Chapter 4 #2
The left-hand side of the store held canning supplies, with wide-mouthed mason jars and the accompanying lids and rings one might need.
Lila Mae had never been much of a homemaker, and the only reason she could cook was because she’d taken classes from a local college in their adult education center.
Her mother had not understood that either, but Lila Mae couldn’t fold their personal chef into her pocket and take her with her to Texas. Of course, both of her brothers still lived in the mansion where they’d all grown up, and thus had access to Dottie and her good cooking.
Lila Mae pushed away the thoughts of her family, telling herself they existed one thousand miles away and didn’t get to take up residence in her mind. Not for free, at least.
She wandered past the caramel apple counter and over to the refrigerated section where the apples were kept. She loved a good Honeycrisp and a Gala, but nothing beat a Pink Lady.
Being a single woman who only had to feed herself, Lila Mae picked out three Pink Ladies, and then one each of the Gala and Honeycrisp. Just for good measure, she threw in a Macintosh, though six apples was probably more than she needed before she’d be back next Monday.
She found the apple butter at the very end of the aisle, and she picked up the one-pound tub and placed it in her basket with her apples.
She turned to examine the display case of bottles behind her with everything from vinegars to ciders to sauces, when an oh-so-familiar voice met her ears.
She glanced up just in time to see Trap walking toward her, a smile on his face for a reason Lila Mae could not fathom. “Howdy,” he said, just as her brain processed that he’d said, Nope, I found her. There she is.
She looked past him to where a farm store worker wearing a bright red apron had already moved along with her tasks. And Trap had come over to her.
Lila Mae blinked and looked at Trap again, as he now stood directly in front of her.
“You really do come every Monday,” he said.
Lila Mae had no idea how to respond, but a frown tugged at her eyebrows. “This is the only Monday you’ve seen me here. How would you know I come every Monday?”
His smile faltered. “Uh, you said you did.”
She had not called her cousin to get any tips on flirting, and Lila Mae reached out and picked up a bottle of apple cider vinegar.
“Yes, but you would have to see me next Monday, and maybe even the next one, before you could say I really come every Monday.” She looked up at him and smiled.
It took him a moment for his lips to tip up again, and Lila Mae liked that look on his face far more than the confusion and consternation she normally got.
“I thought I wouldn’t see you until Thursday.”
Trap shifted his feet and then moved out of the way as Lila Mae pressed down the length of the display case, which he was inconveniently blocking.
“I just have this thing about being a liar.”
She looked at him. “A liar?”
“Well, I mean, you told Chelle we had a date, and I just figured if I showed up here and saw you and talked to you, then it wouldn’t be entirely a lie.”
“Do the cowboys in this town consider walking around a farm store with a woman a date?”
Trap’s face turned a lovely shade of red, and he reached up and pushed his hat further forward on his forehead, obscuring his eyes. “I don’t reckon so, ma’am,” he mumbled.
“Hmm,” Lila Mae said. “So you must be thinking of taking me to breakfast.” She smiled a smile he didn’t see, and she turned the corner at the end of the display case and went back down the other way, as the refrigerated cases of cider sat on this side.
Colt prepared it in many varieties, including some with the pulp to make a cloudy cider, all the way to the clearest, palest orange apple cider Lila Mae had ever seen.
The cats liked both, but Lila Mae picked up a gallon of the cloudy, pulpy cider from the refrigerated case. “If you carry my basket, would that count?” She handed her basket to him, and Trap took it without a word.
“I didn’t get a yes on the breakfast,” Lila Mae mused, really enjoying teasing him. “Which makes sense, as it’s eight-thirty, and with the heat warnings and all, I bet you’ve been up since five.”
“About that time, yeah,” Trap said, his voice low and filled with gravel.
“And what does a cowboy like you eat for breakfast?”
“Scrambled eggs,” Trap said. “Sourdough toast. Sausage.”
“Yes, that does sound like you,” Lila Mae said.
Trap lifted his head then and met her eyes. “Does it?”
Lila Mae’s heartbeat thrashed against all of her ribs, sending vibrations from the front of her body to the back. “I suppose it sounds like any cowboy,” she said. “Though I would probably say bacon and eggs.”
Trap shook his head slowly. “I like sausage way more than bacon, ma’am.”
“And I’d like it if you didn’t call me ma’am,” Lila Mae said.
That cute little frown of concern twisted his eyebrows. “I work for you, Lila Mae. Of course, I’m going to call you ma’am.”
“But we’re on a shopping date,” she said. “Do you call your dates ma’am?”
“Actually, yeah,” he said. “Sometimes.”
Lila Mae rolled her eyes. “Fine, but you don’t work for me, Trap. I’ve hired you to do a job.” She watched him swallow and nod, a horrible thought entering her mind. “That’s why you came this morning, isn’t it? You’re still worried I’m going to fire you.”
“No,” he said quickly, and this time his eyes searched hers. Lila Mae could definitely dive into the depths of dark eyes like that, and she reminded herself that she had once before and she’d barely gotten out alive.
“I thought that was cleared up yesterday when I apologized. Are you still mad?”
“No,” Lila Mae said quickly. “And I was never mad. You’re….” She trailed off, not quite sure what adjective to put there. He waited, both of them standing still in front of the apple cider case.
“Trap Walker,” a man said, his voice filled with joviality. “Just the man I needed to see.”
Trap turned toward the man coming toward them, and he was probably in his early forties.
“Mister Farr.” Trap laughed and shuffled Lila Mae’s basket to his left arm so he could shake Mister Farr’s hand with his right. “Who’d have thought I’d run into you in the orchard farm store when we’ve been trying to meet up for a couple of weeks?”
Mister Farr only laughed, and then Trap turned back to Lila Mae. She reached for her basket and said, “Go on. You’ll call me later.”
“Yeah, I’ll call you later,” he said, and then he painted on the smile Lila Mae had seen in his social media videos as he turned back to Mister Farr.
She knew he was trying to build his own reputation inside his parents’ company, and she couldn’t fault him for that.
So she let him go, though she’d very much like to continue this fake date of walking around a farm store.
But Trap had never actually asked her out, and he certainly didn’t seem interested in her.
Lila Mae turned her back on him and headed for the checkout. After all, she had thirteen cats to tend to, and she couldn’t spend her whole morning flirting with a cowboy who barely seemed to know she existed.