CHAPTER NINE
“I can’t believe I got so many books,” Whitney lamented as they carried two sacks’ worth of paperbacks into the house. Her shoulders drooped with effort, but she’d gladly carry twice as many tomes. It isn’t hoarding if it’s books, right?
Daisy followed her, weighed down with her own finds. “I told you, sugar. You can’t go wrong with The Cracked Spine. Their romance section can’t be beat.”
Whitney couldn’t remember such a lovely day in recent memory. She’d met with Kim to discuss the job and was set to start the following day. They agreed on a wage that Whitney thought was too generous for being a clerk, but Kim insisted was the least she could do. Then Daisy took her out to lunch at a noodle bar that had the best ramen she’d ever eaten.
Daisy pulled off her hat and fluffed her hair. “Why don’t you meet me in my room in a few minutes, and I’ll fix us some sweet tea? I’d love to show you my romance book collection.” She rubbed her hands together, bracelets clacking.
“Deal.” Whitney washed up and let Gus outside for a moment before joining Daisy in her room.
It was the master bedroom, and it looked exactly like what Daisy’s room should look like. A vase of fresh flowers, her namesake, sat on the nightstand. Framed photos of her children and late husband filled the opposite nightstand, along with a small stack of books.
Against the far wall were four lengths of bookshelves, each stacked two-deep with romance books. Their red, pink, and purple spines looked like prized jewels to Whitney, who eagerly started perusing the collection.
Daisy carried in two glasses of tea and placed them on the windowsill. Gus followed her in and jumped onto her bed, his eyes already drooping with fatigue. “You silly hound,” Daisy said lovingly, patting his head and kissing his snout before joining Whitney at the bookshelves.
“You have an amazing collection,” Whitney said as her finger trailed over the spines, recognizing some of her favorite authors.
The collection spanned both new releases, modern classics, and old standards like Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. There were at least thirty of Darla Champaign’s books, and Whitney couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their first meeting at The Pecan Pit. Whitney still marveled at the fact that spotting one of her favorite romance books would lead to everything that had transpired. She had a new, although likely temporary, job, and had found friends that already felt like family.
Returning her attention to the books, she ran her fingers along the edge of the shelf. Every book looked like it had been read and thoroughly enjoyed, their spines cracked and pages worn. Whitney pulled out a historical romance she hadn’t read before and studied the cover. It was prime Fabio, with an unbuttoned shirt and heroine splayed across his lap. “That one is hotter than it looks,” Daisy said with a wink. “Feel free to borrow it and report back later.” Spying another book next to it, Daisy snatched it and handed it to Whitney. “But read this first—it’s our book club book for next month.”
Whitney raised an eyebrow. “You’re inviting me to your book club?”
Daisy sniffed, covering her nose. “Sugar, we agreed you’re living here. You just agreed to work for my friend, and fellow book clubber, and you’ve proven you know more about romance books than I do. You’d think I’d let you miss out on the joy of book club? Bless your heart.”
Taking the proffered book, Whitney held it to her chest as she fought back tears. “I’m sorry, it’s ...”
It’s just that at the beginning of the year she thought she had a good life. She had a boyfriend who loved her, a job placement she didn’t hate, and a general rosy view of the world around her. Fast forward to now, and Whitney hadn’t known true happiness in far too long.
Yes, her love life was far from perfect, but a seed of hope threatened to bloom if she let it. Trevor was kind, sweet-natured, and treated his family well. These were attributes she’d let slide with Baxter, but those days were done. Whitney wouldn’t be blinded by platitudes and flashy gifts; she was ready for more, something real.
Whitney rallied. “Thank you. I don’t mean to get all weepy, but you’ve treated me better this week than people I’ve known for years. It’s taking some getting used to is all.” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that Daisy handed her.
“No worries, sugar. Feel free to tell me to mind my business.” She let out a long breath and sat on the edge of the bed, making room for Whitney to join her. “Now, I know you’ve had your heart run through the meat grinder, and that’s nothing you can overcome like that.” She snapped her fingers to punctuate her point.
Whitney nodded, but it wasn’t merely Baxter’s carelessness that wounded her. “I agree, but I’m not even thinking about Baxter anymore. It’s more that he made me feel worthless. I’m not pining over him, Daisy, rest assured it’s my pride I’m more worried about, not my heart.”
Sensing she needed a moment, Daisy whistled for Gus to follow her out the room. “Why don’t you take a few minutes, and I’ll get the fixings for dinner ready?”
Whitney opened her mouth to offer help, but Daisy was faster. “You’ve done more than enough today. Now crack open one of those books so we can start discussing your thoughts on pirates vs. Vikings.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Whitney saluted with her free hand.
She let herself into her room and stacked the books on the small desk in the corner. Selecting a title, she eased onto the bed and read the first two chapters before the day caught up to her and she fell asleep.
An hour later, she woke to the sounds of clattering pans and Gus barking excitedly. She jumped from the bed, pinched some color into her cheeks, and ran her fingers through her dark curls to dissipate the bedhead.
As she reached the doorway to the kitchen, she heard hushed voices. One of them was low, clearly a man’s, and Daisy’s voice seemed strained. Since the man’s voice wasn’t Trevor’s, she dipped her head over the threshold to investigate. A man in his late fifties stood in the kitchen, clad in a navy-blue fireman’s uniform. Unlike Trevor’s, his chest was decorated with adornments of a higher rank. Judging from the concerned look on his face, she wagered it was Paul.
“Honey, I tried to tell him today, but we got a call.” He reached out, resting his hands on Daisy’s shoulders, his brow knit in concern.
Daisy nodded, leaning into his touch with a sigh. “I know, but he’s not going to handle this well without knowing the full story. He hates being in the dark, especially with family.”
“We’ll tell him together. That should have been the plan all along, because it isn’t just your or my news to share.”
Tipping her head up to meet Paul’s gaze, Daisy wilted a little. “I should tell him. He’s had a rough summer, and his ego took a hit. Waltzing into family dinner with his boss as my ...”
“Boyfriend,” Paul said the word with conviction, melting Whitney’s heart with his concern for Daisy. “Although that title doesn’t seem right for what we are.”
Daisy’s head fell forward, her forehead resting over Paul’s heart. “I need a little time to tell him everything. Okay? I’m not ashamed of us, but I’m worried for Trevor.”
“Okay, that’s your call.” Paul dropped his arms to his sides and turned around to find Whitney spying in the hallway. She jumped when their eyes locked.
“So sorry, I heard voices, but I’m leaving.” She held her hands up like she was being arrested. In her haste to retreat, she tripped over her own feet and fell against the wall with a sad thud. “Oof,” she exhaled, steadying herself against the doorjamb.
Daisy sidestepped Paul and reached out for Whitney’s arm, pulling her into the kitchen. “Don’t be silly, sugar. You need to meet Paul.”
Paul stepped up and held out his hand for her to shake. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you, Whitney. Welcome to Pinegrove.”
“Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Paul. Daisy and Trevor have had nothing but nice things to say about you.” She smiled when he relaxed at her words. He seemed like a nice man trying to do the right thing—in other words, he was perfect for Daisy. “Are you joining us for dinner?” she asked.
Paul winced and faced Daisy. “That’s entirely up to our fair hostess.”
Daisy hurried to the stove to stir a pot. “There’s plenty of food. Please stay, but I’d like it to be as a friend. I will talk to Trevor, but not tonight.”
“That’s fine. Let me set the table.” Paul went to work, pulling out dishes and glasses, proving he was more than comfortable in Daisy’s home.
Not for the first time, Whitney feared she’d be cramping the other woman’s style. As Paul went into the pantry in search of more napkins, Whitney snagged Daisy’s hand and whispered, “Do you need me to make myself scarce?”
Daisy scoffed. “Right now? Sugar, I appreciate the willingness to play wingman, but Paul and I can wait to have a moment.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“What? No, not now. I mean in general. You likely entertain here, and I don’t want to be in the way of your life. I really can find a hotel or something.”
Daisy tapped her wooden spoon on the side of the pot before pointing it at Whitney. In an exacerbated tone, Daisy scolded her. “Listen, young lady, and listen good. Not only are you welcome in this home, but there is still the matter of not having hotels available. I’m a grown-ass woman, and if I want to have a”—she lowered her voice—“booty call, I’m perfectly able to drive to Paul’s house.”
The color drained from Whitney’s face as Paul appeared sans napkins. “Honey, I cannot find the napkins anywhere.”
“Honey?” Trevor asked, a look of confusion on his face and two bouquets in his hands.
Daisy whirled around and practically pushed Whitney into her son’s path. Catching herself in the nick of time, Whitney clung to the edge of the counter. “Trevor, I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
Trevor pursed his lips, his eyes darting back and forth between his boss and mother. Whitney tried to make herself small, hunching her shoulders forward to escape what was surely a family matter.
“I didn’t think I needed to schedule my visit,” he said, the muscles in his neck tense as he stepped closer to Whitney. “These are for you.” He pressed one of the bouquets, a lovely assortment of summery blooms in an array of pinks and purples, into her hands. Turning to his mother, he handed her a gorgeous array of daisies. “I’m sorry, Chief. If I had known you’d be here, I would have picked up some roses.”
Paul laughed, but his eyes remained tense. “I’m more of a dahlia man myself,” he teased, but Trevor didn’t crack.
“Chief Warren was in the neighborhood, and I invited him to supper.” Daisy gestured to the table set for four and the oversized pot on the stove. “I’m making gumbo—everyone, take a seat.”
Whitney sniffed her flowers and smiled. Despite the tension in the room, it had been years since a man bought her flowers. Baxter always told her they were a waste of money, so she never bothered asking for any. They’ll be dead in a few days. Why bother?
Idly, she wondered if his fiancée was the one getting all the flowers. Little trinkets and tokens of affection had never been Baxter’s forte, and Whitney had let that be. Now though, she wondered if she had been a placeholder while he wined and dined the real woman in his life.
If she would have been back in Savannah, Whitney would have let that notion ruin her evening. But the air was heavy with the aroma of sausage, peppers, and flowers, and she didn’t want to give Baxter freaking Hollingsworth another moment of her time.
Instead, she put Daisy and her flowers in water and took a seat at the table. Paul sat with his hands in his lap, his gaze anywhere but on Daisy and Trevor. Trevor looked as miserable as he toyed with his fork and spoon.
It was going to be a long night, but at least it wasn’t her drama. Not yet anyway ...
*
“W ell, isn’t this a lovely surprise?” Daisy said as she ladled heaping servings of gumbo into everyone’s bowls.
“This looks delightful, hon ...” Chief Warren cleared his throat before chugging half of his sweet tea. “Excuse me, Daisy. I have a frog in my throat.” He flashed a smile to Whitney, who looked too uncomfortable for Trevor’s taste.
Her beautiful eyes were downcast, and she’d hardly said a word since she thanked him for the flowers. Trevor wished he had a little time with her, because he wanted to see what was troubling her. The last he’d heard, she and his mother planned a full day on the town. He wondered if they’d had another run-in with Virginia, or maybe her job at Kim’s shop fell through?
Trevor reached for his napkin, finding a paper towel instead. “I can run to the market for you tomorrow, Momma. Looks like you’re out of a few things?”
“Thanks, sugar, but I’ll handle it. I know you’re busy.”
Trevor swallowed his retort, since the reason he wasn’t very busy was currently seated to his left. To his right was the real reason he wanted to be busy, but she wasn’t meeting his gaze. Something was up.
“Did something happen today?” he asked, his voice low so only Whitney heard.
Her expression shifted for an instant before she recovered. “No, it was a lovely day. Daisy and I went shopping. You should see my book haul. I would be embarrassed if it didn’t make me so happy.” She paused her story to take a bite of gumbo, covering her mouth as she chewed. “Oh, and we stopped by Kim’s shop.”
Chief interrupted. “Daisy said she’s worried about Kim’s workload. How’d everything look when you stopped by?”
His mother had been saying? Okay, Trevor was officially about to lose his mind. “And when ...”
“Cornbread!” Daisy shouted, springing to her feet so quickly she nearly tripped over Gus on her way to the oven. “I nearly forgot.” She made a show of shoving on hot pads and narrating her actions as she pulled out a golden pan of cornbread. Temporarily distracted, she cut everyone a slice before passing the butter.
Whitney heaved a forkful in her mouth and hummed her approval. “Daisy, you need to share your recipe. I haven’t had gumbo this good since my nana passed.”
“No secret family recipe here, I’m afraid. Just something I picked up from the church ladies. First you need to find a couple sweet onions ...” For nearly ten minutes, his mother painstakingly described the entire gumbo-making process, from the roux to the best types of sausages.
Whitney hung on every word like she was learning state secrets, not a basic recipe. She ooh ed and ahh ed at all the right moments, as if she was a guest on the Food Network.
For his part, Chief Warren seemed enraptured. Trevor had seen the man eat everything at the station from canned soup and corn flakes to barbecue and frozen pizzas. Yet he’d never shared much in the way of a glimpse into his personal skills in the kitchen. “And you don’t blanch the vegetables ahead of time?” he marveled, jaw nearly unhinged.
Trevor snorted into his glass of water. “Momma, as thrilling as the nuances of dicing vegetables are,” he said, hiding his smirk behind a forkful of food, “what else happened today?”
Whitney perked up at his question and beamed. “Well, since you asked.” She dabbed at the corners of her lush mouth with her paper towel. Trevor would give his next paycheck for the chance to reach out and kiss her lips clean.
Daisy sprung to her feet and went in search of more drinks for the table. As she walked past the chief, her hand rested on his shoulder as she refilled his water glass. Considering she did the same thing with Whitney and himself, Trevor tried not to read too much into it. This evening had crossed into Bizarro World territory already.
“Yes, sugar, tell Trevor all about it.”
Trevor helped himself to another spoonful of gumbo as Whitney lit up the room with her smile. “I don’t want to brag, y’all, but you’re looking at the newest clerk at Kim’s Creations.” She did jazz hands and giggled.
Paul clapped and Trevor joined in the applause. “Darlin’, this is great news. Congratulations.” It was great news for a lot of reasons, the most obvious she’d be sticking around Pinegrove. He was far from done spending time with this woman.
“Kim runs a fine store. She’s lucky to have you,” Paul agreed, shooting Whitney an encouraging thumbs-up.
“That’s what I keep telling her, Paul.”
Whitney’s head dipped low as she absorbed everyone’s praise. “It’s a retail job, you’re the ones saving lives.”
Trevor opened his mouth to say he wasn’t saving much of anything lately, but instead, he rallied. “I’m pretty sure Kim would say you’re saving her life, darlin’. Don’t sell yourself short.” He kept his gaze locked on her profile until she turned and faced him. Her cheeks plumped as she smiled, and his heart squeezed. Those smiles were quickly becoming an addiction.
“I’d say this calls for dessert. Anyone want pie?”
“You had time to bake a pie today?” Whitney was incredulous. “I’m still trying to figure out how you made gumbo since we came back from our day on the town.” Rising, Whitney stacked the dirty dishes and started loading the dishwasher.
Chief joined her at the counter and started scrubbing the pots and pans. Daisy poured herself a glass of sweet tea and eased back into her chair, studying the domestic scene. “A girl could get used to this,” she teased, elbowing her son in the side.
“Considering we’re about to get pie, we’re all winners.” Whitney put the last dish in the dishwasher as she picked up a towel to dry the pots. When she got to the last one, she held it up and asked where it went.
“On that hook over the island,” Chief said, wiping down the stovetop with a sponge.
Trevor slowly turned to his mother, who looked very interested in the pattern on the placemats. The chief seemed awfully familiar with the layout of his mother’s kitchen—of his mother’s favorite place on this planet. “How does—?”
“I’ll start slicing that pie,” his mother interrupted, patting his hand as she stood and pulled the pie from the fridge. “Anyone want ice cream?”
Whitney rubbed her stomach and grumbled. “I probably shouldn’t have the pie, to be honest. I’ve fallen off the wagon since I arrived in Pinegrove.” Looking down at herself, she frowned. “Actually, I don’t think I’ve been on the wagon since I stopped playing with Barbie dolls.”
Daisy swatted Whitney’s hip with a tea towel. “Hush up, sugar. I won’t have that talk in my house. You’re gorgeous, and that’s that.”
Trevor swallowed past a lump in his throat. The look of determination on Whitney’s face to deject herself put a sour taste in his mouth. Sure, she was curvy, but she was stunning. As soon as Trevor watched Javi walk up to Whitney in The Pecan Pit, he knew he had to meet her. She was effortlessly pretty, with soft curls and even softer curves. Whoever put this poor image in her head needed to pay.
“Why don’t you and Chief get the patio table set for dessert? A night this lovely deserves al fresco pie.”
Daisy nodded, reaching out and directing Paul by his elbow. “We’ll see you kids outside.”
Whitney didn’t turn around at first, busying herself with folding the damp towels and hanging them from the stove handles. Trevor approached her slowly, afraid he’d spook her right out of this house and all of Pinegrove.
“Whitney, if you think ...”
Spinning around to face him, she offered a sad smile. “Trevor, please don’t. I’ve been battling my body issues and weight since I got my first training bra. It’s between me and my darned brain.” She tapped her temple and sighed.
“Well, if I get a say in the matter,” he replied, stepping closer until they were only a foot apart. “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you since I got here.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure that’s because I had sauce on my mouth.”
“And you wore it beautifully.” He reached out, smoothing his thumb over her cheek. Her skin was smooth and flawless, just like the undriven snow he’d seen on their family vacation to Banff.
She closed her eyes as his thumb smoothed down to her lips, caressing over the tender skin once before he reluctantly pulled back. He wanted more from this woman, but he wasn’t about to make a move in his mother’s kitchen with his boss out back.
As if sensing the shift in the air, Gus arrived at their feet and barked his discomfort. “Looks like our boy needs a nature break,” Whitney said, leaning down to rub behind the hound’s ears.
Our boy . Trevor liked the sound of that, a little too much.
He and Virginia rarely shared ownership of anything during their relationship. She was fiercely independent, yet simultaneously dependent on her father’s approval—and the CVC code on his major credit cards. Despite putting a ring on her finger, they’d never discussed their future in detail. He assumed they’d have kids and get a Gus of their own, but with just two words from Whitney, he was ready to pick out baby names and find a house with a two-car garage. He wanted a future with this woman, and he didn’t know how to get it.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, kids, but I need to go. We had two call-offs from the C shift, and no one is available to come in.” Chief sauntered into the kitchen and pulled his uniform jacket from the back of his chair.
“Can I help, sir?” Trevor offered, but the older man shook his head.
Chief rested his hands on his hips. “We’ve been through this, son. I’m Paul when we’re off the clock.” He admonished Trevor, but kept going. “I should only need to be there through the first half of the shift.” He shrugged. “At least I can finish up some of those reports. Thank you for dinner, Daisy. As always, it was delicious.”
Daisy practically bloomed from his praise, and it rankled Trevor. The trouble was, he wasn’t sure why.
“Let me get you some pie to go,” Daisy insisted, strolling over to the pantry to retrieve a roll of aluminum foil. A minute later, she walked the chief outside, leaving them with a very impatient Gus.
He woofed, head-butting Trevor in the shin. “And it looks like we forgot about our buddy here.” He laughed, opening the back door as Gus loped out and relieved himself on Daisy’s favorite shrub.
“I’ll meet you out there with some pie,” Whitney suggested, already turning to slice and serve the rest of dessert.
Trevor headed outside to ensure Gus didn’t try to escape through the gap in the fence. He leaned against the railing of the deck and sighed into the cooling night air. He had so many memories in this old house, he’d lost track. Happy times like holidays and birthdays with the four of them laughing, always surrounded by love.
Even after two years, Trevor missed his father with a fierceness that worried him. His therapist loved to remind him how much progress he’d made in that time, but at the end of the day, he still missed his old man. Even as he thought back to tonight’s dinner, he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy himself. Having Whitney at the table filled him with a sense of hope so tangible, he was surprised he couldn’t reach into his own ribcage and hold it.
His mother seemed to enjoy herself, too. He hadn’t seen that particular look on her face since losing his father. Kicking at a loose deck board, Trevor sighed. Who was he kidding? All signs pointed to his mother and the chief dating. It seemed like all of Pinegrove knew it, and perhaps deep down he knew it too. Trevor recognized he had to pull his head out of his own ass, needed to have a conversation with his mother.
Before he could chastise himself further, Whitney appeared with his dessert. Their fingers grazed as she handed him a slice of peach pie surrounded by ice cream scoops. “Daisy said you like extra ice cream, but let me know if I went overboard.”
Trevor pretended to drop the plate, as if it weighed a metric ton. “I don’t know, darlin’. I think you could have fit another scoop on the corner here.” He pointed with his fork, earning him a theatrical eye roll that had no right being that cute. God, this woman ...
Thoughts of his mother’s love life forgotten, Trevor focused on this goddess before him. “You nervous for your first day tomorrow?” he asked, mesmerized by the way she licked the ice cream from her fork.
Whitney lifted a shoulder. “Yes and no. The biggest benefit of being a temp is that I’m used to first-day jitters. I’m more excited than nervous.”
“Good, because I know you’re going to do great.”
A shy smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
Holding up his free hand, Trevor said, “I speak the truth.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. It was the kind of companionable silence Trevor loved. The silence of people who were comfortable enough being quiet with each other. It didn’t mean anything, it just meant they didn’t have to talk for talking’s sake.
Then Whitney broke the silence. “Paul seems like a nice man.” She observed, staring out in the lawn as the light dwindled.
Trevor took a bite of pie, buying time. “He is,” he agreed through a mouthful of peaches.
“He’s been a family friend for a while, Daisy said.” Whitney wouldn’t face him as she spoke, but she seemed to be holding something back. “It’s nice when you have long-term friends like that.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Trevor swatted at a bug who was far more interested in his skin than the pie in his hand.
“The type of man I’d want my mother to see if something happened to my dad.” Whitney announced to Gus as he approached for more belly rubs.
“Huh, I guess so. Never really thought about it.” That was technically the truth, but now that Whitney had planted that seed, it’s all Trevor thought about.
Momma moving on from his daddy.
Momma moving on with his chief.
The revelation should have left a bitter taste in his mouth, but Trevor swallowed past the fear. If things were serious between the chief and his momma, surely his momma would have said something, right?
Trevor pushed aside thoughts of his mother and the chief, focusing instead on the setting sun and the shadows falling around them. Whitney hummed as she chewed her dessert, pausing the tune long enough to coo over Gus. She looked happy, and judging from the swelling in his ribcage, she wasn’t the only one. Trevor hoped this was the first of many nights under the stars with Whitney by his side.