Page 16 of The Sweetest Thing
“Here.” She held the pamphlets out. “It looks like you sunk a lot of money into printing these—it would be a shame to see them discarded and blowing all over the place.”
His fingers brushed along the edge of her hand before clasping the stack of pamphlets. He jerked away but the unnerving hum, the slightest vibration, lingered on his fingertips. “Nice to know you care.”
“I don’t.” She rubbed her palm along her thigh—the same palm he’d touched. “I do care about trash blowing all over.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, her shirtfront quivering with indignation. The quiver caught his attention, taking any sting out of her saying, “Believe it or not, everything isn’t about you.”
“I like your bee.” He eyed the bee brooch pinned right over her heart. The pin was very definitely quivering. “It almost looks like it’s buzzing, Tansy Hill. Did I get you all worked up? Is that what you’re feeling? Because of me?”
She glared up at him, her lips pressed tight until the words spilled out. “If your little brother wasn’t sitting right there, I’d tell you exactly how you make me feel, once and for all.”
Dane had no doubt she had plenty to say. And that it would be interesting. “Go ahead. He’s probably wearing earbuds—”
“I’m not,” Leif interrupted.
“He’s not listening.” Dane sighed.
“I am,” Leif argued.
“You’re listening?” Dane faced his brother. “Now? After not listening all day long?”
“This is interesting.” Leif shrugged.
“Interesting?” Dane considered the word as he turned back to Tansy.
But Tansy was walking away, back to her neatly packed carts and her waiting sister.
“She gets to you,” Leif said.
“No.” Dane went back to packing up, deciding to do a count when they got home. “I get to her.”
“Whatever.” Leif shook his head. “You don’t think she’s pretty? I mean, the bee thing is weird but she’s still pretty.”
“She is,” Dane agreed. The bee thing was...Tansy. She’d always worn bees. Always. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t had a bee somewhere on her person. Hair clips or socks. Shoes or backpacks. She’d taken her grandfather’s Bee Girl label to heart. “She’s also a pain in the ass.”
Leif helped pack up the rest, eager to get on the road. He even helped carry the folding chairs—so they didn’t have to make two trips. But once the truck was loaded up and ready to go, the engine wouldn’t turn over. No click. No chug. No nothing.
“Great.” Leif rested his head on the back of the headrest and closed his eyes. “Just great.”
“You have a hot date or something?” Dane asked, popping the hood, sliding out of the truck cab, and peering into the engine compartment. He pulled the band from his pocket, twisted his hair into a tight knot and secured it before bending in to take a closer look.
His father had said he’d had the alternator replaced. He’d said it...but that didn’t mean he’d done it.
He walked back to the open driver’s side window. “Did Dad get the truck repaired?”
Leif shot him a look. “I would know thatwhy?”
Their father only told them what he wanted to tell them—whether or not what he told them was true was another matter altogether. “Point taken.” Dane sighed, propping his forearms on the window and leaning forward.
The parking lot was emptying, cars and trucks and motorcycles all passing without pausing to offer help. Until the pale yellow Honey Hill Farms van pulled along beside them.
“My sister is making me stop.” Tansy Hill didn’t look at him. She stared straight out the window. “My sister also wants me to ask if you need a ride home.”
What he needed was a ride to an auto-parts shop but it was getting late and it’d be a struggle to see anything—let alone fix the alternator—without good lighting. No, he and Leif could come back tomorrow and take care of things then.
He studied Tansy’s profile. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble?”
“I didn’t say that.” She sighed. “Let’s get this over with.” This was killing her, he could tell.
“You heard the lady,” he said to Leif.
