Page 10 of Beneath Southern Stars

“Ms. Linda, for heaven’s sake. You can’t sneak up on someone like that. I almost had a heart attack.”

The stealthy woman sidles up next to me and bumps my hip with her own. “Don’t be dramatic, Laney. Now, tell me who that is.”

I turn my head but before I can speak, she says, “Don’t even try to feed me a line. I saw you two flirting when I walked in. Plus, the way he watched you with that little girl. Honey, that man has more than books on his mind.”

For the second time in less than an hour, I am laughing uncontrollably. Bless her heart. I mean that in the way it is intended. Ryan looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, not like he has any interest in me. Not that it would matter. He’s a family man. Come to think of it, I still haven’t seen a woman next door. Doesn’t mean she isn’t on her way.

My fit subsides and I turn to find Ms. Linda with her hip cocked and an expression on her face that confirms she is not impressed by my laughing. I can’t help but find that a little humorous.

“You are shameless,” I chide and slip behind the counter. As I’m fiddling with things on the display, not really doing anything except shifting items from one place to another. The bookmark display needs to move a smidge while the lip balms should all be facing the same direction. This is not me pretending this conversation is over. I know better.

Ms. Linda clears her throat, drawing my attention. Oh, she thinks she’s slick, but I know this look. The smirk of a woman who thinks she knows something and expects you to share. Jokes on her. There is nothing to share. Sure, Ryan is attractive. That beard begs to be stroked. Which is a series of words I don’t think I’ve ever said—or thought—in a single sentence. Even though I’ve not seen him sans clothes, I can tell it’s quite a vision. Unless the muscles that ripple through his shirts are fake. Which, let’s face it, they are not. But I think the most attractive thing about him is the way he looks at Pepper.

Sighing, I hang my head. There’s no escaping the dopey look I know is on my face.

“Fine,” I whisper in defeat. “His name is Ryan. He and his daughter are staying in the short-term rental next door.”

I lift my eyes and catch the look of pure joy in my counterpart’s expression. A slight smirk and bright eyes, Ms.Linda has the look of a shameless gossip who hit the jackpot in terms of any sort of news in our small town.

“Well, he sure is handsome. No wife?”

“I haven’t met her yet.”

She hums but before she can respond, the bell over the door jingles and my shift replacement enters. Ms. Linda steps aside and picks up a book currently displayed under the “Cookbook Corral” sign. She flips through a few pages while I finish up my shift work and gather my things. When we exit the store, I pause, not sure what else there could possibly be to discuss.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Laney.”

Oh no. I can’t have her thinking I’m angry. Embarrassed, maybe, but not upset.

“You didn’t. It’s been a long day, and I had a double shot mocha just before you walked in. Probably just coming down form a sugar and caffeine high. Speaking of, I need to run by the market for a few things. I’ll see you at seven?”

“If you’re sure.” I nod. With a smile she continues, “Oh you know me. I’ll be there by quarter till. See you then.”

Since my gran and grandaddy passed, Ms. Linda has stepped in as a surrogate grandparent in many ways. I know she cares about me and doesn’t mean to push further than she knows I can handle. Heck, if it wasn’t for her and Uncle Freddy, I doubt I’d have built my business to the level it’s at now.

With her handbag nestled in the crook of her elbow, she saunters down the street, waving at friends and neighbors. That woman is too much. And thankfully, she’s ours.

I wasn’t kidding about the sugar and caffeine high I’m obviously coming down from. It’ll be my excuse when I apologize to Ryan for calling him rude. And salty.Did I actually say that?How humiliating. At least nobody witnessed the lapse in judgment and manners. What a hypocrite. I lectured that poor stranger for his behavior, and I was doing the same thing.

Mumbling to myself, I enter Magnolia Mart and grab a buggy. The smell of fresh fruit greets me straight away as does the owner, Dolly Hanes. This market has been in the Hanes family for generations and continues to maintain the small-town charm I’ve known my entire life. Even after taking over for her family, Dolly didn’t see it necessary to make major changes. Of course, some things are updated and freshly painted, courtesy of her other half, Boone West.

It’s the consistency of the store and its set up that makes shopping while distracted an easier task. As I pass the coolers, I consider—briefly—a caffeine boost. I know in my logical mind that is a very bad idea. I’m already crashing from the afternoon boost. No need to make things worse. Instead, I take my place in line behind a few others and wait my turn.

“Hi, Laney,” Dolly greets as I place my items on the conveyor belt. A few years ahead of me in school, we both grew up in Magnolia Grove. While I left for four years to attend college, she stayed and transitioned to running Magnolia Mart and raising her son, Nash, as a single mom. I admire how she has handled years of gossip and rumors with such grace.

We chat away while she scans and sacks my groceries. As I slip my debit card back into my wallet, shouts fill the space.

“Mom! Mom!”

Speaking of Nash, like a freight train, he rushes in through the back door. His shouts leave Dolly shaking her head and mouthing, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m up front.With customers!”

Sliding to a stop at the end of the counter, Nash brushes his unruly hair out of his face and gasps a few breaths.

“Sorry. Hello, Ms. Laney,” he says quickly before turning back to his mom. I know they say teenagers can be lazy, but Nash Hanes is the opposite. He’s been on the go since he could walk,and this moment is no exception. I can see his effort to rein it in out of respect, but it’s as though it physically pains him.

“Hi, Nash. You got some big news for your mom? A good science grade, maybe?”

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