Drive Me Wild (Bellamy Creek #1)(39)

She blushed. “Thanks. It’s a start, anyway.”

I moved toward the door and pulled it open. “Come on, you guys. Back to work.”

“Don’t I get to try one of those things?” McIntyre whined.

“Later,” I said. “We’ve got things to do, and we’re knocking off early tonight for the game.”

But Blair quickly wrapped one up for McIntyre anyway and handed it to him with a finger over her lips. He took it and ducked into the bay, flashing me a triumphant expression.

I was following right behind him when I heard my mother’s voice.

“Hello, darlings!” she called as she came hobbling through the open door behind a walker, as if she hadn’t been getting around just fine on her own yesterday. “My lands, something smells delightful!”

I turned around and sighed. “What are you doing here, Mom?”

“I came to see what all the fuss was about! It’s all over town that Blair is the new Betty.”

I shook my head. “Jesus Christ.”

My sister strolled in, sipping a cold coffee drink through a straw. “Hey, big brother. How’s married life?”

“Will you stop with that?”

“No. I like the way it bugs you.”

“What’d I ever do to you?” I asked her.

“Ha! You want the list I started at age seven, beginning with ripping the heads off all my Barbies and burying them around the yard?”

“The other day you said I was the best big brother ever.”

She shrugged. “I needed something from you. That’s how it works.”

I looked at my mother. “This is why I’m not having kids.”

Then I ushered the guys back into the garage, letting the door slam shut behind me.





Ten





Blair





I couldn’t help laughing. “Did he really do that?” I asked Cheyenne. “Bury your Barbie heads in the backyard?”

She nodded. “That and a hundred other mean things. He was the worst. We fought constantly.”

“Don’t listen to them, Blair,” said Darlene, lowering herself into a chair. “Having children is a wonderful, beautiful thing.”

I smiled at her. “I’d like them someday.”

“Really?” Darlene gave her daughter a look. “Did you hear that Cheyenne? Blair wants children.”

Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you a million times, Mom. It’s not that I don’t want kids. I do, I just don’t think there’s a deadline. I have plenty of time to find the right person to have them with.”

Darlene glanced at the ceiling. “You hear that, Hank? She thinks she has plenty of time.” Then she pointed a finger at us. “I’m telling you girls, the biological clock is a real thing, and you won’t even hear the slowing of the tick-tock until it’s too late. And then there’s nothing but sad, lonely silence where the potential for hope and joy once lived.” She put a hand on her chest. “Just like in my heart.”

I watched Cheyenne take a deep breath, as if trying to keep her composure, and decided to change the subject.

“Would either of you like to try a scone?” I picked up the tray and carried it around the desk.

“Of course.” Darlene perked up. She chose one from the tray and took a bite, chewing slowly. Then she put a hand over her heart and explained, “Well, no wonder! These are exquisite! Cheyenne, try one.”

Griffin’s sister looked at me. “Is it okay?”

I smiled. “Of course.”

She tasted one, and her reaction was the same as her mom’s. “Oh my God, so good,” she mumbled, her mouth full.

“And not dry at all,” added Darlene.

“A scone should never be dry, just sort of crumbly,” I said. “But also, they’re meant to be eaten with a hot beverage. Can I get either of you some coffee? I’d be glad to make a fresh pot.”

“I’m good,” said Cheyenne, taking another bite. “I should get going anyway. I have an appointment at the salon. Mom wanted to pop in here in case you have any questions about the desk.”

“Maybe how to order supplies?” I suggested, glancing at the desk behind me. “Griffin showed me how to schedule appointments yesterday, and the guys have been writing up the estimates and invoices, so . . .” I shrugged. “I’ve just sort of been chatting with people who call or wander in.”

“So I’ve heard.” Darlene nodded enthusiastically. “The whole town is buzzing with excitement.”

“It’s just some scones,” I said sheepishly, setting the tray back on the counter.

“It’s fresh gossip, is what it is.” Cheyenne popped the last of her scone in her mouth and brushed off her hands. “You’re giving all the old biddies in this town something to talk about.”

“Cheyenne Dempsey, you hush up. Go to the salon now.” Darlene shooed her toward the door. “I need to talk to Blair.”

“I’m going. Thanks for the scone, Blair—and let me know if you want to go to the baseball game tonight. I’d be glad to pick you up so you don’t have to go early with Griff.”

I smiled at her. “Thanks, I’d really like that.”