Page 17 of Sipping Seduction
Usually, we had dinner and then went to the games together, but I didn’t blame her for wanting to get started on packing up her stuff. Based on what happened between us tonight, we could probably do with a few hours apart. I knew I needed some time to process everything she’d said.
“My offer stands. I really wouldn’t mind you and Pete the Dog moving in for a month. It might even be fun.” I grabbed the check and cash from the table to hand over to Pappy on the way out. I might not be going home with Frannie, but I still planned on walking her to her car.
“Can I let you know tomorrow? They’re giving me a week to pack up and get out.”
I shook my head. This might be my last chance. “Just say yes, Frannie. I’m your best friend. There’s nobody better to put up with you and Pete the Dog, and you know it.”
She took in a deep breath. “Okay. Yes. Thank you so much.”
Pulling her into my arms for a goodbye hug, I couldn’t believe we were going to have a whole month together. By the time it was done, I planned on erasing any memories of Andrew Fucking Stewart from her mind. I was also going to double down on my workouts and push myself until I was in better shape than I’d been in the day I shipped out.
A month from now, I’d be telling Frannie exactly how I felt about her and why I needed to be the one waiting for her at the end of the aisle.
CHAPTER8
Frannie
Except for takinga break for my date with Andrew at the vineyard, I spent every free moment of the next week packing up everything I owned. I’d been living in the small bungalow for almost five years. During that time, my dad had sold the house I grew up in to move into a senior living facility, and I’d filled my spare bedroom with furniture and mementos from my childhood home that I’d be able to use someday.
I was tempted to take my time and enjoy the memories that surfaced as I sorted through boxes and bins I hadn’t seen in years. There wasn’t time for that. I promised myself I’d do that when I moved everything back in, though I couldn’t fight the temptation to look through the box of photo albums and yearbooks I’d saved from high school.
Evan’s face smiled up at me from hundreds of pictures we’d snapped while growing up together. I couldn’t remember a time before I met him. He’d always been my constant, the one person I’d always been able to count on for anything. Until he wasn’t.
I picked up an envelope he’d sent me while he was stationed overseas. He hated writing letters, but internet was spotty and we rarely got to talk on the phone so I’d made him promise to write to me. Every week, during multiple deployments, he sent a letter. Sometimes he just jotted down a sentence or two, but other times he filled several pages with his barely legible print.
I’d been so worried about him while he was gone. His first deployment was shortly after we’d lost my mom. I’d wanted to beg him not to go, to stay home where I could see him every day and know that he was safe. I didn’t, of course.
He’d needed to get away from Beaver Bluff for a little while, out from under the pressure of being a Bishop in a town where everyone knew everything about him. How could I argue against that?
I stuffed the letter back into the envelope and closed the box. Evan had volunteered to help me move a bunch of things into storage today and would be pulling up any minute. No telling how many trips it would take to get my stuff to the storage unit. I’d had a hard time figuring out what I needed to take with me and what I could live without for the next month.
A knock sounded at the door, then he poked his head through the doorway. “Hey, you about ready?”
He wore a Devil’s Dance Distillery baseball cap over his closely cropped hair. Even though he’d been out of the Army for a couple of years, he still kept his hair short.
“Come on in. I don’t know how many trips it’s going to take us to get all this stuff over there.” I stood in the middle of my living room. Boxes full of books stacked against the wall. I still had two whole bookshelves to empty, along with the curio cabinet that had belonged to my mother.
“Whoa, Frannigan. What have you been doing all week?” Evan’s gaze swept around the room.
Based on the ways his brows arched and his lips curved down, he wasn’t impressed with my efforts. “Hey, I’ve been working my butt off. The kitchen and bedrooms are done. I just need to get this room packed up.”
“You know my place isn’t that big, right?” Evan cocked a hip and shook his head. “Where the hell are we going to put all of this stuff?”
Pete the Dog scratched at the back door. I left Evan standing in the living room while I went to let him in. “I’m putting almost everything in storage. Don’t worry, I’m not going to redecorate your bachelor pad, though it could use some updating.”
“Updating, huh?” Evan followed me to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. “Are you saying you don’t like my style?”
“And what style is that, exactly?” I bent down to wipe Pete the Dog’s paws. It had rained overnight, so my backyard was full of mud puddles.
“Bachelor chic,” Evan said. “It’s a mix between minimalism and nostalgia.”
I rolled my eyes as I stood, muddy towel in hand. “Bachelor chic?”
“Yeah. Obviously, you’ve never heard of it because you’re not a bachelor.” He crinkled his nose and smiled. “I’m sure Pete the Dog will be comfortable there. You might need to bring one of your quilts or something if you want to feel more at home.”
“Don’t start making fun of my quilts.” He knew better than to go there. My Grandma Masterson had won multiple ribbons at the state fair, and the two quilts she gave me, along with my mom’s favorite salt shaker from her collection, were among my most prized possessions. Evan knew better than to tease.
“I’m just hoping you’re bringing the beaver quilt with you. I’ve always wanted to have dozens of beavers in my house at once.”
