Page 31 of For Love Or Honey

“Not because we’re buddies.”

“Fooled half the town.”

“I have to play his game.”

“You’re playing games with him and everybody.”

You’re playing games with me, her eyes said.

I was, and I wasn’t. But I couldn’t tell her that either. “Can I tell you something?”

“Depends. Can I hit you if I don’t like what I hear?”

“Deal.”

A pause. “Well, go ahead.”

I took a step closer so I could speak where only she could hear. Where I could be honest in the greatest capacity I was capable of. “These days I’ve spent with you are some of the most honest days I’ve ever had.”

Her hard expression softened, first at her eyes, then her lips, then her shoulders.

A smile tugged at one corner of my lips. “Gonna hit me?”

With a huff, she rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. “Buy our Cokes, and I’ll let you off the hook.”

I followed her toward the concession stand. “I thought they wanted Dr. Pepper.”

“They do. We just call it all Coke.”

“What do you call Coke?”

“Coke. What do you call it? Pop or something stupid like that?”

“Pop is worse than calling all carbonated beverages Coke?”

“Pop’s for Yankees and Canadians.”

“Well, guess I’m in luck. We call it soda.”

When we pulled up to the end of the line, she gave me a little smirk. “I’ll allow it.”

I shook my head. “That look spells trouble, usually for me. Which reminds me—what’s my next torture?”

“Two-stepping, tomorrow night.”

I kept my face still when my insides flinched. “At least it’s not line dancing.”

“Oh, you’re learning that too. But we’ll start with the two-step. Wear those jeans and your good pearl snap.”

“They’re all brand new.”

“Then I guess you’ve got options.”

“What about singing with the band?”

“Oh, they’ll be fine without me. You, however, have a lesson to learn.”

“And what’s that?” I asked.

“That you’re not good at everything.”

“I’m good at most things.”

“But not everything. And I’m gonna find your weakness and exploit it for all it’s worth.”

She laughed, and so did I, but the words rang true for a different reason for me. It drew a line beneath my intentions, underscoring the ugly root of its meaning.

Because I didn’t want to exploit her, not anymore.

The realization was painful, twisting my stomach into knots. My plan, the plan I’d deployed time after time, town after town, might not get me through Lindenbach, but not for the reasons I’d imagined.

But because this town had somehow gotten its hooks in me.

And there was no plan in existence for that.

13

Don't Worry

JO

So lemme get this straight,” my cousin Presley said as we worked our way down a row of flowers in our fields, harvesting for bouquets. “When y’all were at Wyatt’s, you took your shirt off, he nearly kissed you, and then you all jumped in a pond together?”

“After he picked me up and spun me around. Yes.”

Poppy eyeballed me. “I cannot imagine where in the hell you lost your mind. He wants our farm.”

“Technically, he wants what’s under it.”

“Oh my god,” Poppy groaned. “Somebody talk some sense into her before I beat it into her.”

Daisy laughed. “Oh, what’s the big deal? We’re not selling. There’s no danger of Jo actually dating him since he’s leaving anyway. Let her have fun, Poppy.”

“Yeah, let me have fun, Poppy,” I teased, enjoying the view of my sister all riled up.

Poppy squished an overripe mum head and threw a clump of petals at me that broke apart like confetti as it reached me.

“Daisy’s right—there’s no danger of anything serious. And if you’d seen the general length and girth of his anaconda, you’d be willing to set your scruples aside too.”

“Must be some dick,” Presley said.

“It looked like he had a baby arm just like—” I put my elbow near my crotch and waved my hand around to a chorus of laughter. “Listen, if he hadn’t looked like he did in those jeans, I don’t know if we’d be having this conversation.”

“It can’t just be about the way he looks,” Daisy said.

“Can’t it?” I challenged.

“No. Because you had fun with him at Wyatt’s, and I saw you last night with him. You like him.”

I sighed, snipping mums and depositing them into the basket I shared with Presley. “When he’s all decked out, it’s like … I don’t know. I can almost pretend like he’s someone else. He doesn’t act the same either, not like when he’s in a suit and has that look on his face like he wouldn’t know happy if it bit him in the ass. But he … at Wyatt’s he was having fun, and that changed just about everything about him.”

“Well, it sounds like your grand plan to make him look like an ass is working out great,” Poppy snarked, snipping her flowers with what I could only describe as hostility. “Sounds like he’s just absolutely humiliated.”

“Don’t worry. His next lesson is in two-stepping. He’s gonna fold like a bad hand.” I paused in thought. “I oughta get him a bolo tie,” I said.

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