Page 14 of Sweet Obsession
Taking a chance, she stood beside him, leaning against the porch railing as Sara and Alice sang loudly about friends in low places. “You didn’t get your voice from your grandmother,” Jillian teased.
As she’d hoped, the taunt brought a smile to his lips. “Poor Grams. Loves to sing, can’t carry a tune in a paper bag.”
A low squeal that should have been a note, made them both chuckle more heavily.
The opening notes of a familiar song filled the afternoon air, bringing her giggles to a stop. Blake’s voice, smooth and achingly familiar, began singing “Honeysuckle Memories.”
Blake froze, his expression shifting from surprise to something almost vulnerable.
“Oh my stars.” Mrs. Kirby clapped her hands together and leaned forward in her rocker. “It’s you, Blake.” Leaning back with a smile as wide as her face, the older woman set the rocker in motion. “I just love hearing you on the radio, but this is a new song.”
His gaze locked on something in the distance, Blake only nodded.
Sara pushed to her feet, and crossing the short distance to the railing, tugged her grandson beside her. “Where are your manners? A good song comes on and a boy should always ask his grandmother to dance.”
A smile, sweet, soft, and shaky, tugged at Blake’s lips. “Of course. May I?” Bowing at the waist, she waved an arm across in a wide gesture.
The song only halfway through, Sara Kirby sucked in a deep breath and took a step back. “I’m getting too old to make it through an entire song.” Stretching her arm, she snatchedJillian’s hand, tugged her into the space by Blake and took a step back.
Blake raised his brows, a silent question, seeking approval. She put on a smile and nodded, stepping into his embrace, and a small piece of heaven. Lost in the moment, she almost leaped backward when the phone in her pocket buzzed against her hip.
When the song came to an end, Sara Kirby popped up from her seat with a great deal more energy than Jillian would have expected after her confession of being too old to dance, and applauded loudly. Still holding her hand, Blake took a bow and smiled at his grandmother, then her, before letting go of her hand.
Mourning the end of the song, she took a few steps back, leaned against the far wall, and searched her phone.
Her mother and Mrs. Kirby singing along to another tune, she felt, more than heard, Blake come stand beside her. “Anything wrong?”
“Hmm?” She glanced up at him.
“You’re frowning.”
“Oh, no. Not really.”
“No, or not really?” His brows rose high on his forehead and his head tipped just slightly to the side.
“No,” she clarified. Just because she was enjoying having Blake around didn’t mean that a text from candidate number seven was a bad thing. So why didn’t she want to tell Blake that she was one step closer to finding a temporary husband?
Chapter Eight
Dinner was barely over when Alice Sweet folded her napkin with purpose. “I think I’ll ride down to the bunkhouse tonight. Picked up some new curtains in town yesterday for Clint’s quarters.”
A beat passed.
“You’re putting curtains in the bunkhouse?” Rachel blinked.
Carson muttered something under his breath that sounded something like,just what the man needs. A sweet but reproving smile on her face, his wife elbowed him.
Their mother shot Carson a frosty glare, making them all feel five years old again. “The man works harder than any of us. I can’t pay him more than pocket money. The least I can do is make his home a little nicer. Besides, the fabric was on sale and Liz sewed them for me.”
“Tell me there are no rhinestones or sequins on them.” Garrett’s mouth puckered as if he’d sucked on a lemon.
Alice Sweet rolled her eyes heavenward. “Tell me, Charlie, when did our kids become such wise acres?”
Garrett held his hands up, palms out. “Sorry, Mom. But Aunt Liz does sell an awful lot of bling in her store.”
“Selling it and making it for a ranch hand are two different things and would require an extra kind of stupid—and your aunts are not stupid.”
“My apologies.” Garrett glanced upward momentarily, as he extended his regrets to both parents.
