Chapter Twelve
Tina loved kittens, but after she sent Gracie pictures of Cleo holding her two and Mae with hers, she headed up the stairs with Walker right behind her. If Mae’s new babies had been Tina’s new pets, she would have named them Holly and Molly after her two dolls.
“Waylon and Willie, if two of them are boys,” came Walker’s voice.
“How did you know I was thinking about names?” she asked.
Walker leaned against the door after she entered the sitting room, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankle.
Her heart tossed in an extra beat, and her breath caught in her chest. She’d always thought he was sexy, but that pose looked like it belonged on the front of a romance novel.
“Because I can read your mind,” he replied.
“Oh, yeah? Then what names was I thinking about?”
“You switched channels before I could figure that out. Hey, do you want to have a beer with me?”
Tina’s eyes widened. “Where did you get beer? Cleo and Mae fussed that it was . . .” She tried to think of what they called it, but too much whiskey had run under the bridge since they’d talked about liquor when they were teenagers.
“‘That foul stuff,’” he finished for her and grinned. “They might not like beer, but, honey, they keep some really good apple pie moonshine in the cellar. I’m sure they bring it out to go with the brownies on quilting nights.”
“Sweet Jesus! I knew about the weed, but I never saw them drink anything at all. Evidently, I only thought I knew them,” she said.
“To answer your question, I have a small refrigerator in my room. There’s usually a few in there, if you ever want one.”
“Then yes, please, and thank you.” Another spark flashed between them when she brushed his shoulder on the way into the room. She bit back a sigh for wanting what she could not have, went straight to one of the wingback chairs across from the love seat, and sank down into it.
“Afraid to sit beside me?” Walker teased.
“Don’t trust myself after a beer or two,” she said in a joking tone, but it was partly the truth.
He twisted the top off a bottle and handed it to her. “Oh, really? I thought you Irish were weaned from the bottle straight to whiskey.”
“And I thought Native Americans couldn’t hold their liquor.”
He removed the cap from his beer and sprawled out on the love seat. “Darlin’, I’m half Walker and Bull’s grandson. I could drink you under the table.”
“Don’t let your Harley-Davidson mouth get ahead of your bicycle butt,” she told him. “How many beers do you have stashed away in that tiny fridge, anyway?”
“Four more, but I’ve got a bottle of Jameson that hasn’t even been opened,” he said. “Isn’t that your poison of choice?”
“Used to be, but that stuff causes problems, so I stick to a beer every so often these days.”
“Want to explain?”
She turned up her bottle and took a long drink before she answered.
“I was drunk on Jameson shots when I messed up my shoulder and lost my scholarship, and had too many of the same when I agreed to move in with the boyfriend from hell. I don’t touch anything harder than this beer, and that’s limited to one, but I do love a good cold one on a hot day. ”
“Then I’ll have to save the Jameson for a special occasion, when we are locked in a room together and neither of us can make a bad decision,” Walker said.
Being locked in a room with you would be a bad decision, she thought, and hoped that she hadn’t said the words out loud.
“Isn’t tonight a special time? Your store is still standing. The ladies have found four kitties to love on, and Iris didn’t drown either of them.”
His smile lit up the room. “Nope. Has to be better than all that. I bought it for us to share. I’ll leave it up to you to tell me when.”
“Are you flirting with me, Walker Cosay?”
“Naw, we’re just friends, aren’t we?” he answered.
“Yep, that’s right. Good night.”
“You didn’t finish your beer and it’s still early.”
“It would be a shame to waste good beer,” she said even though she really wanted to get away from him and analyze all these feelings that kept popping up every time they were alone together.
He grinned. “Yes, it would.”
“But we’ve got a big day ahead of us with all the cleanup and repairs. We’ll need to rebuild Cleo’s greenhouse, too. It’s the least we can do, since we live here free of charge.”
“Way ahead of you. I’ll order the materials tomorrow. It’s a good thing she’s got several bunches of dried stuff in the basement, or the quilting ladies would have to eat plain old brownies.”
She drank the last of her beer, set the empty bottle on the coffee table, and stood up. “See you tomorrow morning. Wouldn’t it be a shame if all they had was apple pie moonshine?”
“It surely would,” Walker answered. “But by the time they are back in the quilting business next fall, I would imagine that Cleo will be ready to harvest a crop of her special spice. The quilt they have finished needs to be hemmed, and Cleo and Mae are working on that while we’re at the store each day.
They won’t start making another one until October, so Cleo will have three months to get her new ‘poinsettia plants’ up and growing. ”
“With what?” Tina asked. “Does she buy seed from an online store or what?”
“She stores the best of a season in the basement, too. She probably has enough to put in a full-fledged business,” Walker chuckled.
“I really am behind on what goes on in Benson,” Tina said with a smile. “Good night, again.”
“Good night,” he said. “Sleep tight.”
She finished the old adage for him. “And don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
The next morning Tina leaned back in the office chair and rolled her neck to get the kinks out.
She had slept poorly the night before and had taken advantage of a slow morning—which had seemed to last for a week—to catch up on computer work while Walker fixed the roof.
Everyone in town was either helping with cleanup or else repairing their own damage and didn’t have the time or inclination to shop or buy paint or feed.
Too bad Walker didn’t sell sheets of plywood. He could have made a fortune.
The bell above the door echoed back through the store, and the noise caused Tina to jerk forward in her chair. She hurried from the office through the aisle with boxes of screws and nails and found a curvy brunette with big green eyes staring at her.
The woman laid a hand on her very pregnant belly. “So, it’s true. You did come back to town.”
“Yes, I did, and I recognize your voice but . . .” Tina frowned.
She stuck out her hand. “The former Yolanda McKinney. I was a sophomore when you and Walker graduated from good old BHS.”
Tina shook with her and then dropped her hand. “I remember you now. You were on the academic team and played basketball.”
“That’s me, but now I look like I swallowed the ball rather than dribbled it.” She laughed at her own joke. “Is Walker around?”
Tina’s eyes went straight to Yolanda’s pregnant belly, and her mind ran around in circles. The woman looked like she was at least five months along. If Walker was the father, did he know about the baby? Was that the reason why he had said that they were just friends the night before?
“He’s here but he’s on the roof,” Tina answered.
“Could you call him? I would like to speak to him, but I only have a few minutes.”
“Sure thing.” Tina took her phone from her hip pocket and made the call. “You have a visitor.”
“Be there in a minute,” Walker said. “I just need to put in a couple more nails and then climb down the ladder. Who is it?”
“Someone from your past, evidently,” Tina said, and ended the call.
“I dated Walker a while back. We broke up just before Christmas,” Yolanda told her.
Tina did the math, and like DNA, it did not lie.
“Why did y’all break up?” Tina asked, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my business. I don’t know why I even asked.”
“No problem. It’s kind of your fault, so you might as well know,” Yolanda answered with a wink. “He uttered your name one night—and at the worst possible time, when he should have said mine. That’s when I knew he wasn’t over you, and until he was, there was no room for me. So I called it quits.”
“But . . .” Tina’s cheeks burned with a blush. “We’ve always been just friends.”
“Does Walker know that?”
“Hey, where are you?” Walker’s deep voice floated down the aisle.
“At the front with our company,” Tina called back and tried to quiet all the voices in her head.
“Well, hello, Yolanda,” he said when he saw her. “When did you . . .” His voice trailed off when his eyes landed on her stomach.
“Hello, Walker,” she said cheerfully. “I was on my way down to Amarillo and stopped by to see if the rumors about Tina coming back to town were true. Guess they are.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice sounded hollow.
“Tell you what? That I was in town or that I wondered if Tina had come home?” she asked.
His eyes were still on her belly. “What happened?”
“Well, darlin’, I either swallowed half a watermelon or a beach ball,” she answered.
“They aren’t yours, Walker, so you can stop sweating.
But I’m having triplets. That’s why I look like I’m already six months instead of only three.
I’ll be as big as a full-grown elephant before these little guys make their appearance.
The doctor has already said that I’ll be on bed rest for a couple of months. ”
“Who . . . What . . . When . . . ,” he stammered. “Three boys?”