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“Because I didn’t want to set you up for disappointment in case he didn’t show.”
“He came in, shocked the shit out of me, and made me cry. Then he proceeded to be equally as wonderful, and now I’m giddy like a schoolgirl when I think of him. You satisfied?”
His face morphs into anger. “He made you fucking cry?”
“Yes! Because he was so sweet. He brought me a tea, a fucking tea he bribed Marla at the coffee shop to tell him my favorite. I was already on unstable ground with him showing up, so when he gave me the tea, I cried! They were tears of surprise.”
The anger disappears as a satisfied grin crosses his lips. “Smooth.”
“I’m done with you! I shed tears, looked like a fool, and totally humiliated myself! Why are you grinning?”
“Because I may like him.”
“You already like him! He’s your number one draft quarterback!”
“Winning me money and dating my sister are two entirely different things.”
“We’re not dating!” I sound more and more like an irrational dingbat. I need to get my emotions under control and not let him get to me.
“Yet.” He gets up and goes to the coffee maker, pouring himself a mug.
“There is no yet,” I reply with narrowed eyes. “And stop playing matchmaker.”
He raises his hands in defeat, but I can’t miss the glint in his eye. “I’ve done my part. The rest is out of my hands.”
“When did you become such a girl? This is very uncharacteristic of you. If I remember, you threatened my half of this gallery if I didn’t break up with my last boyfriend.”
“That guy wasn’t your boyfriend. God, Grace, have some sense! He was a—”
“I get it. No need to relive it. I think he finally got the hint when Grandpa shot out his taillights.”
“Lucky his ass wasn’t shot. Who the hell shows up for a town function smelling of booze and cheap perfume then proceeds to make out with another woman?”
“It wasn’t that bad! It wasn’t like we were exclusive.” I try to defend the poor schmuck I dated twice last year.
In all honesty, I never wanted to see him again, but pride made me invite him to the end of the season Pecan Picking last year. It was a mistake, but I was sick of all the town ninnies trying to set me up. So I instead invited Paul? Peter? Pledge? What was his name? Even I try to forget.
Pledge! That’s it.
“Pledge was a nice guy but completely misunderstood. He wasn’t used to our southern style and traditions.”
“Jesus, Grace, he was a total dick. And who’s named Pledge?”
Watching his face turn red delights me more than it should. Pledge truly was a douchebag, but I was backed into a corner.
My dad may be the Mayor, but he’s a father first. He cheered on my grandpa while videoing the whole thing when Pledge sped off our property with shots booming in the air.
Dad waited until the festivities were over before I was subjected to yet another family lecture about the importance of choosing my friends more carefully. My plan to rebel backfired enormously, but it did stop the meddling for a while.
Thinking of Grandpa pulling his shotgun out when he caught Pledge with another woman in the barn is enough to make me giggle. Pretty soon, we’re both laughing again at the memory.
“You want to know the best part of that total experience?” I ask through my laughter.
“What?”
“Later that night, Mom cornered me, and she wasn’t mad at all. She thought the situation was hilarious and told me Grandma would have loved every minute of it, from the way the town nosy nellies were gossiping under their breath to the way Sheri Cobb was caught with her skirt bunched around her hips. Mom said I was a true Monroe woman.”
“Really? Mom would be the first person I’d think was mortified.”
