One Foot in the Grove by Kelly Lane

serious. Who’s going to
cook
? What about breakfast? We’ve got guests!”
    â€œI dunno, sweetie. It’s not my cup of tea. It’s Daphne’s bailiwick, and she made it clear that I’m not ever to meddle in ‘her’ guest affairs. I think she’s afraid I’ll make everything black . . . you know, hang black lace curtains, set out black leather placemats, and burn all the muffins. And I probably would. Actually, I think it might be kind of fun to try it once—just to see the look on her face.” Pep broke into little piglet snorts again. “Although, you seem to have that covered.”
    â€œVery funny.”
    I watched Pep furiously massage the oil into the fixed zipper. The woman who couldn’t get a simple zipper to work was a mechanical genius. Growing up, while all the girls were playing imaginary fairy games, Pep had been off with the boys, picking at frogs, daring one another to eat crickets, and mooning over John Deere tractors. From the time she was little, Dad taught Pep the intricacies of farming andheavy equipment, and he’d made her his right-hand gal on the farm. Household affairs were definitely not her thing.
    â€œSeriously,” I said, “who’s going to cook for the guests at breakfast . . . Dinner?” Fortunately, Daphne had made the executive decision not to serve regular lunches at Knox Plantation, unless it was by request for a picnic or special event. That was one meal we didn’t have to prepare.
    â€œTell me about it, sweetie. Oh . . . hey . . . voilà!” Pep yanked the zipper up then down to reveal a lacy confection under her mini leather corset dress. She smiled, showing off beautiful white teeth. “Billy’s gonna be
so
excited to see this! She patted her bosom. Listen, I’ve got to skedaddle before he falls asleep—if he hasn’t already.” Pep frowned. “I don’t want the ‘magic’ to wear off, if y’all know what I mean.”
    â€œHere, then. Take the whole bottle.” I stuck a cork in the top and handed Pep the bottle of olive oil. “I’m sure you’ll think of something romantic to do with it . . . It’s all natural,” I teased.
    Pep let out a hearty laugh and batted her eyes. “We’ll put this naughty lube to good use!”
    â€œ
Lube?
” I blushed. “Oh gosh . . . Pep, you’re one step ahead of me. I was thinking
massage
!”
    â€œThat, too. Okay, I’m off to rock and roll.”
    Pep’s tiny leather skirt flounced as she trotted across the floor. She unlatched the hook, pushed open the screen door, and jumped over the stoop into the wet night. The door banged shut.
    â€œHave fun.” Then, I remembered. “Hey, Pep, did you hear a gun go off earlier?”
    â€œI don’t reckon so. Just thunder. Or I thought it was thunder. Anyway, it’s not huntin’ season, far as I know.” She thought a moment as she grabbed the bicycle and dropped the oil in the basket. “Although, folks can shoot wild boar anytime, night or day. Some of the big huntin’ lodges advertise boar huntin’ parties. Maybe they go out at night. Although, it sounds kinda sketchy.”
    â€œMust’ve been thunder.”
    â€œOkay, I’m off. And don’t forget about my offer!”
    â€œOffer?”
    â€œAbout finding y’all a hunk to hook up with.” She reached into the basket, pulled out the oil, and wagged it in her hand. “You could try a slip and slide!” Pep broke into giggles and snorts before dropping the oil back into the basket and straddling the bike.
    I slapped my hand on my forehead. “I’ll pass on that for now, thanks.”
    â€œAnd Eva!” Pep called out as she pedaled away. “Don’t worry about the guest meals—Daphne will have a plan. She always does!”
    Too late. I was freaking