Florence snaps her fingers. “That’s the one. How come you haven’t gotten me one of those? The shimmering ostrich leather is to die for.” If Birdie were here, she’d remind us that an animal did, in fact, die to make it. “I might be more inclined to share the juicier gossip if you brought better gifts.”
Charlie presses her lips together as she pulls a small robin’s-egg blue box from her purse. “I take it you’re not interested in what’s inside?” she questions, dangling the box in front of Florence.
“Nonsense.” Florence snatches the box and unties the ribbon. “I don’t discriminate against luxury.”
Charlie laughs. “Figured.”
Florence pulls out a delicate silver chain with a small heart-shaped pendant dangling from it.
“A heart tag bracelet,” Florence exclaims as she slides it on. “It’s lovely.
“Better than MaryAnn’s trinkets?” Charlie challenges.
“Without question,” she says, sliding it on her wrist with a grin.
Charlie drops onto the chair’s armrest. “So what’s this gossip you’ve got for me?”
Florence glances around the room, then crooks a finger for Charlie to lean in. “MaryAnn shared a juicy tidbit from Lasso & Latte about a certainsomeonegetting married to a certain ranch owner.” She pins me with a knowing look. “I told her she was a fool for believing every rumor, but that rock on your finger and the scowling cowboy standing behind you make me think I’ll have to eat a slice of humble pie and apologize.”
Charlie drags a hand down her face. “Is that all she said?”
Florence smiles smugly. “If you’re asking whether she mentioned the bun in your oven courtesy of that cowboy of yours, the answer is yes.”
“The name is Heath, ma’am,” I grumble, no longer able to stay silent.
But she already knows that since she’s lived in Bluebell her whole life and is well acquainted with my family.
Florence snaps her head in my direction. “Oh, the cowboy wants to join in, does he? How delightful. I’ve never trusted a man with a beard. Though there was one fellow I met at a bar who put his to good use in the bathroom stall. Shame he robbed me. Probably explains why I prefer women these days.”
“Florence,” Charlie scolds.
She shrugs. “What? If he’s half as good with his tongue as he looks, it explains how you got knocked up by the man you argue with constantly.” My eyes widen as Florence fixes her gaze on me. “Got a better explanation, cowboy?”
“A charming personality and excellent swimmers,” I deadpan.
Charlie buries her head in her hands. “Oh my god. Please make it stop.”
Florence barks out a laugh. “Oh, this is child’s play compared to the interrogation your grandma’s about to unleash on him.”
I swallow hard, seriously considering grabbing Charlie and bolting for the exit.
“How much does she—”
“Charlie Rae Bennett!”
“Oh shit,” Charlie mutters.
Her grandma walks toward us, cane clicking against the wood floor. She may be calling Charlie’s name, but her icy glare is aimed straight at me.
Florence cranes her neck around Charlie. “I told you her boobs looked perkier the last time she was here, Kay, but oh no—you said I was imagining things.”
My jaw nearly drops at how freely she speaks. Then again, at her age, she’s earned the right.
Charlie’s grandma puts a hand on her hip. “If you’d stop putting off that cataract surgery, maybe I would have believed you.”
Curiosity wins out, and I steal a glance at Charlie’s chest. I’ve only seen her naked once, but her boobs do look spectacular in her low-cut graphic tee, the vintage rodeo print with a bucking horse very fitting for the situation.
“Are you checking out my rack?” she demands.
