Page 2 of Pinch of Love
My brows arched. “For the most part?”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I didn’t mean like he’d come stab you in the night or anything.”
My eyes widened. “That thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
She touched her forehead and groaned. “Sorry. I’ve got this really crazy mind that goes places no mind should ever go. My husband thinks I’m obsessed with true crime.” She scowled. “He could be right. Anyway, not to worry. Cash is not some type of slice and dicelandlord. There are no women in his freezer. In fact, I don’t even think he dates.”
I hid a laugh and wondered whether I should have ever left North Carolina. Maybe this entire trip was over the top. I shouldn’t be the one running away from my life. It should be Rob fleeing for his.
The woman reached into the pocket of her jumper and scrolled through her phone. “Ah, here he is.”
I shook my head. “Really, I’m okay. I’ll have my sister come pick me up. I’ve caused enough of a disruption.”
“You’re not even a little bit of a disruption. Besides, out here, I can pretend that my toddler isn’t painting the walls with spaghetti sauce.” She dialed the number and winked at me. “We’ll get it all straightened out. I’m Becky, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Maya Bailey.”
Her eyes widened. “Millie’s granddaughter?”
I nodded and smiled. “One of them.”
Becky’s toddler walked onto the porch with more sauce on her face, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Millie is such a character.” She grinned as someone on the other end of the line answered the phone. “And I love Grace. We’re both in a book club together.”
I couldn’t hide my surprise. Grace never struck me as a book club kind of gal. Granted, I didn’t know that much about my sister in recent years. Our family mainly consisted of three siblings, all girls, and we orbited around Grandma Millie since our parents hadn’t really lived up to the guardian title. Once we hit our twenties, we scattered like fleas on a freshly bathed dog. Grace moved to Illinois, married, and had a daughter, but she recently moved to Buttercup Lake. Nina was my older sister, and she lived in New Mexico. When I thought about where to hide out for the next couple of months, Wisconsin’s cooler temps called to me.
“Hey, Cash. I’ve got a guest of yours here. I think it’s time I tell my husband to clear the branches off our address sign again.”
A low rumble of laughter vibrated through the phone, and I couldn’t help but drop my gaze to the porch. Cash sounded a lot younger than I’d imagined him to be.
Not that I’d done much imagining, but if I were to, I thought he might be sixty, living in a cabin down by the lake with a mutt named Oscar.
I turned my attention to Becky as she guided her little one back onto the porch.
“Thanks, Cash. I’d drive her over, but my little one is covered in spaghetti sauce, and a bubble bath is next on the agenda.”
Becky thanked him once more, and I brought my eyes to hers.
I winced in embarrassment. “Thanks again.”
“He should be over in a couple of minutes. Come on inside. You can leave your bags on the porch. No one’ll take ’em.”
I’d forgotten how friendly the residents of Buttercup Lake were, and I suddenly wasn’t sure if I was ready for it. I had a lot of pouting and plotting ahead of me.
“I’d offer you lunch, but I’m pretty sure no one should touch what my little Melanie manhandled.” She patted her daughter’s head, who pointed at my suitcases.
“Minnie Mouse,” the little one squealed.
I glanced behind me, but I didn’t see anyone looking like the mouse, so I shrugged. “Uh, yeah.”
“Oh, speak of the devil. Here comes Cash.” Becky gave a quick wave as I turned to see a white Jeep turning down the drive. The Jeep’s top was off, and a guy with a baseball hat and sunglasses sat in the driver’s seat. He had an ice cream cone in his left hand and turned off the ignition with his right.
For no apparent reason, my heart skipped a beat when he parked and gave us a wave as he hopped out of the Jeep. He was wearing a loose pair of khaki shorts hitting his knees and a grey tee that happened to cling to his thick biceps. I ripped my gaze away as if I weren’t inhaling the man in front of me like he was inhaling his pink ice cream.
“Ah, that’s why he got here so fast. He was getting ice cream,” Becky informed me as if that explained the world’s problems.
I smiled, remembering how much I loved grabbing a cone of butter pecan when I was a little girl visiting my grandma here at the lake. It was such a simpler time.