Page 49 of Snowed In With the Maverick
She squeezed her eyes shut, recalling the other kernel of a feeling she’d done her best to ignore that night. She’d known she was falling in love with Seth. But she hadn’t been ready to confront that truth.
She looked away from JenniLynn. “I’m sure it’s just a busy time for his business,” Andrea said, doing her best to keep her tone light and even. It was time to change the subject. “Listen, do you think people would prefer scones with lemon curd as another dessert option or a chocolate torte?”
JenniLynn raised an eyebrow. “Or—”
“Both,” they said in unison, and for the first time in days, Andrea laughed.
And despite the ache in her heart at what she knew was a gentle push from JenniLynn, a push she intended to ignore, it felt pretty good.
* * *
Seth pushed a wheelbarrow into the barn, where he found Buck scrubbing the inside of a trough with a stiff metal brush, headphones over his ears and humming to himself.
He was happy that Buck was distracted. It seemed like everywhere he went in the past week, people were eager to shoot the shit, and he didn’t feel much like talking.
Buck looked up as Seth entered and shoved the headphones aside. No such luck.
“Hey, Seth,” Buck said.
“Buck,” Seth said, tipping his head slightly, hoping Buck would be content to turn his attention back to his work.
“How’re you doing?” Buck asked.
“Fine, you?” Seth said.
“Can’t complain,” said Buck. He dropped the brush into the trough with a clatter and wiped his hands on his jeans. “You, on the other hand, have been sulking around here like a teenager who’s been grounded the night of the big party. What gives?”
“I’m fine,” muttered Seth, grabbing a bag of feed from a stack piled up near the entrance.
He knew exactly the look that Buck was giving him, but what was he supposed to say? That he’d spent the past week chiding himself for how he managed Thanksgiving with Andrea? That he’d wanted to pick up the phone a million times to call her, but couldn’t take the inevitable cold shoulder that she was likely to serve up in return? That he’d screwed up the most perfect thing he’d never known he needed in his life?
“If what I’m hearing from your brother is to be trusted,” Buck said, “this has something to do with that lady who’s lately had you grinning as wide as the sky above.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Buck,” Seth said, slitting the top of the feed bag open with a pocketknife and emptying the contents into the wheelbarrow. Talking wasn’t going to do any good. Best to just pretend none of it had ever happened and move the heck on with his life.
“That’s fine. I can talk, and you can listen.”
Despite his annoyance, Seth chuckled. Most people who meddled in his business he would just tell to go straight to hell, but Buck wasn’t one of them. “Alright,” he said.
“Now, as you know, not only am I irresistible to the ladies,” Buck said, raising an eyebrow and pretending to flex a bicep under his dusty work jacket, “but on the rare occasion I bungle things up, I know a thing or two about how to get the girl back.”
“Oh yeah?” said Seth. He opened another bag and added it to the wheelbarrow. “Illuminate me.”
“You need not go any further than the best film decade of all time for some ideas. In my mind, the strategies fall into three neat categories.”
Seth rolled his eyes and leaned against the stall door. Buck wasn’t going to let him go until he had the opportunity to philosophize about his beloved ’80s films.
“Just hear me out,” Buck said. He held up a finger. “Number one—the public declaration slash epic speech. Ronald Miller standing up for Cindy inCan’t Buy Me Love. Jake Ryan showing up after Sam’s disastrous birthday inSixteen Candles. Shows vulnerability. Determination.”
“I don’t do public displays,” Seth said, the irony of his Thanksgiving dinner speech in front of his entire family landing like a brick. He grimaced at the memory.
“Okay, okay,” said Buck. “Number two—the over-the-top gesture. Duckie showing up at prom to support Andie, despite knowing she loves Blane inPretty in Pink. Lloyd Dobler’s boom box serenade.”
“Too showy,” Seth said. He tossed the empty feed bags in the trash and calculated how long he’d have to listen to any more of Buck’s dumb advice before he could make a polite exit. “Nuh-uh.”
“Then I think,” Buck said, “you’d be best to go with number three—the chase.”
“You think I should stalk her?”
