Page 3 of Sipping Seduction
“They’re from a friend.”
“Friends don’t order big-ass bouquets for each other.” She shook her head, not buying my explanation for a second.
“That’s not true. When you won the award for School Counselor of the Year, I sent you flowers.” Knowing she wouldn’t agree that was the same at all, I rounded my desk and slipped the card into the top drawer.
“Don’t try to pull that crap with me. You’ve got a guy, and if you don’t tell me who it is, I’m going to start asking around. Someone has to know something. This town’s way too small to be able to keep a secret this juicy.” Charice arched an eyebrow. She knew she had me.
I’d rather die a thousand deaths than have my private life become a hot topic of conversation around Beaver Bluff. People talked about me enough already. I was constantly fielding questions about why a nice girl like me hadn’t settled down yet. The rest of the world might have progressed into the twenty-first century, but sometimes it seemed like Beaver Bluff had been stuck in the 1950s.
“Fine.” I moved closer, lowering my voice. “You can’t tell a single soul, though. Do you promise?”
Her eyes lit up with anticipation. “Of course.”
“Say it.” Though I trusted Charice more than anyone else—anyone except Evan—I still needed to hear her say the words out loud.
“I promise to keep your secret.” She mimed locking her lips and tossing the key over her shoulder. “Now spill.”
I closed the door to my office, shutting out the curious looks from the school’s attendance clerk. “It’s new. We met over the summer at the watermelon festival in Bordent. Remember? I begged you to go with me, but you had something more important to do.”
“It was my mom and dad’s thirty-fifth wedding anniversary dinner.” Charice’s eyes widened. “You can’t hold that against me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right. What it was doesn’t matter. What matters is, I went by myself and ended up hanging out with this guy.”
“And?” Charice sat down at the small round table in my office. “Tell me everything.”
I took the seat across from her. “He was nice. We paired up for the watermelon seed spitting contest, and he asked if he could call me.”
Her brows furrowed with disappointment. “There’s got to be more. A man doesn’t send flowers like that if all you did was spit seeds together.”
“We met up for a couple of hikes. Then I saw him again in Asheville when I took my dad on that weekend trip to tour the Biltmore.”
Charice bounced in her chair. “Now we’re getting somewhere. You had a weekend fling with him? Who is he?”
“No weekend fling. Dad and I stayed with my cousin, and he was in a hotel. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time.”
“What’s wrong with him?” The expression on her face said it all. Brows drawn, lips twisted into a grimace, she knew me well enough to know I was hiding something.
“Nothing’s wrong with him. We’re taking things slow.”
“Honey, you take things any slower and your hoo-haw is going to have so many cobwebs blocking the entrance, you’ll never be able to have a man.”
“Charice! Keep your voice down. We’re at school.” I ground my molars together. She wouldn’t give up until I told her everything. Charice had the tenacity of a coonhound who’d cornered a rabbit and wouldn’t give up.
“If you’d tell me what’s going on with you and Mr. Flowers, I wouldn’t get so worked up.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. “Last chance, Masterson.”
“Not a word to anyone.”
She nodded.
“I’m serious. No one can know.”
Her brows lifted, but she nodded again.
I got up and paced the short distance between the table and my desk. “Like I said, it’s new. He’s a nice guy and we have a lot in common. And I’m getting older. I thought I’d be settled down by now with at least one kid on my hip and another on the way.”
Charice’s eyes softened. “You’re not even thirty yet. You’ve got plenty of time.”
“That’s easy for you to say. Your dad’s not breathing fire down your neck and asking about grandbabies.”
