Page 5 of The Problem with Dating

I arched an eyebrow. “You bite your tongue. They aren’t adding a stoplight.”

She nodded. “Right down the way on the corner of Elk Street and Honey Avenue.”

I shivered at the thought. “Before you know it, Al’s Hardware Shop will be a Home Depot, and our farmers’ market will be a supersized grocery store.”

“Watch your mouth,” Avery warned, pointing a stern finger my way. “I will cause an uproar if I lose my weekly trips to the market for Ms. Ruth’s fresh flowers.”

“Good morning, ladies,” Milly West said as she powerwalked down the street like she did every morning. She walked in place as she looked at the construction team hanging up the sign of the new restaurant. “Can you believe this? Something this sinister coming to our sweet town?”

Milly West was in her mid-sixties and known for her dramatic rants. Unsurprisingly, she and Mary Sue wereveryclosely related—twins. We called them the babble belles of Honey Creek. They always yapped their gums but never really said much of anything. Just last week, Milly was going on about how a butterfly followed her home and was probably a government robot recording all her whereabouts. I didn’t have the heart to tell Milly that her life wasn’t intriguing enough for the government to waste their robotic butterflies.

“Sinister seems a bit much,” I said with a smile.

“No. I mean it. Something about that owner is very dark. I hear he’s from the south side ofChicago,” she said, whispering the word Chicago as if it was dipped in sin.

“Oh?” Avery asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Yes. Thesouth side,”Milly repeated with a shiver as she kept powerwalking in place. “You know, people from that side of town do drugs!A lotof drugs. We don’t need that kind of stuff in our sweet town.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Milly. We definitelydon’thave drugs in Honey Creek already. That bad boy might even be putting drugs in his dishes,” Avery sarcastically remarked. There was a good chance our town had more drugs than Chicago. Our youth had a way of partying quite hard at times.

Unfortunately for us, Milly didn’t pick up on sarcasm easily. She gasped and placed her hand on her chest. “Oh, you’re right! I saw a video on YouTube about people putting cocaine into brownies. Or maybe it was marijuana. It’s bad enough that that Nathaniel boy is back in town, and now we could have another drug lord in the place.”

Avery’s eyes widened. “Nathaniel who?”

“You know.” She waved her hand, trying to page through her brain’s yellow pages. “Lesley’s boy, who was off to the Major Leagues but got wrapped up in trouble.”

“Nathan Pierce?” Avery asked, alert. “He’s back in town?”

“Yup. He’s been seen around these parts a bit as of late. He is mostly staying on his mom’s farm, though. It’s a shame. He left a bad imprint on our town. I hate that he’s back. Don’t you?”

“I have no opinion on that man,” Avery said through gritted teeth. Which meant she had a robust opinion on him. Nathan and my sister had a bit of history that only a few people in town knew about. It might’ve been a secret to most, but it was no secret to me that Nathan Pierce was Avery’s first love. He wasn’t the one who got away—but he was more so the one who ran away—sprintedaway—and left Avery’s heart in pieces.

Milly blinked a few times before looking at the restaurant and then back at us. She leaned in as if to whisper, but was just as loud as before. “What does your father think about this? It looks a little bad with his construction team helping with the build,” she stated. “I can’t believe Matthew was okay with such a project.”

“Matthew does what he does when he does it,” Daddy hollered from across the street, making Milly jump a little. She turned to see Daddy in his hard hat with his big, toothy grin. He tipped his hat toward Milly, who instantly blushed.

Daddy had that effect on many women in town. He could make even the meanest ones bashful from his charm. They acted as if he was the small-town version of Shemar Moore. The other day, I overheard a woman say she’d love my father to take his sledgehammer to pound town against the bush between her legs. Add that to my nifty list of reasons to seek out trauma therapy.

“Good morning, Matthew.” Milly waved in his direction.

“Morning, Milly. That workout set looks good on you,” he flirted, making Avery and me roll our eyes.

Milly smoothed her hands over her set. “Oh, this old thing? I found it at Goodwill for ten bucks.”

One thing about us Midwest folks: when we found an item for a good deal, we would spread the news to anyone who’d listen.

“Ten bucks got you looking like a ten,” Daddy replied with a wink.

“Kill me now,” Avery muttered, nudging me.

Milly grew even more flustered and waved Daddy off. “Oh, Matthew Kingsley, stop it right this instant and get back to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said before he gave Avery and me a sarcastic wink. It was essential to know the difference between Daddy’s winks. They all held specific meanings. The one he’d just delivered to us said, “Dang nosy Milly being rude as ever.”

Milly cleared her throat. “Your father is something else, ladies.”

“We hear that a lot,” I said.

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