Page 66 of The Party Line

“I don’t know nothin’ about no ’chinery,” I said in the heaviest fake southern accent I could muster up. “Let me pick weeds. That’s more my speed.”

Connor chuckled and then laughed. “Have you ever mowed a lawn?”

“Oh, yeah, lots of times before I moved to the big city.”

He twisted the top off a bottle of beer and handed it to me. “It’s no different than that. The commercial mowers they use are the width of a strawberry bed, so your job is just to keep it steady. Why don’t you give it a try? You said you wanted to know the business from the ground up, and this year will be your only chance. Next year, you’ll just turn it over to the supervisor of the crew.”

I took a long drink of the cold beer. “This tastes wonderful. I suppose if I mess up, I can always go back to pulling weeds.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said. “So, how is Gina Lou working out?”

“Fantastic. I’m going to hate to see her leave in the fall.”

“Why would she leave?” He turned up his beer and downed a third of it.

That old advertisement came to mind.Beer: ten dollars. Finding Connor on my porch: free. Sitting beside him: priceless.

“Earth to Lila,” he whispered.

“Sorry, I crawled into a time machine.” I reminded him about my plan to offer college tuition to Gina Lou. “I already told you that Aunt Gracie helped several young women follow their dreams. I want to pay that forward.”

He held the beer in his left hand and slipped his right one around my shoulders. “So you are still serious about that idea.”

“Yes, I am,” I said.

“You are an amazing woman, Lila Matthews.”

“No, I’m not,” I protested. “I’m only doing what I can to empower other women, like Aunt Gracie and Mama did for me all from the time I was a little girl.”

“Well, whatever they did, it made you who you are, and I like you. Please don’t ever change.” He held his bottle toward me.

I touched mine to his. “I like you, too, Connor Thurman.”

Not even the cold beer could put out the heat inside my body right then. I changed the subject to something that didn’t have me thinking about taking his hand and leading him upstairs to my bedroom. “Have your muscles stopped aching?”

“Almost. Yours?”

“Same.”

“Okay, enough small talk,” Connor said. “Let’s talk about us.”

“You go first,” I told him.

He set his bottle on the porch, scooted over, and cupped my cheeks in both his hands. “I really, really like you,” he said in a low voice that sent more delicious little shivers down my spine.

I barely had time to close my eyes before his lips pressed to mine. My arms wrapped around him; I leaned into the kiss and didn’t even try to stop my hands when they found their way up his neck and pulled him closer for another.

I reminded myself that this wasn’t the movies. I didn’t make out with a guy and then fall backward onto a bed and pull him down on top of me, but that sure didn’t keep me from wanting to take the session upstairs. My heart might have won over my good sense if Gina Lou hadn’t driven up.

“Hey, y’all, what’s goin’ on?” she asked as she got out of the SUV.

“You want to tell her, or should I?” Connor chuckled.

“Neither one,” I whispered.

He raised his voice. “Want a beer?”

“Love one,” she replied and sat down on the porch step.

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