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Her smile is catching. The older woman comes out with two tall glasses.
“Thanks, Ms. Willow,” Cassie says as she takes the drink.
“You’re welcome, honey.” The woman turns to me and hands me mine. “I hope you like freshly squeezed lemonade.”
“I sure do, thanks,” I lie and hold back a chuckle. My gaze meets Cassie’s over the rim of the glass. How ironic. I was so angry when I first arrived in town, thinking how sour my life was. It turns out making lemonade isn’t so bad after all. Well, the metaphorical kind, that is. I force down a swallow. I still hate this shit.
“How nice that you have this strapping young lad to help you.” Ms. Willow places her hand on my biceps and squeezes. “So strong.”
Cassie’s eyes grow wide. She holds her glass up to her mouth to hide her chuckle. “Yes, he’s been a great help.”
“Hmm, I bet.” She gives me a once-over, lingering on my pectorals and arms. But not in the judging way most of the town has shown, it’s more in appreciation. As in being checked out. When was the last time someone so blatantly checked me out? Scratch that. When was the last time someone over the age of seventy so blatantly checked me out? I don’t even know what to think about that.
“Well, don’t let me hold you up.” She pats the chair’s backing. “Hopefully, this fetches enough money to fund the food pantry for a while.”
“Oh, it will. Thanks again. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.”
We hand the glasses back to Ms. Willow. When the old flirt slips inside, we burst out laughing.
“Now that was fun to watch.”
“Says you. I feel violated.”
“Who knew you’d entice the old ladies?”
My confident smile slides into place, honing the dimples women seem to like. “I can get them at all ages, Choir Girl.”
The effort achieves what I set out to do as evidenced by Cassie’s shake of her head and eye roll. I laugh. She’s so easily riled, which I love. She’s her most genuine self when she tosses it back at me.
“Is that so?”
I give her a shrug.
“So, you think she’d still find you studly if I were to tell her that you’re afraid of insects with eight legs?”
“Spiders are not insects.” They’re monsters. “And I’m not really afraid of them.”
“Oh yeah? Then you may want to knock the one off your shoulder.” She points to my right side.
“What?” I strain to look while swatting at my shoulder like someone just lit my ass on fire. Cassie holds her stomach from laughing so hard.
“It’s not funny. Is it off?” A shiver races down my spine.
“I think you got it, Lover Boy.” She swipes a finger under her eyes. “Let’s tackle this beast.”
“I’m going to get you back.”
“Uh-huh. I can’t wait.”
She’s still laughing as we lift the atrocity and carry it out to the truck. Or that’s the intention. We don’t quite make it. “Wait,” Cassie huffs out.
I halt and lower my end to the ground while Cassie drops hers. “You okay, Miss I Can BenchHalfMy Weight?”
She gives me a stern look. “Yeah, just give me a minute. This chair is awkward.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“Ha-ha.” She shakes her arms a moment before repositioning them. With a nod, she says, “Okay, I’m ready.”
