Batter of Wits (Green Valley Chronicles #22) - Smartypants Romance Page 0,101
they think I'm scary, but the truth is that I'm just a normal person who stopped caring about what people said about me."
"Probably a smart choice," I said. Pulling another nail from the front pocket of my jeans, I wedged it in my mouth and fixed the red, glittery sign onto the top of one post. A few taps, and it was in, and I moved to the other side, giving it the same treatment. Maxine stayed quiet behind me, but I felt her watchful gaze on me as I worked.
"Your sour mood have something to do with Miss Buchanan?"
The hammer paused mid-swing, and I took a deep breath, refocused my energy, and tried not to nail my thumb down.
As if I could narrow down my mood to two words like that. Something to do with her, yes.
It was her.
How badly I screwed up.
It was my parents.
My job.
Everything.
I still hadn’t been able to face my momma after what happened in the garage. I wasn’t ready to explain what happened after she left, because I had every intention of fixing it, and the last thing I needed was for her to draw an entirely new, negative impression of Grace.
Because simmering under the surface of everything—my job, my parents, the whole damn situation—was Grace. How badly I missed her.
“Can I help you with something related to this booth, Maxine? Because I’ve got work to do.”
She whistled. “You called me by my first name, young man. You must be cranky to forget the manners your momma raised you with.”
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. Shame didn’t go down easily when you tried to swallow it, which I’d learned pretty clearly the last two and a half days. I was miserable, and no doubt Grace was miserable too, but I still couldn’t figure out how I was supposed to fix the mess of my own making.
She was right. Every word Grace had said was right.
And I had to figure out how to choose her, the right way. Not in the way that was convenient or caused the least amount of damage.
“I’ll take that as your second apology,” she said.
“Appreciate that.” The hammer made a few last taps, and I stepped off the ladder to face her. “I’m almost done, then I’ll stay clear of everyone until I’m due here tomorrow.”
The fairgrounds were transformed, an organized beehive of chaos, with Maxine and her purple clipboard as the queen. Workers were setting up rides and unloading trailers for the petting zoo, food trucks set up small patio tables for hungry attendees, and vendors propped up tents and tables to sell their wares. The smell of popcorn already permeated the air, erasing the fresh scent that I loved so much. The one that Grace wanted to bottle and take with her if she ever left.
Pain flew sharp and fast through my chest, just like it did any time I thought about her for too long. If I thought about her hurt, thought about the things she said, or the things I did, no matter how justified they felt at the time, I struggled to keep my temper in check. There was nothing around me that would withstand the force of that.
And if I didn’t think of something, anything, I’d have to stand on my half of the booth, separated by a flimsy white picket fence, and watch men line up for a brief hug, a kiss on the cheek, or more.
“Here are the tickets,” Maxine said, pulling a spool of generic festival tickets from a bag attached to the side of her walker. “I’ll have one high schooler for each of you, taking money and handing these out. Based on what you told me, one ticket is a hug, two is a kiss on the cheek, and three is a peck on the mouth. The fishbowl back there is for your TV drawing.”
I took the roll of tickets, tested its weight in my hand. “I already hate these things and we haven’t even started.”
The words came out quietly, and I’m not sure I intended her to hear, but I should’ve known that she’d have the ears of a bat.
“Lord, the lovesick do complicate things, don’t they?”
“Maybe we do,” I admitted wearily. “Doesn’t make the complications less real though.”
Maxine waved off. “Oh, that’s horseshit.”
“Okay, so tell me what you’d do, Ms. Barton. Two people did wrong by each other, no matter if it was intentional or not, didn’t say the right things in the right way, and I’m,