Page 38 of Sweet Temptation

“Brad? Having some trouble?” Diane asked mildly, taking in the state of his shoes with detached interest.

“Diane…Wha, what are you doing here?” Subtly he tried to shift so Angela wasn’t directly in Diane’s line of sight.

“Brad!” Jackie exclaimed with forced cheerfulness. “What a surprise seeing you here. Enjoying the local… uh… atmosphere?” She wrinkled her nose slightly.

He looked frantically between his composed wife and his smiling ex.

“Everything all right here, honey?” Angela stepped closer to Brad again, completing the triangle of women surrounding him.

As Brad, utterly flustered and hemmed in, stuttered to find words, Rachel materialized holding two enormous Sno-Cones, dripping with luridly blue and sticky-red syrup.

“Coming through!” Rachel called out, swerving about like the town drunk, evading low scrambling critters, and with a dramatic flair worthy of an Academy Award, proceeded to lose her balance, stumbling directly into his path.

The blue Sno-Cone met Brad’s neatly pressed white tailored shirt, leaving a massive, rapidly spreading stain. The red iced treat made glancing contact with his perfectly styled hair, depositing a sticky, melting glob near his temple.

“Oh, my stars! I amsosorry!” Rachel gasped, dropping the now-empty paper cones. “They’re just so slippery! Are you okay?”

Brad sputtered, trying to swipe the sticky syrup from his hair, only smearing it further. He looked down at the vibrant blue and red masterpiece blooming across his shirt, dripping down his paint leg, and onto his manure-caked shoes. His face was a thundercloud.

“First manure, now Sno-Cones.” Alice shook her head as she and Eleanor caught up. “This poor young man is having the worst day.”

“Indeed.” Eleanor’s eyes sparkling with amusement. “Almost seems like the universe is trying to tell him something.”

Attracted to the sweet scent of syrupy ice, every four-legged animal within the pen raced in his direction. One goat merrily chewed on a loafer tassel—amazing that goats could eat anything no matter what they were covered in—while another licked at his pants. Soon baby lambs and bunnies surrounded him, all interested in an early-afternoon snack.

Garret had to admit, the ladies couldn’t have pulled this off more smoothly had they been professional stuntmen. The coordination was precise and the results… entertaining.

It was at that precise moment, with Brad looking like a Jackson Pollock painting attacked by farm animals, that the unmistakable rumble of a truck echoed from the road, red and blue lights to match his stained clothing beginning their rhythmic flash.

Kicking at the growing menagerie of animals at his heels, and swiping at the syrup sticky mess dripping from his hair, Brad glanced up to see the…“Tow truck?” His eyes widened in fresh horror as the driver began hooking the truck to his Maserati. Galloping to the curb, animals, manure, and sticky mess forgotten, he came to a screeching halt by the drive. “That’s my car!”

“Shouldn’t have parked it in a fire lane,” the tow truck driver yelled back calmly.

His head whipping left to where the car should have been and then right to where the tow truck driver connected a hook with his precious car, Brad’s gaze narrowed, the muscle in his jaw twitched and through gritted teeth, he argued, “I’ll pay the ticket. Just unhook it.”

“Sorry sir, you’ll have to deal with the county judge to get your car back.”

Brad fumbled for his wallet and pulled out a hundred dollar bill, waving it at the driver. “Surely we can come to an understanding.”

“Something wrong here?” The sheriff strolled to a stop at the passenger’s side.

“I believe this man,” the driver pointed at Brad, “intends to bribe me into not towing his car.”

“Is he?” The sheriff crossed his arms and stared pointedly at Brad.

Slowly putting his wallet back in his pocket, Brad shook his head. “No, sir. Wouldn’t think of it.”

The sheriff slapped the driver on the back. “You have a good day, Bill.”

“Same to you, Sheriff.”

The officer tipped his hat at the ladies and continued down the sidewalk.

Standing in what had been his parking spot, his gaze lingering on the tail end of his precious car as the rear fender jolted over a bump in the road, even from where he stood, Garret could hear Brad wince, seconds before whirling around to face the three women. “This is all your doing.”

A crisp, legal-sized envelope in hand, Diane waved it at him.

“What’s this?” His gaze focused on the manila envelope much the way he might stare at a rattler about to strike.

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