Page 46 of To Have and to Scold

A teen wants to discuss my dating life? Looks like I need to have a word with Rosie about teaching her kid to be respectful of people’s privacy.

“Do you think Dallas will go back to Atlanta after the summer?” he asks.

I exhale slowly. “I don’t know.”

“Most people who aren’t from around here leave in the fall. Just saying.”

I know that. Dallas has made it clear she’ll be moving on at some point. “Thanks, Leo.” There’s only a hint of sarcasm in my response, and I’m proud of myself for that.

“Anytime,” he says, blissfully unaware that I don’t need or want advice he’s not qualified to give.

Before he leaves, he turns to me, anticipation written all over his face. “So? You’re gonna let my Prom group eat dinner at Willow Wood, right?”

“Leo,” I warn. I don’t want to think about that right now.

“I promise you it won’t be a big deal at all. An hour and a half, tops. The guys and I will clean the kitchen the next morning. You won’t even be able to tell we were there.”

“Except I’d have to chaperone you, so of course I’ll be able to tell.”

“You know what I mean.”

I blow out a breath. “I’ll check on some things and then let you know as soon as I can.”

His smile is so enthusiastic that I know already I’m eventually going to tell him yes.

But why is it that after his mom comes to pick him up that I find myself stewing over what he said—that Dallas will leave Willow Cove just like Chloe did?

My punk neighbor thinks he knows a thing or two about women.

Maybe he knows more than I do. Because every time I find myself drawn to Dallas or getting distracted by thoughts of her, I need to remember his words.

She’s going to leave.

Chapter Seventeen

Dallas

It’s after eight on Friday night when I drive over to the mansion, irritated about this muggy day. Atlanta gets muggy. Willow Cove isn’t supposed to.

I went to The Bridal Barn, the only bridal shop in town, to take some inventory photos of some of the dresses to show my clients. Then I drove to Wilmington but had to leave the home décor store empty handed. It feels like such a waste of my time when that happens. They were out of the silk greenery I needed to fill in the gaps between the freshly cut stuff that Lila Dobbs ordered. Plus, today brought no new bookings and two of my brides called about delays—one of the bride’s preferred bakers might not be able to make her cake because of a double booking and the other bride’s dress might not be altered in time.

You know, just the cake and the dress. No biggie.

I had to leave things unresolved—no answer yet whether the bakers I contacted can squeeze in a wedding cake on such short notice. And every tailor I contacted is already booked a couple of months out.

The refreshing thing, though? Both brides, although they were concerned about the problems, were so nice about it. There was an optimism in their voices, and I got the feeling that they were truly thankful for my help. It’s a refreshing change from many of the brides I’ve worked with before, and I found my own anxieties melting down into a low simmer. I can handle these issues.

And I’m going into this work session with Beck wearing clothes fit for a wastrel again. I look like a thrift store queen.

But not the cool kind of thrifting. Not the kind where you look all sophisticated in your vintage Audrey Hepburn scarves and ballet flats. I’m wearing the kind where you look like a scout troop leader from thirty years ago.

Yep. My holey, yellow T-shirt is baggy in all the wrong ways and even has those scruffy pills under the arms. The only thing going for it is its color. Who doesn’t love a lemon yellow?

I’m proud of myself for putting this on instead of something cute. And yeah, I didn’t want to get my good clothes splattered with paint. But it’s more than that. Beck and I hugged again last night, and it was even better than the first time. So, like the responsible adult that I am, I’m wearing my ratty old T-shirt and baggy shorts to avoid doing that again. And especially to avoid thinking it might be a good idea to kiss the man.

The man who comes to help me after managing construction sites all day. The man who cares about my safety enough to stay even longer while I go on the beach and snap a bunch of photos. The man who coaches the neighbor kid’s volleyball team and drops whatever he’s doing when someone in Willow Cove needs help.

So, see? I cannot kiss him. I’m here to get back on track withThe Plan, so that I can take over Amore. I’m here to be so upstanding and good at my job that Shoshana has no choice but to take me back. Falling into a relationship with Beck is not part of that plan at all. And I don’t need to add to my already questionable reputation by doing that.

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