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“But what about Marlowe?”
Emma shook her head. “I don’t know if there is anything there. I mean, she and Macey obviously both have eyes for him, but to be honest, I don’t want to see either of them dating an older guy like him after you know who. Besides, he left almost as soon as I came back in and smacked the back of his head.”
“You did?”
She patted my leg. “That’s what we do for friends.”
I grinned before letting out a gigantic breath. “What should I do?”
“Work it, girl.” Jenna snapped her fingers.
“I can’t watch this.” Aspen jumped up. “Men are evil.”
I paid her no mind and focused on Jenna and Emma. “Work what?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Come on Shelby, you ooze sexual fantasy.”
I waved them off and giggled.
“We aren’t joking.” Jenna took Aspen’s vacated seat next to me. “But you’re going to have to liven back up. You need to be perky Shelby who showed up last summer. Not sullen Shelby.”
“Yes, and use your leaning skills on him,” Emma said, half annoyed.
“Leaning skills?”
“You know what I’m talking about. That flirty way you lean into men and touch them and laugh at all the right moments. You’re a master at that.”
“But you’re going to have to be subtle,” Jenna cautioned. “You can’t just come right at him after everything that’s gone on between you.”
My head ping-ponged between the two.
“True,” Emma agreed. “I think it would be better for now if you only reminded him exactly what he’s missing. Be flirty and fun, like the real you, but project that onto the people around him.”
I had been kind of a downer lately, but when you find out you ruined the best thing in your life, it kind of does something to you. “Okay. I think I can do that. What if that doesn’t work?”
They collectively sighed.
Emma shrugged. “Shelby, I’ve seen you in action, and if you can’t convince him then . . . well . . . we’ll order another cockroach and make sure he dies this time. You’ll have to say goodbye and move on.”
I snuggled Elliot closer and nodded. Emma was right, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.Chapter FourteenI took Emma’s and Jenna’s advice to heart. Sunday morning, I woke up perky with a plan. There was no better way to a Southern boy’s heart than through his stomach. Not Ryder’s, per se, but Bobby Jay’s. I got up extra early and made homemade biscuits. Bobby Jay could eat an entire dozen by himself. Not only that, but I broke out one of the jars of homemade peach jam I had made last year using Ryder’s momma’s recipe. Who knew Edenvale was known for their peach orchards? The peaches were nothing like back home, but they were tasty, and they made incredible jam. My heart pricked thinking about Momma Jo.
One of these days I really did need to call her. I needed to apologize to Ryder first. Then his momma. But Emma and Jenna were right, I needed to finesse the situation. I’m not sure how much my apology would mean to him right now. Though I wanted nothing more than to tell him how sorry I was.
After I made two dozen biscuits, I dressed in Ryder’s favorite red sundress. It was sleeveless and short, his favorite combination when it came to clothing. I wore my long hair down in waterfall curls. Ryder loved when I let my hair fall loose. It always ended up that way regardless. Oh, man, did I miss his hands running through my hair and over all my curves. I fanned myself. Goodness, did I need some Jesus this morning. I would go to church after I made my delivery.
While I was filling my basket with biscuits and jam, Mr. Carrington joined me in the kitchen. “Good morning, Shelby.”
“Good morning.” I placed a plate of biscuits in front of him on the breakfast bar, including a jar of jam. “I know Frankie will be bringing you breakfast, but I hope you like these.”
“They smell wonderful.”
“Thanks.” I finished rearranging my basket. I wanted everything to look perfect against the red checkered background.
“You’re chipper today.”
I smiled up at him. “I’m trying to be.”
He tilted his head. “I’ve heard some rumblings about an old beau. I’m assuming the biscuits are for him.”
I swallowed hard. “Not exactly, but hopefully.” I knew that made no sense, but the twinkle in Mr. Carrington’s eyes said he understood.
“Oh, the games we play.” He grinned.
“I’m not playing . . . I mean . . .”
“Honey,” he stopped my rambling, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’ve been there a time or two, especially with my Shannon.” Longing filled his words. “I hope the man you’re going to all the trouble for is worth it.”
“He is.”
He took a bite of a biscuit and childlike wonder filled his eyes. “Don’t tell Frankie, but these are the best biscuits I’ve ever had. Your beau is a lucky man.”
