“Salt’s on aisle three, ladies,” she says. “Tell Caroline I said to watch her step on that porch, but her cookies are welcome to fall off a truck in my direction anytime.”
“I will,” Faith says with a small smile. “Thank you, Penny.”
Her voice makes my heart skip a beat. It’s still soft, still polite, but there’s more in it now. More weight. More… tired, if I’m honest. Every syllable has to pass through the last few weeks before it makes it out of her mouth.
“We should let you…” she gestures vaguely at the grain on my shoulder, “do your thing.”
She tucks a loose curl behind her ear, eyes flicking briefly to my mouth before she looks away. A spark across raw nerves.
“See you around,” she says, and turns with Charlotte toward aisle three.
“Bye, Dallas!” Charlotte sing-songs, wiggling her fingers as she goes. Then, over her shoulder: “Don’t be a stranger!”
Faith elbows her again, but she’s laughing now. The sound snags in my chest.
They disappear down the aisle, voices dropping as they consult bags of ice melt as if it’s a serious scientific choice.
Virgil steps up beside me, arms folded, watching them go.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says. “Little Faith Ross is back in town.”
“Not so little,” Penny says under her breath, still observing with undisguised interest. “She grew right up, huh?”
I resist the urge to glare. “Watch it.”
She lifts both hands, grinning. “What? I meant height-wise.”
Virgil cuts a look at me. “You look like you just stepped on a rake.”
“That obvious?” I grunt.
“Your ears are redder’n your face,” he says. “Only time I’ve seen that look is when a man’s either seen Jesus or trouble. And I don’t think that girl’s the Lord.”
Penny snorts. “Depends who you ask.”
“Mind your business,” I mutter.
“This is my business,” she says cheerfully. “You McCoy boys provide me with at least seventy percent of my entertainment, November through March. Gossip is the only thing that keeps us from freezing to death.”
“Penny,” Virgil warns, though he’s fighting a smile.
“What?” She shrugs. “I’m just saying, Faith looked like she’d seen a ghost, too. A handsome, six-foot-three, annoyingly noble ghost.”
“Five,” I correct automatically.
She arches a brow. “You measure yourself lately?”
I glare at both of them in turn. “You want me to finish loading this truck or not?”
“Go on,” Virgil says, still chuckling. “Before Penny gets herself fired.”
“You’d die without me,” she shoots back.
He doesn’t disagree.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Faith
