Searching for Beautiful(74)
“Got it.” The stranger nodded as if he agreed with Wolfe. Gen smothered a laugh. “Is that what you do?”
“Sometimes.”
His obvious discomfort told the truth. “You just sleep with them, don’t you?”
He pushed her gently forward as if ending their conversation. “Order your ice cream, Gen.”
She spent a long time considering all options and ordered her usual—mint chocolate chip. It used to drive David batty when she took so much time and always picked the same thing, but Wolfe didn’t seem to care. Wolfe chose cake batter, which should be illegal for anyone over the age of twelve, but still looked ridiculously good. When they walked out, the sun was caught in mid-descent. The sky shimmered with gorgeous pinks, and the faint strains of music drifted in the air.
“It’s music in the park!” she screeched. “Let’s go.”
He seemed more interested in his cone. “I’m not into polka.”
Gen grabbed his hand and led him past the gated dog park and onto the main lawn where community events were held. The Hudson River was the perfect backdrop for the makeshift stage to the right of the white gazebo. Tables lined the area from local shops selling their products. Families squeezed onto blankets, sipping soda and snacking. “You’re such a snob. Local bands play once a week but I haven’t had any time to indulge. Most of them are pretty good, too. Oh, there’s the Barking Dog Bakery table. Let’s go buy Robert a treat.”
Fingers entwined, they melted into the crowd. She stopped to chat with various neighbors, who all stared curiously at Wolfe, studying his tats and piercings with evident curiosity. No one mentioned her broken engagement or runaway-bride scenario. Gen didn’t know if it was better or worse. Lately, every person who approached her acted as if she was breakable, afraid to raise their voices or mention anything in the way of romance.
She bought a few gluten-free peanut butter biscuits for Robert, then tried on a few handmade beaded bracelets with power words on them such as hope and love and heal. The band was called Safe Word, reminding her of some BDSM novel, but they looked pretty cool and the lead singer had pink streaks in her hair.
“Genevieve MacKenzie.”
She turned at the sound of her name, looked way down, and froze. Oh no. Not tonight when she was finally having fun.
The elderly woman before her was small, petite, and meaner than Cruella De Vil. She held a walker in her iron grip, and wore a faded red paisley housedress with white orthopedic shoes. Her stockings bagged around her calves. She squinted her eyes behind thick lenses, and her face was a map of wrinkles.
Gen knew those wrinkles weren’t from laughter. She doubted Mrs. Blackfire ever cracked a grin. Ever. She was the scourge of Verily, known to be bad tempered in every shop she patronized. She hated animals, and had once called the local shelter to pick up one of Arilyn’s dogs, claiming the beagle had peed in her rose bed. Her acid words, inability to experience humor, and general misery were well-known. Everyone avoided her.
“Hi, Mrs. Blackfire.” Gen tried not to tremble. “How are you?”
The woman curled her upper lip. “Terrible. Your house is ruining my ability to sell. It needs a paint job, and your front step has bricks missing.”
Hope bloomed. “Are you moving?”
Steely eyes that matched her gray hair glared. “No. But that doesn’t matter. Between that awful dog of Kate’s ruining my rosebushes and your tree ready to destroy my house, I’ll never sell at full value when I do. Who’s this?”
Gen swallowed. “This is my friend Wolfe.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said politely, wiping his sticky hands on the napkin.
“That’s a ridiculous name. You’re a human being, not an animal. Whatever happened to James or William? Something normal. Not good enough for you?”
Gen held her breath, but Wolfe actually had a twinkle of laughter in his eyes. “At least my name isn’t Jackass.”
Mrs. Blackfire leaned forward with pure suspicion. “You making fun of me, boy?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Hope not.” She studied his various piercings and tattoo. “Are you in a gang? You look like a Jet. We don’t tolerate shenanigans in Verily.”
“I don’t plan to bring any, ma’am. If there’s anything you need help with around your property, let me know. I’ll be glad to help.”
“I take care of my own business. Are you living with her at the cottage now?”
“For a little while.”
Mrs. Blackfire snorted. “This is a quiet neighborhood. I don’t want to hear disgusting sex noises keeping me up at night.”