Grin and Beard It(40)

“Nice shoes,” I said, the compliment slipping out. I hoped there’d come a time when she’d wear just those shoes for me and nothing else. In fact, I filed that thought away under my to-do list.

“Thanks.” She grinned, flashing her dimples as she finished. “I’ll let you borrow them if you want.”

That made me chuckle and I offered my hand again, taking hers as she climbed down from the truck. But this time I didn’t let her go, instead threading our fingers together as I closed the door. As much as Cletus had irritated the hell out of me this morning, I decided I was going to forgive him. His interference had brought me to this moment.

I took just two steps before Sienna tugged me to a stop. “So, uh, this place we’re going . . .”

“The Front Porch.”

“Yes. Is it very crowded?”

I shook my head. “Shouldn’t be. Middle of the week isn’t their busiest time. Though I think the high school PTA might meet up here on Tuesdays.”

“And it’s mostly locals? People you know?”

“We get a few tourists, but it should be mostly locals. Shall we?” I asked, bringing her close to my side.

Sienna gave me a big smile and nodded once. “We shall.”

Hand in hand we walked into the restaurant, and that’s when everything went spectacularly wrong.

We were getting looks.

Jackson James, deputy sheriff, did a double take as we strolled in the door, and Hannah Townsen, the hostess, gawped at us. Her mouth fell so far open she might’ve been catching flies. A hush fell over the crowd like a wave gradually retreating from the shore.

Now everybody was staring.

At first I thought this was because of me. I hadn’t been seen stepping out with a woman around town in years. Most folks assumed Claire and I would be getting married eventually. Hence, I presumed these fine people were surprised to see me with someone new. I’d never corrected the assumptions because I never considered my friendship with Claire to be any of their business.

I frowned my disappointment at the two closest gaping faces: Kip Sylvester, the high school principal, and Ben Huntsford, owner of Big Ben’s dulcimer shop. I’d expected better of them, better than gawking at me and being rude to Sienna by association. I bent to her ear, about to apologize for their odd behavior, when a shriek interrupted me.

“Oh my God!”

Both Sienna and I turned to find Naomi Winters approaching us, her eyes wide. But she was staring at Sienna, not at me.

“Oh my God. You’re Sienna Diaz!” Naomi was now fiddling with her phone, trying to turn it on and hastening to get her words out. “I just love you. I love all your movies. You’re one talented lady. Can I have a picture? Oh, this darn phone.”

I frowned at Naomi, who I’d known since I could remember, and pulled Sienna slightly behind me.

“Naomi, see here—” I began, but Kip Sylvester rushed forward and cut me off, along with half of the high school’s parents and teachers.

“It is such an honor to meet you.” Kip pulled Sienna’s hand out of mine and shook it with enthusiasm. “Can we have your autograph?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for her to respond before thrusting a napkin and pen into her hands. “Can you make it out to Kip? K-I-P, like Catnip.” He grinned at his joke, which sadly made no sense.

“S-sure.” Sienna scrawled her name on the napkin, handed it back to Kip, and another was placed in her hands.

She’d signed five before I came to my wits, but it was sixty seconds too late. People I knew surrounded us, people I’d grown up with, people who’d been at my surprise birthday party last week. But gathered like they were, demanding and greedy for her attention, they looked like strangers.

Not helping matters, everybody was taking pictures. It was a mess of shouts for her attention. Flashes went off from every direction.

What in the ever-loving hell is going on?

I tugged the sixth napkin away from her and shoved away, giving my neighbors a stern frown and pulling her into my arms and against my chest.

I yelled over the crowd. “Now see here. Y’all need to go back to your seats and mind your manners. We’re trying to go out to dinner, and I can’t even put my name in.”

“I wrote you down, Jethro,” Hannah said from the hostess stand. “We’re putting you two in the back, away from all the crazies.”

A few of the said crazies protested, and I lifted my hand to keep Kip and his teachers from coming any closer. “I’m not telling you again, Kip. Take a step back. Sarah isn’t here to sign napkins. She’s here to eat dinner.”

“Who’s Sarah?”