Picnic in Someday Valley (Honey Creek #2)(38)

People don’t just bump together and start mating.

If he hadn’t had his barn full of horses, Jesse might have driven into town and had a talk with the redheaded baker. But the morning before the storm hit, trailers delivered a dozen horses from individuals who kept their pet horse in little more than a backyard. A pony is a grand gift to give your kid, but it takes a hell of a lot more work than a dog.

When the storm ended, every one of the one-horse owners had called to ask if Jesse could board the horses a few more days, maybe a week. Jesse didn’t mind. It was work and it meant three hundred sixty a day extra coming in. If they did board for the week, it would add up to over two thousand dollars. He could use the money.

Plus, when he worked in the barn he had time to think about Adalee. He’d never been a spontaneous kind of guy. So why had he kissed her like the world was about to end? He’d kissed her in a church, of all places. Well, it was in the hallway of a church. That didn’t sound so bad. After all, she was the one who kissed him first. He had no idea where he got the idea to give her a kiss back.

He had kissed her!

It didn’t make sense. He liked women who were petite and blond. Beth had only been five-two, and she wore her hair in a pixie cut. She was so cute. The kind of woman who gets called a girl even after her children are grown.

Adalee was nothing like her. She wasn’t fat but she wasn’t small, either. She was about two inches shorter than he was, making her five-eight or five-nine and just right to kiss. They hadn’t talked much, so he had no idea if they had anything in common. Probably not. He’d bet she never lived on a farm. He rationed happiness and fun. She was the type who went full out wild. Glitter in her hair and maybe a tattoo. Fact was, she downright terrified him. The baker was not predictable and apparently it was rubbing off on him.

Jesse burned the first grilled cheese sandwich he was cooking for the kids. He started over and went back to thinking. You’d think cooking the same meal every other day would get easier. He tried cooking other things, but the boys liked order, sameness. Maybe they needed it for a while. So, he went back to thinking of the baker as he tried to make what might be his thousandth grilled sandwich.

He didn’t know who, or what, Adalee was. All he knew was that they shared one thing. Touch. No, two things. They both didn’t want to talk. That was fine with him. He didn’t know what to say anyway. But he wouldn’t mind touching her again, if she was willing.

If he ever had time to get to town. There were way too many ifs in his life right now.

He’d decided to concentrate on cleaning up after the storm, even though his place didn’t flood. The winds had made a mess of the barn roof, and taking care of a dozen horses kept him even busier than usual. The grandmothers agreed to drive out every morning and relay the kids to school, but Jesse had to go into town to pick them up by five. Both ladies said they wouldn’t mind keeping them later if he needed to finish work before driving in.

After dragging branches off to burn all the next morning, Jesse decided to clean up and go into town early. He thought he’d check to see how Honey Creek had weathered the storm, pick up some more supplies for the horses, and then buy something sweet before he collected the kids.

When he walked into the bakery an hour before school was due to let out, he still hadn’t figured out how he should act around Adalee. Should he be a polite stranger, or should he smile and say “Afternoon, beautiful”?

He wasn’t the “Afternoon, beautiful” type. Maybe he should just stick with “Hello” and order a pie or something.

The conflict over what to say was void. Adalee wasn’t behind the counter. The lady taking orders was about fifty and didn’t look happy.

“Afternoon,” Jesse managed without any enthusiasm. “Where is Adalee?”

“Hell if I know.” The woman, with a frown that looked tattooed on, answered. “I work in the back from seven to eleven, mostly doing cleanup and prep. She called me over as I’m packing up and asked me to stay until closing.”

The woman leaned on the counter like it was a fence gate. “I got varicose veins. I’m not meant to be on my feet for more than four hours. Now, all at once, I’m a saleslady. There better be more pay for having to put up with people. One idiot after another wandered in. Whaddaya want?”

Jesse frowned. No free coffee. No donuts for the kids. No Adalee. “A pie.”

The woman’s frown turned into a sneer. “I ain’t no mind reader, mister. What kind of pie do you want?”

“What kind you got?”

She pointed to a list posted behind the counter.

“Apple.” He went with the first on the list.

“We just ran out of apple.”

“Peach.”

“We’ve only got two slices left. If you want a whole pie it’s chocolate or coconut.”

“I’ll take a whole coconut pie and two dozen donut holes.” He felt like he’d just played Jeopardy! and ended up minus any money.

As she boxed up the pie, she said, “We don’t sell bags of two dozen holes. They come twelve to a bag or thirty-six.”

“Give me two bags of twelve and put them in the same bag.”

“Can’t do that. No mixing the bags. You want a bag of twelve or thirty-six?”

He gave up. “Two bags of twelve might work.”