Back in the Saddle (Jessica Brodie Diaries #1)(14)

Gladis led me to a plush leather sofa. “So darlin’,” she started, “did you find the store alright?”

That earlier bout of embarrassment must have come rushing back to my face because Gladis said, "Out with it!”

I told her the whole story. From getting lost, which was embarrassing since she gave me directions, to diving around a hot guy into dog food, then not being able to find my wallet and leaving with my thirty-something-dollars’ worth of groceries on credit.

She was laughing through most of it. When I got to the money part she stopped me. “Do you need money for that, dear?”

“No! Thank you, but no. I found my wallet at the house. No, it is just so dumb that I put groceries on credit like it was 1900 or something!”

“Yes, I can see how that would be embarrassing. Listen, what did this good looking man look like?”

Thinking of him spread warmth throughout my body with a curious shiver going down my spine. “To tell you the truth, Gladis, I didn’t get a thorough look because I was too busy being surprised, then tripping over my own feet. But he had the bluest eyes I think I’ve ever seen. They were like the pictures you see of the Caribbean ocean, but the deeper parts. Clear, deep blue. Shockingly blue, even.

“He was wearing plaid, I think. Yuck, plaid. He had jet black hair that was a little long-ish, but not long. A little shorter than Russell Crowe likes to keep his hair.” That comment was met with a confused look.

“You know, like the rugged, outdoorsy Australians like to wear it? Like, boy short, but a little longer than most boys, and with a little wave to it? Not hippy long or unkempt or anything, but enough to grab a handful in cli.....”

I can’t believe I almost said cl**ax! To an old lady!

Her eyes were twinkling. Gross.

“Well, a good style, anyway. And I think he had a bit of scruff on his face. His voice was a deep baritone. He was tall. Must be six-two or something, because he would be taller than me if I was wearing heels, and I am five-six when I stand up straight. And he had this musty smell. But not a bad musty, but like a....like a… I don’t know how to describe it, but it just crawled in my nose and acted like heroine or something. Ohhh it was nice!”

“Hmmmm.”

I quirked my head at the odd reaction, but didn't pursue. It was nice to tell someone about Mr. Hottie, or Apollo, as I had, right or wrong, taken to thinking of him. I didn't know enough to delve deeper.

We moved on to other conversations, always lively without ever lacking a topic or words. I was a babbling moron, always had been, and she a pro at tempering stupidity. Despite the age gap, and social status gap, and most other gaps that existed between two strangers, we had a kindred spirit. We strangely fit together, and by the end of the night, were old friends.

I woke up late the next morning and lounged around the cottage. I unpacked some clothes, took a gloriously hot shower, and primped. It was a new town, I needed to put my best foot forward! Also, I needed to pay that bill—this time I would look decent when I met the workers. With brushed hair and clean teeth!

The day was sublime. A cool breeze with the promise of warmth to follow. I heard a bee buzzing in the distance and smelt fresh flowers in bloom. As I exited the spiked gate, Gladis looked up from a patch of dirt, potted flowers around her.

“Good morning Gladis!” I boomed.

“Ah, good mid-day to you!”

“Can’t be out of the house too early—it’d give the neighbors the wrong impression!”

Gladis chuckled and nodded. “Young ladies don’t want to seem too eager.” She went back to her gardening.

“Do you do all the gardening, Gladis?” I asked in awe, looking over more than a half-acre of front yard.

She didn’t bother stopping her digging this time. “No, dear. This is a hobby. Gardening in the sunshine is good for the soul.”

Getting a tan by the pool was more my speed, but I let it go.

I was at the Piggily Wiggly pretty quick. Weird ass name for a grocery store—I was expecting a pig farm at first—but it was as normal a store as Safeway, so what did I know? No Apollo’s this time; no tripping, no making an ass of myself, no funny business.

Ronnie, ringing people up at one of three active check stands, had obviously worked here for a while. His hands moved quickly and with purpose, moving people along expertly. And judging by his longer line of all older women, he was the young hunk of the supermarket.

Go get ‘em, gals!

When it was my turn, Ronnie recognized me right away. “Hi ya. How’re ya doin’?”

“Great, thanks! I’m just in to pay my tab from the other night. Last night. Found my wallet.” I held up the previously lost treasure and chuckled.

“Oh, well Mr. Davies picked that up for you.”

“Mr. Davies? Who’s that?”

“Oh, Mr. Davies. The guy... I mean, the man that was standing behind you the other night. He just picked up the tab seeing as how it wasn’t much ‘n all.”

Loss for words. “Um. Oh. Uh... Is there an address where I might drop the money by to him?”

Ronnie looked at me funny. “No ma’am. I really shouldn’t give out his address or nuthin’. You’re new here, but I reckon it’ll take a week or so ‘afore you know where he lives.”

“O.k...?” I was not quite sure what that meant. Did he surmise I was a stalker?