Bluegrass Courtship by Allie Pleiter Page B

would go that way with Drew. Downing was an “everything now” kind of guy. He’d asked for “all she had and maybe a few more,” and that felt so extreme. Asking too much. Missionnovation was here for a three-week stint, and then they’d roll off toward their next spectacular feat. Not only would he take all she had, he’d probably want a dozen more new houses by Friday, and she couldn’t work that way. Her birdhouses were her own private pleasure, not some new method for Drew Downing to display his creativity.
    She maneuvered the tiny shutter into place and clamped it tight. Still, it had been flattering to know how much he liked them. Drew had complimented the church birdhouse before he even knew it was hers—and much more so once he did. Her last two were even better than that church one—her skills had grown a lot since then. He’d like these. The soft buzz of satisfaction humming in her chest when she thought about it wouldn’t be ignored.
    Janet looked up and ran her eyes along the shelves in her workroom, where the eight birdhouses sat lined up in a neat row. Some of them had been there for a while, keeping her company while she made more. She doubted he would abuse them. He wouldn’t do something like ask her to make a mini green-and-white Missionnovation bus birdhouse…would he? No, it wouldn’t be anything as deliberate as that. It would just feel as if she were contributing to the spectacle of it all—a spectacle that rubbed her the wrong way.
    Then again, wasn’t she contributing to it already? Bishop Hardware was supplying lumber and pipe, nails and screws—why not birdhouses? If he’d asked her to order a dozen birdhouses from one of her supply catalogues, she wouldn’t have thought twice about placing the order.
    But these birdhouses were personal.
    And it bugged her because it was all getting personal. Drew Downing was turning into one of those aggravating people you want to hate but just can’t. Was she ready toaccept the fact that the nice guy on TV—okay, the God-fearing, high-voltage nice guy—really was just that?
    What seems too good to be true usually is. Wasn’t that the old saying? Did she know enough about Drew Downing—about who he was and what he believed—to trust him?
    The shutter slipped out of its fastening and slid down the side of the birdhouse, leaving a trail of glue in its wake. Janet sighed and wiped off the glue. She was too distracted for this kind of detailed work this evening.
    The troublesome thought was, she couldn’t ever remember the last time she was too distracted to work.

Chapter Ten
    â€œH ow are Gil and the guys liking their brush with fame?” Janet said as she folded town council agendas with her friend, Emily, a few days later. Emily’s fiancé, Gil, ran Homestretch Farm about ten miles out of town. Paroled offenders lived at the horse farm as part of a unique reform program Gil ran. A big, surly group of young men managed by a big, surly man, “the guys and Gil” had been obvious choices for some of the heavy lifting tasks during the renovation.
    â€œThe guys are starstruck,” Emily replied, leafing through a stack of bridal magazines as she and Janet babysat the town hall’s jam-prone automatic folding machine. “But I think Gil doesn’t know what to do with a guy like Drew Downing.”
    â€œDon’t we all wonder what to do with him?” Janet said, banging the machine with her hand when it stalled. The contraption sputtered, then settled into the task of spitting out the folded papers with a consistent thumping rhythm.
    Emily caught the edge in Janet’s voice, and raised an eyebrow. “Not a fan of the big green bus? I’ve heard you talk about that show as if you watched it a lot.”
    â€œ Mom watches that show a lot. I’m a captive audience when I’m over for dinner. Or when Mom tries some new