eyes, but a lighter shade than Jo’s, and there was a dusting of freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, but there was something sprite-like and innocent and utterly captivating about her.
“Hi, guys, I’m Zoe,” she said in a soft lyrical voice when she reached us. “And you must be Sunny and Sean.”
“So nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand.
“Pleasure’s all mine, lass,” Sean said and tried to kiss her hand, but she discreetly pulled away before his lips could touch her flesh. He paused, but then his lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “Hard to get. I like that.”
“Exactly. The church you wanted is fully booked and incredibly hard to get, Jo,” Zoe said, oblivious to Sean. “And there’s nothing to like about that. But I’ve got some other ideas.” She pulled Jo over to a booth, already deep in conversation, with Sean completely forgotten.
“Huh. Imagine that. A woman who isn’t susceptible to your charms.” I grinned at Sean.
“Please. Give her time. She’ll come around,” he said, then hopped over the bar, but the crease between his baby blues was unmistakable.
“Isn’t that your Granny?” Cole said, squinting as he looked across the bar and out through the window.
I whipped my head to the side and stared in disbelief. Great. Here comes trouble. All I’d wanted was one night of peace and quiet from the Granny and Fiona Show. I winced as she swerved to miss a mailbox, jumped the curb, and nicked the light post out front before she came to a jarring stop. She shut off her car, leaving the keys in the ignition as usual, then grabbed her cookies and marched toward the front door in all her finery—rain cap, apron, and all.
She actually wore a dress obviously made from yet another set of my curtains. Good thing my house had a lot of windows and enough extra fabric to keep her incurtain supplies for years to come. She must have forgotten to take her apron off when she left, though.
She spotted me and stopped by the bar. “Hi, dearie.”
“Hi, Granny. Um, did you forget something?” I asked in a low voice, pointing down.
“Oh, fiddlesticks.” She handed me the cookies and pulled off her rain cap. Then she untied her apron, slipped it off, and traded me her belongings for the cookies.
I wadded them up and shoved the bundle in my knapsack. “You look nice.” My gaze roamed over her body, stopping on her legs. “I haven’t seen you in a dress in ages.” I wrinkled my brow. “Since when did your legs get so tan? And what’s wrong with your toes? They almost look blue compared to the rest of your feet.”
“Sandal-foot nylons,” she whispered. “Not sandal toe, those are different, you see, for open-toed shoes. These are made for actual sandals. The trick is the toes are literally cut out, and the nylon hooks over your big toe to keep the material in place. Aren’t they just the bee’s knees? With my sandals on, you can’t even tell I’m wearing nylons, even if they do pinch a snippet.”
“They’re something, all right.” I smiled, thinking she should have chosen a lighter shade. These made her look like her circulation had literally stopped at the balls of her feet with her toes all but dead.
“At least I won’t get skin cancer like Phony Bologna Fiona with all the tanning she must do.” Granny tsked.
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’m on a mission of sorts. Have you seen Captain Walker? Someone said he eats here on Friday nights.”
“Granny, what are you up to with that plate of cookies?” I asked in dread.
“Well,” she looked left and right as though she were about to reveal a clever secret, “I thought I’d give Grady a little sample to wet his whistle for Sunday’s bakeoff. I just found out Bernadette wins every year, but I’m about to dethrone her. I just have to figure out which type of cookie the captain likes best. So I baked all of my favorites. Want
“Hi, guys, I’m Zoe,” she said in a soft lyrical voice when she reached us. “And you must be Sunny and Sean.”
“So nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand.
“Pleasure’s all mine, lass,” Sean said and tried to kiss her hand, but she discreetly pulled away before his lips could touch her flesh. He paused, but then his lips quirked into a lopsided grin. “Hard to get. I like that.”
“Exactly. The church you wanted is fully booked and incredibly hard to get, Jo,” Zoe said, oblivious to Sean. “And there’s nothing to like about that. But I’ve got some other ideas.” She pulled Jo over to a booth, already deep in conversation, with Sean completely forgotten.
“Huh. Imagine that. A woman who isn’t susceptible to your charms.” I grinned at Sean.
“Please. Give her time. She’ll come around,” he said, then hopped over the bar, but the crease between his baby blues was unmistakable.
“Isn’t that your Granny?” Cole said, squinting as he looked across the bar and out through the window.
I whipped my head to the side and stared in disbelief. Great. Here comes trouble. All I’d wanted was one night of peace and quiet from the Granny and Fiona Show. I winced as she swerved to miss a mailbox, jumped the curb, and nicked the light post out front before she came to a jarring stop. She shut off her car, leaving the keys in the ignition as usual, then grabbed her cookies and marched toward the front door in all her finery—rain cap, apron, and all.
She actually wore a dress obviously made from yet another set of my curtains. Good thing my house had a lot of windows and enough extra fabric to keep her incurtain supplies for years to come. She must have forgotten to take her apron off when she left, though.
She spotted me and stopped by the bar. “Hi, dearie.”
“Hi, Granny. Um, did you forget something?” I asked in a low voice, pointing down.
“Oh, fiddlesticks.” She handed me the cookies and pulled off her rain cap. Then she untied her apron, slipped it off, and traded me her belongings for the cookies.
I wadded them up and shoved the bundle in my knapsack. “You look nice.” My gaze roamed over her body, stopping on her legs. “I haven’t seen you in a dress in ages.” I wrinkled my brow. “Since when did your legs get so tan? And what’s wrong with your toes? They almost look blue compared to the rest of your feet.”
“Sandal-foot nylons,” she whispered. “Not sandal toe, those are different, you see, for open-toed shoes. These are made for actual sandals. The trick is the toes are literally cut out, and the nylon hooks over your big toe to keep the material in place. Aren’t they just the bee’s knees? With my sandals on, you can’t even tell I’m wearing nylons, even if they do pinch a snippet.”
“They’re something, all right.” I smiled, thinking she should have chosen a lighter shade. These made her look like her circulation had literally stopped at the balls of her feet with her toes all but dead.
“At least I won’t get skin cancer like Phony Bologna Fiona with all the tanning she must do.” Granny tsked.
“What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’m on a mission of sorts. Have you seen Captain Walker? Someone said he eats here on Friday nights.”
“Granny, what are you up to with that plate of cookies?” I asked in dread.
“Well,” she looked left and right as though she were about to reveal a clever secret, “I thought I’d give Grady a little sample to wet his whistle for Sunday’s bakeoff. I just found out Bernadette wins every year, but I’m about to dethrone her. I just have to figure out which type of cookie the captain likes best. So I baked all of my favorites. Want
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