Here Comes Trouble Page 0,57
couldn’t help it, she just shook her head and laughed again. He really was incorrigible. Incorrigible and sweet and ridiculously sexy.
It wasn’t until they were stepping up on the curb to head into the store that she grew aware of the looks. It took her a second to process, then she realized what she was doing. Holding hands. With Brett Hennessey. Not that probably anyone in Pennydash, Vermont, knew who Brett Hennessey was in terms of his poker fame, but what they did at least see was her, clearly attached to a much younger, hot motorcycle guy.
That part didn’t bother her, but before she could consider any other possible ramifications to their public display, Helen Harklebinder was calling her name.
“Kirby!”
She casually slipped her hand from Brett’s as he opened the door for them and the trailing Mrs. Harklebinder. Kirby stepped into the store and turned back as the older woman caught up. “Hello, Helen, how are you?”
Helen had already forgotten all about Kirby. She was too busy beaming up at Brett. “Well, aren’t you the nice young man. Too many of your generation don’t know their manners these days.”
Brett nodded. “My pleasure.” He stepped forward and unstuck a cart from the queue and rolled it to her, handle first.
Helen’s smile deepened and Kirby swore there was a bit of a pink flush to her feathery cheeks. “Why, you’re just a big Boy Scout, aren’t you.” She turned to Kirby. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?”
Kirby had been caught up in the byplay, watching the spell Brett so effortlessly wove and was thinking he probably did that, rather pied piper like, everywhere he went. So it took her a split second to switch gears. “Oh, he’s not my—I mean, he’s—”
Brett stepped forward and extended his hand. “Brett Hennessey.”
“Mrs. Harklebinder,” she said, eyes twinkling now. “But, please, you can call me Helen.”
“Helen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He rolled another cart out, which Kirby grabbed like the lifeline it was. “Have a nice evening,” he said to Helen, and then expertly guided Kirby and her cart toward the fresh vegetable department.
Kirby threw a little wave over her shoulder. “Nice to see you,” she said, then so softly only Brett could hear, added, “Thank you.”
“Actually, I should apologize.”
She glanced up, honestly confused. “For?”
“Not thinking. Small town. And your town. I know what you said about it not bothering you, but I don’t want to put you in a deliberately uncomfortable or awkward situation.”
“No, no, don’t—”
“Stop being nice,” he said, but was smiling as he said it.
Which made it easier for her to say, “Well, to be honest, I hadn’t even thought about it, beyond the general not caring about other folks’ opinions on my personal choices.”
“But you haven’t actually encountered them yet. Right?”
“True. So, yes, I guess I’d like a little processing time.” She took a steadying breath and added, “and more time to get to know you.”
She risked a glance up, and found him smiling but looking at her quite intently.
“What,” she asked, wishing she could read him as well as he apparently read her.
“Good,” was all he said. Then he nodded, and his expression was…happily content. “That’s good.” He covered her hand on the handle of the shopping cart and steered her toward the lettuce. “You get stuff to make a salad. I’m heading out to find us some pasta. Meet me in the bread aisle.”
“Ten-four,” she said.
“Horrible hand. I’d fold with that one,” he called back to her as he headed off.
She frowned. “It’s a radio sign-off,” she called after him. “Not a poker—never mind.” He’d already ducked down the soft drink and chip aisle. She turned and resolutely rolled her way through the fresh vegetable bins, choosing a fresh head of romaine, a few decent-looking tomatoes, some thoughtfully preshredded carrots, an onion, and a bag of croutons. She had no idea what kind of dressing he liked, so she picked out a ranch and a spicy Italian. Not so bad. A salad even she couldn’t screw up. Probably.
She pushed the cart along the aisles, heading toward the small bakery and bread area on the far side of the store. She heard Brett before she saw him. He was talking to somebody. She pushed the cart a bit faster, then slowed before she rounded the end of the last aisle and peeked around the corner first. Crap. Thad had Brett cornered between the dairy and the bread rolls. Thad, who knew exactly who Brett was.