Page 33 of A Package Deal

Still holding my phone, I decided I needed to get my head screwed on straight. And that required distance.

Me: Heading into town for some errands. Won’t be back for dinner.

Of course, Em didn’t answer, which was just as well. I didn’t really want to talk to her right now. I went back inside the house only long enough to grab my wallet and keys and then I was backing down the driveway, headed for downtown Blueball. My first stop was a jewelry store and the whole time I chatted with the sales person over cases of sparkling jewels, I told myself this was all for Georgia.

Even if it was a lie.

My next stop was Tequila Mockingbird, simply because it was clever and it had alcohol in the name. The restaurant had sprung up sometime after I’d left Blueball in my rearview mirror and it didn’t disappoint. The chips and salsa were next level. My mood lifted with the first beer and edged toward euphoric when my server brought over queso on the house. Some people didn’t like eating by themselves at a restaurant, but forty-four years of being single meant I had to get used to it. Especially with all the food and wine tastings I’d been to in my line of work.

“Hey! Warrick, right?” came a feminine voice beside my table.

I lifted my head from the trough of chips and queso long enough to see a tall blonde woman and an even taller guy next to her with his hat on backward.

“Yeah, Warrick Wolfe.” I wiped my salty hand off on my napkin and offered it. The woman shook it, introducing herself as Paisley and her husband as Gannon, the owners of Glamper’s Paradise. I’d seen signs directing people to this Glamper’s Paradise, but I didn’t know what the hell it was. I hadn’t been the camping type since I was a kid. Then again, now that I had Georgia, maybe I should look into it.

“I dropped off a tray of cookies after your father passed but no one was home. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

I dipped my head, that pang of grief always below the surface. Probably always would be. “He was a good man and he’ll be missed, that’s for sure. Thank you for the cookies. I’m sure my brothers and I demolished them and Mom gave us shit about making a mess.”

Paisley smiled softly. Gannon piped up, thankfully steering the conversation in a new direction. I’d found out in the last few months that death and grieving were almost always conversation stoppers. “How’s the job at the house going? Paisley said Em Slaywright is a new friend of hers and told them about the remodel of your parents’ house.”

I blinked, not realizing Em knew Paisley. Or anyone in town. Somehow, in my head, she and Georgia were only…mine. “It’s going great. It’s just Em and Pip, but they get done the work of four men.”

Paisley snorted and elbowed her husband in the ribs. “I’d believe it! Women are usually better at, well, everything.”

Gannon shot a dirty look at his wife that lacked heat. “I wish M Builds had been around when we were building out our glampsite. I have daughters, so I love that Blueball has an example of women in the trades.”

Paisley gasped and I followed the line of her gaze. Right to my left hand which sported a shiny gold ring. “When did you get married, Warrick?”

I sighed, realizing I should have been more discreet. Then again, gossip was sure to get out eventually. I leaned closer, keeping my voice low and hoping I could trust this couple. “Em and I got married yesterday.”

At Paisley’s second gasp, I winced. Gannon clapped me on the shoulder. “What are you doing here alone? Shouldn’t you be locked in the house with your new wife?” He shot me a look that every man understood. A mental image of Em in her nearly see-through pajamas came to mind.

“It’s not like that. This is for legal help only, so if you could keep it quiet, I’d appreciate it.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Paisley singsonged, resting her elbow on my shoulder like we were already friends. “Em was blushing like a new bride when we were talking about you at lunch the other day.”

Gannon stiffened. “Why were you talking about him?”

Paisley rolled her eyes and it reminded me of Em. “He’s newly back in town and single. Or was. Of course we discussed him.”

Gannon folded his arms across his chest, a distinct look of displeasure sliding across his features. I didn’t know much about marriage, but I felt the eggshells beneath my feet. Raising my hand for the server, I caught his eye and gestured for two more beers. I had a feeling my new friend, Gannon, was going to need one too.

“Listen, I promise you it’s not like that. Em is as hardheaded as a mule being asked to don a coat and tie. She’s also been hurt in the past and won’t open up about it. This marriage has as much chance of surviving past the legal battle she’s facing as this queso has of not being eaten before I leave this restaurant.”

Gannon finally glanced my way. “She sounds a lot like my wife.”

“Hey!” Paisley put her hands on her hips. Then she turned that obstinate gaze my way. Dear Lord, save me from stubborn women. “You leave that to me. My friends and I are better than any counselor. Okay, maybe not that good, but we’re damn persistent about getting you to face the music about your relationship. We’ve singlehandedly saved at least a dozen Blueball marriages. Give me a night with Em and I’ll have her singing like a canary about her innermost thoughts.”

“Jesus,” Gannon muttered, taking one of the beers the server arrived with. We clinked glasses and each swigged half our glasses down.

Paisley huffed. “Seriously, can you babysit Georgia tomorrow night?”

I thought through my gaping schedule and nodded.

Paisley’s grin was terrifying.

I’m not proud to say I snuck around the back of the house to sit on the bench Mom had installed underneath the large oak tree decades ago. The foundation for the screened-in porch was only ten feet away, the ceiling completely framed in with those damn beams of wood that had nearly taken Em out this morning. The light was still on in Georgia’s room, and even though I wanted to go in and read her another bedtime story, I had a feeling her mother might not want me anywhere near her.

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