Page 24 of Safe With Me
So in my downtime, which Scott said I could use however I wanted as long as shit got done, I shopped for items for my newly reserved booth at the Thomasville Livi & Co. The first weekend after I’d worked for Scott for two days, Sara and I had gone scouting. I’d walked through every shop downtown so I didn’t duplicate their wares.
Plus, I needed to tell her why there would be no more Saturday night outings (or nights in) that included both me and Tate.
With gorgeous weather, we sat outside Sweetgrass Dairy, and I spilled the entire story, omitting nothing but Tick’s name when grousing about how he’d confronted me that last time.
Sara stared at me, wine glass halfway to her lips. “You are kidding me.”
“Nope.” I settled deeper into the curve of my metal chair. A breeze flirted with the edges of the canopy above us, and a steady stream of shoppers moved up and down the sidewalk, weaving around the line for chili dogs at the pool hall next door. A car rumbled over the brick street.
Her eyes narrowed. “I should have Trace cut him off.”
I smiled at that. “No, you should not.”
I’d cut him off well enough. He hadn’t quite received the message, leaving more cut flowers or plants on my porch. Each time, I told myself I should dump them, but neither the lacy fern nor the gorgeous carnations and mums had called me a bitch.
The flowers fell prey to my latest obsession – pressing – and maybe I crushed them like I wanted to do to his face.
Sara swirled her wine, sunlight glimmering on the pale liquid, and studied me. “You’re sure you don’t want anything to do with him since he wised up?”
I snagged a roasted pecan from our cheese board. “Why would you even ask that?”
“Because you’ve had a crush on him for years.”
Narrowly avoiding choking on the pecan, I shot a sharp look at my dearest friend and sighed. Of course I hadn’t hidden my feelings about him from her well. This was Sara. We’ve been friends since Methodist preschool.
“I had a crush on who I thought he was.” I balled up my napkin and dropped it by my plate. “Not who he turned out to be.”
“I wouldn’t want you to miss out on–”
“I’m not.” On a snort, I lifted a brow. “I ammoving on.”
No more pointless pining for me. Sure, the way he’d looked in my living room, coming apart, I could probably have him.
But did I want what my sister had tainted?
Uh, no.
I lifted my wine, my sip closer to a gulp. “I have a date next Friday.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “Really.”
“I do.” I waved my glass in a circle. “I reactivated my Locals app and made my profile private. I connected with one of Thomas County’s assistant football coaches. He had to wait until after the final playoff game last night for us to go out.”
“As long as his priorities are straight,” Sara drawled, heavy on the wry humor. Trace coached football – so she got it.
Ending lunch on that note of humor, we continued our day, and I left her house after dropping her off excited about what I could do with the space at Livi’s. I’d barely turned out of her drive when my smart hub screen lit up with Daddy’s number. I launched the call from my steering wheel. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Tilda showed me some of those emails.” His voice shook and I winced. I hated for him to be upset. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I tried. Gripping the wheel, I sighed. “Daddy, if you remember, I mentioned the first ones.”
“I wished you’d shown me.” Regret soaked his unsteady words.
“I know she’s your baby. I didn’t want to make you choose.” And I wanted her to choose me over her views. Yeah, that was going to happen.
“Well, she won’t be filming anything else in my goddamn store.”
“Daddy.” Eyes wide, I flicked my blinker on and slowed to turn onto my street. Oh, I knew he cussed, but my daddy did not take the Lord’s name in vain. “You signed one of her releases.”
