. And he sounded like he was just the man to make it come true.

  She scooted up close to him, and in a sultry voice said, “When given a choice I always opt for cold hard cash.” She smiled and rubbed her thumb and fingers together in the age-old sign.

  He looked disappointed. “I thought you’d be more inventive than that, but if you insist. How much?”

  “I’ll go easy on you this time. Say twenty bucks a game
.”

  “One kiss against twenty bucks. I definitely have more of an incentive to win,” he crowed.

  “But I have more of an incentive not to let you.”

  “Lady’s first,” he said.

  “No, let’s throw for bulls.” Meaning they each threw a dart and the one closest to the bull’s eye picked the game they would play and got to throw first, too.

  They threw for bulls and he won, so he said, “Pick your poison, missy. Cricket or 301.”

  “I’ll choose Cricket but you start. I want to see what I’m up against.”

  They bumped knuckles and in unison said, “Shoot well.”

  In Cricket the object was to close out all the numbers on the board by hitting each number three times. He started by hitting two twenties and missed on the third.

  “Good darts,” she said before taking her turn. She hit a single twenty, a double twenty and a triple twenty, closing her twenties and scoring sixty points.

  “Good darts,” he said with a note of surprise in his voice.

  After she wiped the floor with him in the first game he asked her where she learned to play. “Because you do it all wrong,” he said. “You’re goofy footed, and you chunk the dart at the board like you’re throwing a gall-durn baseball.”

  “Is that so? Well, if this is wrong I don’t want to be right.” So she threw off the wrong foot and maybe she used a little more force than necessary when she did it. He wasn’t the first person to remark on her unorthodox style. And he wouldn’t be the last person she’d beat while she was doing it.

  But he pressed her. “No really. Where did you learn?”

  “If you must know, Finale’s has a dartboard over by the bar. The staff plays most nights after the place shuts down for the night. I don’t know if you’ve ever worked in a restaurant, but it’s very hard to wind down and go home. Playing darts is our way of doing that. What about you? Where did you pick up your skills?”

  “Bars, dives, and every low-rent tavern in the county. The usual hangouts for a man of my ilk. I found out at an early age that it beats fistfights for letting off steam.”

  “After that first game maybe you should stick to fistfights.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m just getting warmed up, shorty.”

  In the second game he pulled into an early lead. When her dart landed on the wall instead of the dartboard he seemed to think she could use some instruction.

  “Keep your wrist steady, sugar, and throw from the elbow. Like this.” He stepped around her and cupped her elbow. His body was snuggled up behind her steady and strong.

  She could feel the heat of his thighs as he brushed against her rear end. She fought the urge to squirm even closer. “Are you trying to throw me off my game, Donny Joe?”

  He brought out that grin of his that could turn her bones to molasses. “Is it working?”

  Her next three darts closed out fifteens. She let her breast brush his arm. “What do you think?”

  He missed everything on his next turn.

  She walked behind him, cupping his elbow with her hand. “Keep your wrist steady, sugar. I’ve been told that helps.”

  She won the second game, but just barely.

  After the third game she was sixty dollars richer. Donny Joe had raised the stakes by adding another kiss as forfeit each time, and at first she’d wondered if he was running some kind of hustle on her. He was good. She was better. At least for tonight.

  This had been just what she needed. A way to blow off steam, compete against a worthy adversary and come out the victor. All her troubles put on the back burner for at least a while. For extra motivation it didn’t hurt to imagine Diego’s face on the board as the dart flew through the air and dug its sharp point into the board, but for the most part she’d let everything else go and just enjoyed the moment.

  He pulled out his wallet and handed her three crisp twenty dollar bills. “You cleaned me out, lady. But I insist on a rematch soon.”

  “Just say when. I’m always happy to take your money, Donny Joe.” She paused for a minute, not sure of what to say next. “Well, I guess I’ll say good night now.”

  “Good night, Etta. Good darts.”

  She started to walk away, but came back to stand in front of him. “In case I didn’t say it, thank you for the ride home, and the food, and this.” She made a gesture toward the dartboard.

  He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You don’t need to thank me for any of that.”

  “Maybe not, but you kept me from falling apart tonight, and I won’t forget it.” She leaned up and started to kiss him on the cheek but at the last minute changed her mind. Instead she found his mouth and brushed her lips against his. A simple kiss, that was all. Before he could react she pulled away and ran out of the room.

  Part of her hoped he’d chase her down and kiss her senseless. No doubt, he could do that without trying. Push her against the wall with his big strong body and take her mouth in ways that would curl her toes and make her knees wobble. With every game he’d touched her a little more. The casual, feather-light brush of his hand or his leg held the power to spark flickers of need and want deep inside her. She’d done more than her share of returning those touches. He hadn’t been the only one sending signals.

  She reached her bedroom door and gazed back down the hall toward the game room. The events of the day had left her feeling stripped raw and vulnerable. Donny Joe couldn’t know it, but she would never forget the way he’d taken care of her tonight. And when she fell asleep she wouldn’t be thinking about Diego. She’d be thinking about Donny Joe.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Donny Joe sat at his desk at Backyard Oasis going over the month’s receipts. He’d been smart to add fire pits and chimeras to his inventory because those were about the only things selling right now. Things always slowed down in cold weather. But he knew sales would start picking up in early spring. They always did. At least the work on the B&B was on schedule, and now that Etta was giving it her full-time attention he could relax and concentrate on his own problems.

  The Green women had moved out of his house and back to the Hazelnut Inn. He hadn’t realized until they were gone how much he liked having them under his roof. It wasn’t just the home-cooked meals, either. He liked helping Daphne with her homework, and Beulah was such a sweetheart.

  But Etta.

  Since she’d kissed him he hadn’t thought about much else. Which was just about as dumb a thing as anything he could sit around and think about. He’d kissed too many women to count. And a good many of those kisses had been spectacular. Legendary, even. The stuff of myths and fairy tales. Etta’s kiss didn’t fall into any of those categories. In fact, he probably shouldn’t consider it a kiss at all. It had been over and done with before he could participate.

  But that didn’t seem to matter. The woman had touched her lips to his and he’d come undone. By some miracle of monumental self-control he’d had the sense not to chase her down so he could finish what she’d started. Grab her and push her up against the nearest wall. He wanted a real kiss, like he wanted his next breath. Full on, mouth to mouth. With his arms wrapped around her, body against body. Just to see if anything could live up to what that snippet of a kiss had promised.

  So, it was probably good that they’d moved out of his house, and that she’d thrown herself into work on the B&B. He hardly ever saw her and never without Beulah and Daphne by her side. And now they were out of his hair for good, living next door where they belonged.

  The front bell on the shop jingled and Irene Cornwell waltzed inside. “Afternoon, lover boy.”

  He stood up and walked out to greet her. “Hey, Irene. What brings you by?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “My hot tub is on the fritz. Maybe it’s time I bought a new one.”

  “Why don’t you let me take a look at it first? It might just need a new pump.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you, Donny Joe. Most guys would just sell me a new one with
out checking.”

  “I’m not most guys, sugar, and that’s no way to treat an old friend, now is it?”

  For the last few years Irene and he had relied on each other to help navigate the social scene in Everson. Donny was resigned to being thought of as an irrepressible ladies’ man no matter what. And when it came to Irene all town folks saw was a rich party girl. But he knew there was a lot more substance to Irene than that. Since her husband’s death he’d seen the way she’d locked her emotions up in a carefully guarded glass cage. To the outside world she might not appear to care about much, but Donny Joe knew that was just her way of keeping everyone but a chosen few at arm’s length. Donny Joe was one of the few.

  Many a night found them sharing a dance at Lu Lu’s, and many a patron at Lu Lu’s had seen them leaving together at the end of the night. So, the rumormongers in town would be disappointed to learn that their relationship was strictly platonic. They spent untold hours playing chess, watching movies or keeping up with their favorite sports teams in front of Irene’s gigantic TV. If folks thought something more was going on that was their problem. Neither Donny Joe nor Irene cared enough to set them straight.

  “You’re the best,” Irene said. “By the way, have you seen this?” She held out a light pink piece of paper. “They’re all over town.”

  He took a second to read it and then smiled. “It’s the Valentine’s Day menu for the Grand Opening. I didn’t realize Etta had gotten around to planning this yet. It looks terrific, doesn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. Did you see what she’s serving? A bunch of French stuff. Lamb, for God’s sake, and some kind of nut soup.”

  “Etta is a fantastic chef. She knows what she’s doing.” He jumped to her defense immediately.

  “I don’t care how good she is. Do you really think the folks here in Podunk Everson are going to pay that much money to eat weird food on Valentine’s Day? It’s supposed to be a day for love and affection, and if you’re lucky, mind-blowing sex. Not heartburn and indigestion. I’m telling you, the men around here will balk.”