“You and Billy. A date,” he said slowly and loudly, pronouncing every syllable, as though I was hard of hearing.
Unthinkingly, I smacked his arm and, leaning close, responded in a rushed whisper. “I heard you the first time, I’m not deaf.”
“Good. Just checking.”
“No. Not good. I’m not going on a date with Billy!”
Now he frowned. “Why not?”
“Because . . .” I waved my arms around to no purpose. “Didn’t you just witness that train wreck a minute ago?”
He nodded solemnly. “It was impossible to miss.”
A strangled sound escaped my throat. “How can you possibly think a date with Billy is a good idea?”
“Precisely because of how you reacted.” His tone was maddeningly rational and academic. “You want a husband, yes?”
“Yes,” I whispered, glancing behind Cletus unnecessarily to ensure we weren’t being overheard.
“And I’m guessing you want to marry someone your parents approve of, yes?”
I hesitated, then nodded tightly, realizing where he was going with this.
He was right. Of course he was right. If I could make it through a date with Billy, then I could make it through a date with anyone.
“I see your point,” I admitted miserably.
“Oh, now. Come on. Billy isn’t so bad.” Cletus nudged my shoulder, repeating my words from earlier.
I huffed an exasperated laugh. “Yeah. Not so bad. Except I think you’re forgetting one very important fact.”
“I never forget facts.” He shook his head quickly, both dismissing and teasing me. “Facts are my friends.”
“Oh yeah? You think so?”
“I know so. I send facts Christmas cards every year and they reciprocate with peppermint bark.”
“Well then, how about this fact: Billy will never ask me out on a date.”
And that was a fact.
Billy Winston was completely and irrevocably in love with Claire McClure. This information was not widely known, but I knew. I was a people watcher.
He’d been in love with her for years. Years upon years. They would watch each other, always casting cautious yet longing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. It was both heartbreaking and frustrating to see two people so desperately in love guarding their hearts.
Therefore, I knew—for a fact—that Billy Winston would never, ever, not in a million years, ask me out on a date.
CHAPTER 9
“Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns.”
Louisa May Alcott, Little Women
~Jennifer~
When Billy Winston asked me out on a date, it was terrible . . . and then it wasn’t.
Allow me to explain.
“Everyone, y’all know Jennifer, right?” Cletus ushered me into his family’s house, interrupting their conversations to introduce me.
I gave the room a tight smile and a little wave, unable to lift my gaze due to the pressure of twenty or so eyeballs moving over my person.
“I don’t.”
I glanced up, finding a tall, gorgeous woman with dark brown hair and smiling brown eyes standing from her place at the couch. I immediately recognized her as Sienna Diaz. I recognized her because she was a famous movie star and I’d seen all her movies. She was fantastic.
Sienna held her hand out to me and I stepped forward in a bit of a daze, not because she was a movie star, but because she had an aura about her, like a gravitational field with 4th of July sparklers.
“You know Jenn, Sienna. She’s the Banana Cake Queen,” I heard Beau explain.
My heart fell, but I salvaged my smile. “Very nice to meet you.”
“Oh. Yes. I know you by reputation.” She sounded delighted and gave my hand a little squeeze before releasing it. “I’ve had your amazing cake.”
“She’s not the Banana Cake Queen, Beau. She is Jennifer Sylvester and she likes to garden while wearing overalls,” Cletus reprimanded his brother. Then, before I could recover from his statement, he pushed me toward his sister. “Go talk to Ashley. She also likes to garden. Discuss.”
Ashley stood and gave Cletus a giant grin, then turned her attention to me, reaching for my hands. “Come over here and tell me all about your garden, Jenn.” Ashley tugged me forward and unceremoniously placed me on the couch next to her. “And then tell me if you canned any tomatoes this year. I have mine frozen in bags, but I’d like to do more canning.”
“Billy, come with me. We’ve got sad cake to cut and a butternut squash pie to sample.” Cletus motioned for Billy to follow, which I noticed Billy seemed to do with some reluctance.
With Cletus and Billy gone, the room fell quiet and I felt everybody’s eyes on me. I tucked my fingers under my thighs to keep from twisting them on my lap, and lifted my eyes to Ashley’s friendly expression.
“Well now, let’s see,” I swallowed, trying to ignore everyone and focus on Ashley’s question. “I did can tomatoes. But I used a pressure cooker this year for them and my other vegetables. I had some trouble last year with my beans, when I used just the pot.”
She patted my knee and turned to her other side. “See now, Drew. We need a pressure cooker.”
What? Drew? Oh no!
I lifted my eyes and, to my horror, found Drew Runous sitting on the other side of Ashley Winston. He was watching me with a wary expression.
And I knew why.
And I didn’t blame him. I’d be wary of me as well.
Mortification and panic had me jumping to my feet. I glanced around the room, searching for a way out and finding only a sea of eyeballs looking at me like I was an escaped mental patient.
“Jenn?” Ashley asked, concern in her voice as she gained her feet next to me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Fine. Bathroom?” I asked tightly, keeping my gaze downcast.
“Um, just down the hall there. Second door on the left.”
I nodded once and bolted to the hall, my heart thundering between my ears. I walked to the end of the hallway, then realized I’d passed the bathroom door. But then I couldn’t remember which door Ashley had indicated—was it the second or the third? And was it the right or the left? This house was huge and the hallway had entirely too many doors.
I tried to quietly retrace my steps, testing the third door on my right and found it was a closet.
“Shoot,” I muttered under my breath.
My hands were sweaty, so I wiped them on my jeans and tried the next door. It was a study of some kind, or a library.
“Dammit.” I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. This was the worst. I was the worst. I never should have come here. I should’ve just—
“Jennifer? What are you doing?” Cletus’s question had me opening my eyes and straightening from the wall.
He stood in an open doorway, his hands on his hips, Billy hovering behind him and watching me with concern stitched on his forehead.
I glanced between the two men. “I’m looking for the bathroom.”
Cletus lifted an eyebrow at me, examining and dissecting me. “You don’t need to use the bathroom. You’re looking for an escape.”
I gathered a deep breath and the dam broke. “That’s right. I’m looking for an escape. Drew is out there. And—oh God—Cletus, I’m the worst. I’m so awkward, my awkward is embarrassed by my awkward.”
Peripherally, I noticed Billy step more completely into the hall, but I couldn’t stop talking, I needed to tell someone about my secret shame and Cletus was that person. I knew him better now. I knew he was weird and wouldn’t judge me. But also, he couldn’t turn me away. I was blackmailing him. He had to listen.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad—”
“It is. It was. You don’t know what I did,” I whispered on a rush. “Last year, in a misguided attempt to jump-start my search, I drove to the ranger station and gave Drew a banana cake. And then I kissed him.”
Both Billy and Cletus straightened, glanced at each other, then turned their eyes back to me.
“Actually, kiss might be the wrong word,” I lamented. “I had no idea what I was doing at the time, and clearly even less now. It was more of a-a-a lip collision.” I smashed my fingers together in a sloppy motion, wanting to demonstrate how truly uncomfortable and unfortunate of a kiss it had been.
Cletus rolled his lips between his teeth and stared at me. I didn’t realize at first, because I was lost to my humiliation, but Cletus was laughing. Nor did I realize Billy was also laughing.
I didn’t realize until Billy made an inadvertent sound in the back of his throat and covered his mouth with his hand. Then I looked at them. I looked at them both. Their eyes were watery and their shoulders were shaking.
I huffed a little laugh and shook my head. A new kind of embarrassment spread to my fingertips, the kind that accompanies being the butt of a joke. I knew this embarrassment well.
“I guess it is kind of funny,” I said, hoping I sounded good-natured and self-deprecating instead of brittle.
They both stopped laughing, and that made me feel even worse.
Tears burned in the back of my eyes, cinching my throat. I glanced down the hall, toward the front door, and bit my bottom lip. “I think—” I stopped, swallowed, then tried again. “I think I’m going to go now.”