Chapter 6 #2
He waved at Alice, who was patiently sitting in the truck, enjoying pats from a passing postal worker.
‘So, a sitcom, huh?’ He shot Zoey a sly glance. ‘What would you call this episode?’
‘The One with the Mushroom Farmer,’ she said, not missing a beat.
Nick chuckled. ‘Well done. Give me a minute, and I’ll load up the fridge.’
He deftly positioned the fridge on the dolly, which was one of the handy ones built for going up and down stairs, then wheeled it down the pathway and hoisted it up on the truck.
The whole thing took about a minute.
All right, so it was maybe more efficient than Zoey’s Rube Goldberg concepting. But less satisfying.
‘How’s that?’ he asked, opening the truck door for her, and she climbed in. Thankfully, the old truck was positioned much lower to the ground than its giant modern counterparts, so she managed the movement with a modicum of dignity.
Except the bit where Alice immediately French-kissed her.
‘Alice!’ Spluttering, Zoey gave the pup a hug. ‘What a greeting. Nice bandana.’
Nick climbed into the driver’s side and gave Alice a scratch behind the ear. ‘She loves getting dressed up for a trip into the city. She let me trim her nails and everything.’
‘Wow, she is the best girl. My gran’s chihuahua would get so vicious about nail trimming that Gran had to cut four leg holes in a leather handbag and pop the dog into it before each session.’
‘Smart. Leather’s probably decent armour against a chihuahua.’
‘Except the barking,’ pointed out Zoey. She gestured to the right. ‘The shop’s just around the corner, by the way. I’ll direct you.’
Nick started up the truck, and Zoey glanced over at him, feeling shy. ‘Thank you for this. You really didn’t have to.’
He drummed the steering wheel with his thumbs. ‘There’s plenty of stuff we don’t have to do. But I find that it’s usually more rewarding to help someone out. Unless it involves plucking chickens.’
‘That seems like a solid place to draw a line.’
‘I think so.’ Nick pulled the truck out onto the narrow street, arcing around a giant chalked hopscotch game and a cluster of scooters that had been multiplying in front of a bright orange craftsman for the past month or so.
‘Ooh, they’re up to seven,’ Zoey marvelled. ‘I’ll have to let Ainsley know. We have a bet going. She promised me dinner at Lardo if they get to ten.’
‘Ten scooters is quite a collection.’ Nick paused to let a pedestrian wearing Shrek Crocs cross. ‘I play the same game with some of the houses out where the farm is. Only with rusted-out cars.’
‘Any hovering at ten or more?’ asked Zoey curiously.
Nick chuckled. ‘Let’s just say I would single-handedly be keeping Lardo in business.’
‘It’s the logistics of it I’m curious about. If you have a rusted-out car that doesn’t move, how do you go get the next one?’
Nick shot her an amused glance. ‘I’m imagining something like that river-crossing puzzle where the guy in the boat is trying to get his fox, goose, and bag of beans to the other side, but he can only take one at a time. But with friends who also have rusted-out cars.’
‘Or scooters.’ Zoey leaned forward, pointing. ‘If you turn at the intersection with the house with the pirate ship in the yard, it’s the building on the corner. You can just park on the side road.’
‘Pirate ship … oh shit, you’re not kidding.’
‘So much better than a treehouse, right?’
‘Depends on your thoughts about pirates.’ Nick parked the truck and hopped out, coming over to open Zoey’s door.
Wow, a gentleman.
Zoey climbed out, directing Alice to follow. The cattle dog cheerfully shook, shedding all over like a dandelion in a stiff breeze.
‘I hope you don’t mind some white dog hair as an accessory,’ said Nick, with a grimace. ‘She’s practically a porcupine, just launching her fur at people.’
‘At people, huh?’ said Zoey.
Nick grinned. ‘At pretty girls who own smoothie shops.’
Zoey coughed. This flushed-cheeks business was becoming a chronic condition. ‘I didn’t know there were so many smoothie shops around,’ she managed, as she unlocked the back gate.
There was a small patio back here, with some rickety outdoor seating around a firepit, soft string lights and an explosion of lavender that lent a soft perfume to the place.
The patio wasn’t open to the public: Zoey would read here when the weather permitted, and Terriffany would work on her assignments with her friends.
(In addition to her work at the smoothie shop, Terriffany was also the CMO of a beaded pen company she’d cofounded with two of her high-achieving classmates.
They did a roaring trade at the craft markets, and had even started putting in appearances at the First Thursday art walks.)
Nick hoisted the fridge onto the dolly and rolled it across the courtyard, then ran back to grab the mushrooms that were the actual reason he was here.
Yep, the mushrooms. Just the mushrooms. There was definitely no other reason he might be here right now.
He definitely wasn’t interested in Zoey.
And even if he were, it wasn’t like she was going to return said interest. That way lay heartbreak.
And the annoyance that was having to change all the passwords on your streaming accounts.
Was he wearing cologne? Or did he just naturally smell that good?
‘The storeroom’s back here.’ Unlocking the back door, she showed him the back area of the shop, which was cramped with fridges, the dehydrator and the spare ice maker.
‘Wow, this place is organised,’ said Nick, marvelling at the neatly labelled shelves and the orderly containers of herbs and spices.
‘I’m a whiz with a label maker,’ admitted Zoey. ‘Being ridiculously organised is how I keep from falling totally apart.’
‘Fair,’ said Nick. ‘How do you do your bookshelves?’
‘By colour.’
As if.
She took the bag of mushrooms from him, trying not to gasp as their fingers brushed. Stowing the bag of mushrooms in the fridge that was actually working – she’d pop them in the dehydrator later – she turned back to him, taking in his raised eyebrow.
‘Fine. Alphabetical by author. Except for non-fiction and the large-format ones. And Frog and Toad. They have their own bookshelf.’
All right, so she was testing her Frog and Toad theory. It was just a little test. Nothing would come of it, most likely.
Nick inhaled nervously. ‘You’re going to hate my place. My shelves are chaos. But I do have a Frog and Toad T-shirt.’
Zoey gasped. She’d never heard a more romantic sentence spoken. ‘You don’t.’
‘I’ll wear it next time.’
Next time. Was Zoey correct in thinking that this was perhaps not just a polite business transaction where mushrooms were exchanged for money?
She could feel her eyes twinkling. Dammit. ‘Do you pair it with a cardigan?’
‘In true Frog and Toad style.’
She hesitated. ‘So, thanks for the mushrooms. And for helping with the fridge. Um …’
His dark eyes were boring into hers, although he was keeping a polite distance, as much as she didn’t particularly want him to.
If she were a different type of business owner, she’d grab his shirt and shove him down on top of the ice maker and have her way with him.
But there were shop-wide security cameras sending everything to the cloud (which Terriffany checked for analytics purposes).
And the presence of all the mushrooms. Ugh, all those spores.
‘How about,’ she started to suggest, even as her sense of self-preservation screamed, No, don’t do it! Think of the heartbreak! He will let you down! Remember the Trent Reznor lyric!
Shut up, Trent Reznor.
‘How about I make us a smoothie – a proper adult one – and then maybe we can hit the town?’
Nick’s grin was infectious. ‘Hit the town? If only my grandma were around to join us. We could kick up our heels. Cut a rug. Trip the light fantastic.’
Zoey barely restrained a snort. Dammit, she was enthralled. ‘I see there’s a thesaurus lurking in your haphazardly arranged books. Through here.’
Grabbing a bottle of rum from an ancient cabinet, Zoey led Nick through to the main shop area.
‘It’s cute,’ he said approvingly. ‘Very … wholesome. I can feel the toxins leaving my body already.’
‘Until you get a few shots of rum into you, anyway.’ Zoey brandished the rum. ‘Any fruit preferences?’
‘I trust your judgement,’ he said. ‘Unless you’re a honeydew girl.’
Zoey scowled. ‘I can’t believe you hold me in such low esteem.’