Page 24 of Winter Vows

“There’s a storeroom that goes with it,” Willetta grudgingly told them. “Runs behind the office next door.” She pointed to a door. “Through there. There’s a bathroom, too.”

Trish eagerly opened the door and wandered through. “Oh, my, it’s huge,” she announced. “More than enough room for stock and the mailorder operation.” She turned her gaze on him. “It’s perfect. And I can’t believe the rent. Compared to Houston, it’s a steal.”

Hardy could see that the whole plan was spinning wildly out of his control. She was going to land smack in the middle of his life, and there was almost nothing he could see to do about it.

“You’re in the middle of nowhere,” he reminded her, trying to keep a desperate note out of his voice. “That’s why it’s so cheap.”

“Internet. Mail order,” she countered. “For those, location doesn’t matter.”

Giving up, he shrugged. “If you say so.”

She spun around, then grabbed Willetta and hugged her, to the old woman’s obvious astonishment. “Thank you. It’s wonderful.”

Willetta gathered her composure, then actually smiled. Hardy was surprised her face didn’t crack under the strain.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen that kind of optimism. Hope you don’t live to regret this.”

“I won’t,” Trish declared firmly. “When were you planning on closing your shop?”

“Eager to run me off, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Trish said, looking horrified. “I’m just trying to predict my own timetable.”

“End of next week,” Willetta said. “Will that suit you?”

“If you’re sure it’s not rushing you too much.”

“Tell you the truth I’ll be glad to get to Arizona,” Willetta admitted. “I’ve just been hanging around here out of habit.”

The two women actually beamed at each other. It had turned into a blasted lovefest. Hardy had to swallow back panic.

“We’d better be going so Willetta can get home,” he said, interrupting Trish’s chatter.

“Oh, of course,” she apologized. “Unless you’d like to join us for dinner.”

Willetta looked tempted for an instant, which would have suited Hardy just fine. She could have served as a buffer between him and Trish. For the last half hour, watching excitement put color in her cheeks and sparks in her eyes, he’d wanted desperately to kiss her. He figured it was going to take a natural disaster or the intercession of someone like Willetta to keep him from following through on the inclination before the night was over.

Instead, though, the seamstress patted Trish’s hand. “No, indeed. I wouldn’t dream of barging in on your date with your young man.” She tugged Trish aside. “Keep your eye on him, though. I’ve heard stories.”

Trish glanced his way. “Is that so?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Hardy said. “Willetta, you’re just jealous because I’ve never asked you out. You’ve forgotten all about the ice cream sundae I bought you at Dolan’s last summer.”

“Indeed, I haven’t. It was butterscotch, as I recall.”

He grinned. “That it was. Now don’t you go telling tales about me to Trish.”

“Young man, it will take more than one butterscotch sundae to buy my silence.”

He winked at her. “I’ll tell Sharon Lynn to make you a banana split tomorrow, on me.”

Willetta grinned. “Now you’re talking,” she enthused. “Now go on, you two. Get out of here.”

When they were outside, Hardy suggested walking up the street to the Italian restaurant. “You’ll need the walk after you eat. They serve enough to feed an army.”

“Perfect. I’m starving.” She glanced up at him. “You really are a shameless womanizer, aren’t you?”

“Me?”

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