by Amy Harmon
Was Missy right? Did someone want him off the show?
Luke hesitated outside his truck, twisting his keys around his finger as he studied the sign. Then he shoved the keys back in his pocket and headed for Carl’s Feed and Seed.
Chapter Nineteen
Round two of dating turned out to be nearly as crazy as round one. Alec begged for the Monday night slot because he’d found out about a nearby motocross race going on that night. And by nearby, he meant a two hour drive away, which meant four hours of trying to tune him out while he went on and on and on about himself.
Longest. Night. Ever.
Tuesday, Jake took Taycee to an indoor go cart racing facility in Denver, where she actually got to drive one of the carts herself. She even beat Jake once, probably because he let her win, but still, she’d take it. Wednesday brought a night of skeet shooting with Miles. Also fun, but her sore shoulder protested doing it again anytime soon.
By the time Thursday rolled around, Taycee was ready to fake an illness just to get a night off. At five o’clock sharp, Greg rapped on her door. Dressed in a wrinkled short-sleeved button down shirt, he looked as though he’d wrung out his clothes and left them to dry.
Despite his disheveled appearance, there was something refreshing and honest about Greg. He never tried to be anything but himself. It made Taycee feel like she could wear sweats, eat whatever she wanted—even burp—and he wouldn’t care. Or if he did, he’d call her on it. With him, Taycee always knew where she stood.
Unlike someone she didn’t want to think about.
Greg drove her straight to the diner for some take-out food, and Megan followed them inside with a camera. Why, Taycee wasn’t sure. Standing in line and ordering food would be the most boring footage ever.
Of course, this was before Taycee noticed Liza behind the counter.
“We’d like two specials please,” Greg told Liza before glancing at Taycee. “You do like chicken fried steak, right?” The way he said it made Taycee feel like she didn’t have a choice. Which was fine. It wouldn’t have been her first pick, but it wouldn’t have been her last either.
“Uh, sure, that sounds great.”
Liza eyed the camera nervously, and then pointed to the whiteboard behind her. “The chicken fried steak is actually the special tomorrow. Tonight, it’s beef tenderloin. Would you like that instead?”
Greg planted his hands on the counter and leaned forward. “I was actually hoping we could get the special price on the chicken fried steak today, rather than tomorrow. I don’t like red meat.”
Taycee’s lips twitched. Apparently the “chicken” in the name confused him, which was completely okay because Liza had never looked so flustered. Score one for Greg.
“Chicken fried steak is actually made with cubed steak,” Liza finally mustered. “And I’m sorry, but I’m only allowed to give you the special price on the day of the special.”
“I see.” Greg nodded, and then folded his arms. “Mind if I have a word with your manager?”
Eyes wide, Liza actually looked to Taycee for help—something Liza was sure to regret later since Taycee had no help to offer.
“Uh, Maris won’t be here for another hour,” Liza finally said, her gaze flickering once more to the camera.
“Do you have a phone number for her?”
“It’s only a dollar difference.” Liza’s fingers trembled as she pointed out the prices on the menu.
“Exactly my point.” Greg reached for his wallet as though he knew he’d won. “If it’s only a dollar difference, what’s the big deal? Whatever happened to customer service?”
“Okay, fine.” Liza’s hands shook as she rang up their order. Two chicken fried steaks were done in record time. Score another one for Greg.
Taycee allowed herself a small smile as they left the diner behind. Greg ushered her back to his car and soon they were on their way. “You know, Taycee, there’s really no set price for anything. It’s always negotiable, and I make it a point to get a better deal on everything I buy. If someone’s not willing to meet me partway, I always walk away. No matter what.”
“Good to know.” Although Taycee didn’t exactly agree. As a business owner, she knew how difficult it was to make ends meet, especially in a small town. Sure, it was good to be economical, but she also believed in supporting small businesses—Maris’s diner included.
“It’s why I make such a great buyer,” Greg continued. “My company always gets the best deals with me around.”
“It’s great you like your job so much.”
“Yeah, and if you ever need help getting a better deal on flowers, let me know. I’m your man.”
“Will do.” Not. Taycee already got a great deal on flowers from her wholesaler—someone who’d become a good friend over the years. She wasn’t about to jeopardize that relationship by asking for more.
Greg came to an intersection and stopped. Though no other cars were around, he looked both left and right before driving through it at an almost painfully slow pace. “Want to know a secret?” he said.
“What?”
“The best place to get great deals are at yard sales.”
“You don’t say.”
“In fact, just last month I got an awesome push lawn mower for five bucks. They wanted ten, but I talked them down.”
Taycee shot him a look. What kind of lawn mower was only worth five bucks? Or ten for that matter? Maybe one of those really old they-don’t-make-‘em-like-they-used-to models that Greg planned on fixing up. “Does it still run?”
“Run? Oh, no. I’m talking about those mowers that don’t have engines, only reels. You just push it around your grass and it cuts your lawn. No gas needed. Money saving and eco friendly. Hands down, my best yard sale find this year.”
Taycee smiled as she peered out the window. Some might argue that a conversation about push mowers and yard sales would be dull, but somehow Greg made it entertaining. Just like he’d made ordering chicken fried steak entertaining.
No wonder Megan wanted to follow them everywhere with her camera.
Greg pulled to a stop in front of an abandoned building that had been the old hardware store before it downsized. He grabbed their take-out food, slung a backpack on his shoulder, and led Taycee around back to a rickety-looking ladder propped next to the building. He gestured for her to go up first.
She shook the ladder. “Is it safe?”
“You tell me.” He chuckled. “Just kidding. Yeah, it’s fine. Go on up.”
With tentative steps, Taycee climbed to the top where a blanket covered a small portion of the gravel roof. Burt lounged in a lawn chair with his camera affixed to a tripod while Megan followed behind. Taycee breathed in the fresh air and looked around. Although the roof itself was hot and dirty, the surrounding view of the woods at the edge of town made up for it. The trees were like a natural wall, keeping Shelter hidden from the rest of the world. She loved feeling like she lived in her own secret little town.
Taycee settled next to Greg on the blanket, and they ate the warm chicken fried steak. With every bite, she pictured Liza’s pale face and tried not to smile. After all these years of dealing with Liza, it was nice to see someone take her down a notch.
When they finished eating, Greg pulled out a few games from his backpack, including Scrabble, Yahtzee, Back-gammon, and a deck of cards. “I know you like games so I brought a few choices.”
The sun hovered just above the horizon, casting a myriad of warm colors across the sky. Orange, red, yellow, and pink, with some blue and purple here and there. It was like a rainbow that had been flattened and reshaped into a stunning abstract piece of art. And here she was, on the roof of an abandoned building about to play games. Greg couldn’t have planned a better date.
It made Taycee wonder what Luke would have planned. Something similar, maybe. Or maybe not at all similar, like spelunking.
Taycee frowned and forced her mind back to the present. She pointed to Backgammon—a game she’d neve
r played with Luke. “You’ll have to remind me how to play it. I’m not sure I remember all the rules.”
“Backgammon it is.” Greg set up the board, gave Taycee a brief run-down of the rules, and then promptly beat her twice in a row. Evidently she didn’t provide a big enough challenge, because he pulled out Scrabble next.
As twilight descended, they packed up and climbed back down the rickety latter. During the drive back, “Coming to America” by Neil Diamond came on the radio. Greg’s hand flew to the volume knob, turning it up. He joined in, belting out the lyrics.
Taycee laughed. Wrinkled shirts, yard sales, games, and now Neil Diamond. Greg was a riot.
When the song came to an end, he turned down the volume. “I love Neil Diamond.”
“So I noticed.”
“He sings Christmas songs too, you know.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Don’t you find it strange that a Jewish guy sings Christmas songs?”
Taycee bit her lip to keep from smiling. “Very.” Not that she’d ever given it any thought before.
Red and blue flashing lights lit up the dark sky behind them, accompanied by a shrieking siren. Taycee looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. The siren? Really Ralph?
“What did I do wrong?” Greg squinted at the speed-ometer as he slowed to a stop. “I wasn’t speeding.”
“Don’t worry, it’s just Ralph,” said Taycee. “I’ve known him forever.” Megan jumped from the back of the car to get a better camera angle as several people exited the diner down the street. A live audience. Awesome.
Moments later, Ralph peered through the window, shining a flashlight in the car. “Your license and registration, please.”
“Ralph,” Taycee said, leaning closer. “What’s the problem?”
A bright light zoomed in on her face, blinding her. “Taycee, that you in there?”
Her hand went up, shielding her eyes. “Yeah, it’s me. Mind turning that thing off?”
The light faded as Ralph holstered it at his side.
“Greg wasn’t speeding, was he?” Taycee said.
“A little. But I was more concerned with the swerving.” He nodded at Greg. “I’m going to need your license and registration. Then I’d appreciate it if you would both get out of the vehicle.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” said Greg. “I wasn’t swerving or speeding.”
“Sir, I need you to get out of the vehicle.”
Taycee leaned even closer, her eyebrow raised. “C’mon, Ralph. You know me. I never drink and Greg hasn’t been drinking either.”
“I would never drink and drive,” spluttered Greg, as if the implication alone was horrifying. “I am a law-abiding citizen.”
“Great, then you won’t mind getting out.” Ralph opened the driver’s door and waited.
Taycee’s hand rested on Greg’s arm, keeping him in the car. This had gone far enough. Ralph was being ridiculous and she refused to play along. “We’ve done nothing wrong, Ralph and you know it. Are you sure it isn’t you who’s drunk?”
Probably not the smartest thing to say because Ralph’s expression hardened. His gaze flickered to Megan’s camera and then back to Taycee. Evidently he didn’t like being accused of drinking while on camera, especially while on duty. Well too bad for him. Taycee didn’t like being accused either.
“Unless you’d like me to update your mug shots, Ms. Emerson,” Ralph said, “I suggest you get out of the car now.”
Taycee’s mouth fell open. He did not just bring that up now. It had been over seven years. Seven! She’d been a teenager, for crying out loud. So much for thinking Ralph was a decent person. No Christmas poinsettia for him this year.
“Mug shots?” Greg’s horrified eyes turned on Taycee. “What’s he talking about?”
“Please. It happened a long time ago.” Taycee glared at Ralph. “It’s not even on my record anymore.”
“Will you two please step out of the car?” Ralph asked again.
“Fine.” Taycee shoved open her door and got out, walking around to confront Ralph head on. “Would you like me to walk the line or touch my nose? Or are you planning to use the breathalyzer?”
Greg got out of the car and folded his arms, staring at Taycee with accusing eyes. “How long ago, exactly, and why did they need mug shots?”
“Walking the line should be sufficient,” Ralph said.
Taycee started forward, and then stopped. “Wait a minute. Why do I have to do it? I wasn’t driving.”
“And I’m not drunk!” Greg practically shouted. “Now will someone please explain about the mug shots!”
“Oh for the love of Pete!” Taycee threw up her arms, shooting Ralph another glare. “In high school, I participated in a silly prank, okay? We spelled out the name of our school on a rival’s football field with Roundup and got caught.”
“You vandalized a school?” Greg looked appalled. “What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t thinking, obviously,” said Taycee. “It’s called a mistake, Greg. Surely you’ve made a mistake before.”
“Not bad enough to get a police record!”
“Taycee’s right,” Ralph interrupted. “She doesn’t need to walk the line, but you do.”
“No way,” said Greg. “I’m not about to be humiliated for something I haven’t done wrong.”
Ralph reached for his belt. “All right. I’ll have to cuff you and take you in.”
Taycee let out a breath of frustration. “Greg, just walk the dumb line so we can get out of here. And Ralph, I’m warning you…”
Greg glared at Taycee before he finally capitulated and walked several steps in a straight line. Then he turned to Ralph and spat, “There. Satisfied?”
“Looks like you two are good to go,” said Ralph, scribbling who knows what on his notepad. “Sorry to have troubled you, but I have a responsibility to keep our streets safe. Enjoy the rest of your night.” He plodded back to his car.
Without a word, Greg climbed in his car and waited for Taycee to do the same. They drove the last few blocks to her place in silence. When he walked her to her door, Taycee let out a breath and laid a hand on his arm. “Listen, Greg, I’m sorry about Ralph and that whole scene back there. But thank you for today. Up until a few minutes ago, I had a great time.”
“No problem.” Greg barely even looked at her.
Taycee waited another few seconds. When he said nothing more, she gave up and opened her door. Once inside her apartment, she resisted the urge to slam the door shut and leaned against it instead. How had she let things get so out of control? Why didn’t she just get out of the car when asked? Walk the line? Make Greg walk the line? Instead, she had to try and prove that she could talk the local sheriff out of giving them a ticket, like some sort of cliché hick-town girl.
Taycee walked over to her couch and plopped down on it, resting her forehead on her palms. What a night.
A light tap sounded her door.
Taycee groaned. What now? “It’s open,” she called.
The door swung open and Jessa’s voice intruded, “Hey Tace. Ready for your postdate interview?”
Chapter Twenty
Luke squinted out the diner window and into the bright morning sunlight. According to Liza, Sterling should have been here by now. His orange juice swirled in one hand while his fingers tapped the table with the other. C’mon, Sterling. Show yourself.
Although Ralph had gone a little overboard and things had gotten out of hand last night—at least according to Ralph—Luke was far from feeling sorry. The whole Missy fiasco aside, he could still smell the stench of manure every time he stepped out his front door. It now seemed to surround his house, and he couldn’t open his window at night like he used to.
Yeah, Taycee definitely deserved it. And then some.
One more prank, and he’d call it even. Although Taycee tried to hide it, Luke knew she struggled with Sterling. The opening social and video recaps of their dates made it obvious. The spi
tting issue. The forced conversation. The fact they seemed to have very little in common. It all combined to make Sterling the perfect choice. Now all Luke needed was a few minutes alone with him.
“Hey, Luke.” Liza stood next to his elbow, water pitcher in hand. “Need a refill?”
He eyed his nearly full glass, but nodded anyway. “Sure. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Her hand rested on his shoulder as she slowly poured the orange juice. “So, how ya been?”
“Good. And you?”
“Fine, thanks.” She sank onto the bench across from him and leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “My feet are killing me. You don’t mind if I rest them for a sec, do you?”
“Sure, go ahead.“ Luke peered out the window once more, but still no sign of Sterling.
“How’s business?”
“It’s going okay. Not as busy as I’d like, but things will pick up when I start advertising in neighboring towns.” Something he should be working on right now, in fact—if it wasn’t for Taycee and his inability to quit thinking and plotting about her.
“I just love animals.” Liza smiled. “In fact, I’d love to come and watch you work sometime.”
For whatever reason, a mental picture of Missy hover-ing at his side came to mind—an experience he didn’t want to repeat anytime soon. “You’re a pet owner?” Luke asked. She didn’t strike him as the type.
Liza shook her head. “Not right now, but I had a cat growing up.”
“I’ve always been a dog person myself.”
“You have a dog?”
“When I was younger,” Luke said. “Maybe once I’m settled I’ll consider getting another.”
“You’re not settled yet?” Liza perked up. “Need any help?”
Luke swirled his juice once again, darting another glance out the window. “No, but thanks for the offer. The house doesn’t need much work, and what it does need I can get done in my spare time.”
“I’m happy to make you curtains if you need them. Or anything like that. I’m actually pretty good at sewing.”
