Page 4 of Small Town Boy

Her voice isn’t exactly shrill, but it’s not calm either. It’s also not panicked. At least not in a way that tells me that blood or bodily harm was involved. So, at least there’s that.

“I’m up at Georgia Tech for the day, remember? OSHA continuing ed class?”

“Yeah, right. Still doesn’t make sense why you have to be OSHA certified; you’re a landscaper.”

“And small business owner. Both Keller Landscaping and Keller Nursery are registered businesses with the state of Georgia, and there are requirements that come with that. We operate heavy machinery⁠—”

“Yeah, great, happy for you. I need you to do something for me.”

And there it is.

I can’t help but laugh, huffing out a breath. Only Willa. The woman has a heart twice the size of this state and cares deeper than most people will ever know. She also has a set of ovaries on her like nothing I’ve ever seen, taking brazen and bold to a whole new level. She can sass the pants right off you without blinking an eye.

“Willa, I repeat, I’m in Atlanta.”

“I know. That’s why I called. I need you to swing by the airport and pick up Bronwyn.”

Errr…who?

It’s like a record scratches in my brain, everything slamming to a halt. Should I know who Bronwyn is? And just why the fuck do I have to pick her up from the airport?

“You want me to do what now?”

“Pick up Bronwyn from the airport.”

“Who’s Bronwyn?”

“Oh my God!” she exclaims, this time her voice shrill. “Do y’all just not listen? I mean, for the love. Bronwyn. Bronwyn Ainsworth. Hayes’s new director of marketing.”

“Oh, right. The Yankee,” I say, the whole thing starting to ring a bell.

“Noel Joshua Keller. Don’t you dare call her that to her face!”

I shrug, not that Willa can see me, not understanding what the big deal is. “Why am I picking her up?”

“Long story, but Gus’s flight is canceled and her rental was stolen and basically this is the worst first impression the great state of Georgia could possibly be giving our girl, and I need you to please pick her up, drive her to Hickory Hills, and wow her with some southern hospitality.”

“I am not the Welcome Wagon.”

“You are today!”

Her declaration makes it clear there is no room for discussion. Which shouldn’t surprise me. What Willa wants, Willa gets. And, in this case, that’s me making a pit stop at the airport on my already long journey back to middle Georgia to pick up a woman I have never met. Is it too much to hope that she’s a light packer?

“Fine.”

My curt response is cut off by Willa’s squeal and profuse thank you. I laugh to myself that she would think I’d do anything but give in. She, Kenzie, and Sylvie all know that I’d stop the world and spin it backward if they needed it.

“I owe you. Seriously,” Willa adds in. “I’m texting her right now, letting her know to watch out for your green truck. I assume that’s what you drove up there.”

“Haven’t driven anything else in the last fifteen years.”

My eyes flick over to my green 1974 Chevy C10, shining in the sunlight. She may be old enough to be my mother, but she runs like she just came off the line. She’s also sturdy and reliable at hauling everything I need.

“Right. Okay, I’ll find out what door she’ll be at and text it to you.”

“It’s gonna be a minute before I get there. I’m up at Tech, and with rush hour startin’ early up here, I bet it takes me at least forty minutes to get down to the airport.”

“Just get there as fast as you can. Thanks, Noel!”