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We’d see if I could hypnotize a town. Or at least the gatekeeper.
I saw her as I crossed the street, setting up a booth directly across from mine with her sisters and mother. Their display was quaint but modern—racks of bouquets flanked shelves of honey, and in front of them sat trays of biscuits and samplers. They didn’t wear branded clothing—they did however have on anti-fracking T-shirts—and they didn’t have a sign. They didn’t need one. Everyone here knew them and had been buying their honey right here, in this spot, for nearly two-hundred years.
But in all the time I’d spent assessing their booth, none of them had looked at me. They were too busy scowling across the way. At my booth.
Which, at present, was manned by three blondes who I suspected were too young to drink in Flexion crop tops, jean shorts short enough to catch a hearty view of their asses, and T-shirt cannons in small, tan hands.
I schooled my temper as I approached, listing out the names of what idiot had signed off on sending co-eds to shoot fucking T-shirts into a small town festival. Because somebody was catching hell for this.
If I’d needed help convincing the half of the town that would be happy to see half-naked girls bouncing around to Whitesnake, it’d be one thing. But I needed to win over the half that would look at our booth just like the Blums were. All except for Jo, who had spotted me long enough to have harpooned me with her gaze.
I smiled. Her eyes narrowed. I tipped an imaginary hat, and she rolled her eyes hard enough to see the swingset behind her.
So rather than head to my booth, I strode to theirs.
Nearly in unison, the rest of the Blums looked in my direction, stiff as a matching set of rulers.
“Morning, ladies.”
“Morning—ow!” Daisy scowled at Poppy, who said, “Can we help you?”
I scanned the honey samples, each sitting in front of a different jar. Wildflower, clover, lemon, even a habanero honey.
Curious, I asked, “May I?”
“Of course,” their mother, Dottie, said with a pointed look in her daughters’ direction. She picked up a plate of cut-up biscuits with toothpicks sticking out of the top.
“Asskisser,” Jo said. Daisy pinched the back of her arm, and she yelped.
“I’m sorry,” Dottie started with a tight but apologetic smile on her face. “Forgive my children. They have never been morning people.”
I set down my coffee and chose a moderately sized one even though I wanted a big one, but before I picked up a tiny paper cup of habanero honey, Jo handed me one.
“Careful, it’s hot,” Dottie warned.
“I appreciate the warning,” I said.
Jo wore a wicked smile.
I held her gaze as I dunked the biscuit and put it in my mouth, pleased when her eyes flicked to my lips. And within a second, it took the rest of my attention to stop myself from reacting. The heat hit the back of my throat like a hot coal.
“Oh, shoot,” Jo said sweetly, “was that the extra hot? I swear I thought I gave you mild.”
Sweat pricked my hairline as a trail of fire scorched my esophagus, but I smiled like a goddamn professional and picked up my coffee.
“What are you feeding those bees, hellflowers?”
Daisy brightened. “Actually, we flavor them afterward with—oh. You were kidding.”
“I’ll take a jar of the extra hellfire habanero and a jar of wildflower honey,” I said around my fat tongue, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. “And can I get a bouquet?”
Jo’s face read suspicion. “Didn’t take you for the type to have flowers in the kitchen.”
I handed Daisy a fifty. “Guess you don’t have me pegged after all.”
“Or are you going to take them to your Flexion groupies?” Jo asked. “They’re awfully chipper this morning. And I’m pretty sure the one in the middle will take her shirt off if you ask nice.”
Her family eyed us warily.
Said groupies bounced behind me.
“I thought I’d give them to Salma. Pay her back for the three loaves of zucchini bread she left on my porch yesterday. Think she’d like the pink ones?”
Dottie picked a yellow and white bouquet. “These are her favorites. That’s awfully thoughtful of you, Mr. Stone. Isn’t it, girls?”
Two of them mumbled agreement. Jo just scowled.
I took my change, then my goods. And then I said to Jo, “Anything to make a lady smile.”
She snorted a laugh.
I smirked, sharing a look with Dottie. “See?”
Daisy rolled her lips to stop herself from laughing, but Poppy didn’t even try to hide her amusement. Jo’s scowl deepened.
“You ladies have a good day, now. Hope it’s a success.”
“You too,” Dottie parroted, her manners bred into her too deep to deny.
And I turned for my booth, walking away with my head high. The Flexion groupies turned their attention on me, and I realized that the middle one would take off her shirt. I might not even need to ask, let alone nicely.
