The Construction of Cheer - Liz Isaacson Page 0,30
a name tag.
“How old are they?” he asked, his throat so dry.
“The rabbits or the nieces?” She grinned at him again, and Cactus almost wished she wouldn’t.
He wasn’t going to blurt out anything embarrassing. He tucked all of that away, under his tongue, and looked at the feed again. “Both,” he said.
“The rabbits are little,” she said. “Maybe a couple of months old? The nieces are six and seven.”
If Cactus knew anyone in town, that might help him figure out who she was without having to come out and ask. “Baby rabbits,” he said. “You’ll want these smaller alfalfa pellets, I think.” He plucked a bag from the shelf and looked at her basket. It might fit in there, but it might not.
“I probably needed a cart.” She put the basket down and took the bag from him. “How long does this last?”
“Depends on what else you feed them,” he said. “They can eat all kinds of fruits and veggies.”
“Mariah actually told me that.” She shifted the bag to rest on her hip, which curved in the most delicious way. Cactus yanked his eyes back to hers. “She’s one of the nieces.”
He smiled and nodded. “Do you live with them?”
“Down the street,” she said. “Don’t ask me where.” She trilled out a pretty little laugh. “We just moved here, and I have no idea which way to go when I leave here.”
“Oh, so you’re new.” He kept his smile in place. “Well, welcome to Three Rivers, ma’am.” He reached up and tipped his hat at her. “That should last you a few weeks, at least. I’d give them kale and apples, some carrots, tops and all. They love blueberries too.”
“These rabbits are going to eat better than I do.” The woman rolled her eyes, and Cactus sure did like her sense of humor. He liked her easy-going spirit. He had the distinct impression he should ask her if she was at least in her thirties, but he bit down on the question.
“Anything else I can help you find?” he asked, and he wanted to stuff his boot in his mouth. He couldn’t be leading her all over the store, showing her their various products. Someone would catch him, and his ruse would be up.
“No, this is all,” she said, stooping to pick up her basket, where she had a water bottle for a rabbit cage he hadn’t even seen before. “Thank you….” She looked at his shirt for that blasted name tag, and heat shot into Cactus’s face.
“I’m Cactus Glover,” he said, extending his hand toward her to shake.
Her hands were full, and she became flustered as she looked at his hand and tried to shift things around so she could shake it. In the end, she laughed as she simply dropped everything.
“Willa Knowlton,” she said, finally shaking his hand. “My brother is the new pastor, and I’m here to do some stand-in preaching for him and to help take care of Pastor Summers.”
“Oh, right,” Cactus said. He’d heard that Pastor Summers had fallen and been injured. He hadn’t been to church in a while, but as he gazed at Willa, he suddenly had a very good reason to go back.
Stop staring.
He wasn’t sure where the voice had come from, but he dropped his head and cleared his throat. “Let me take this up front for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” But she let him pick up the bag of feed. Then she bent to get the basket, she tucked her hair, and when their eyes met again, Cactus swore they had even more twinkle than before.
Was she flirting with him? How could he possibly know?
He walked her up front and set the rabbit pellets on the counter. “There you go, ma’am.”
“Thank you,” she said, and he tipped his hat and walked away. He hadn’t gone far when she said, “You have very helpful employees here.”
He increased his pace to get around the corner, and he’d just made it when the clerk said, “He doesn’t work for us.”
“Don’t stop,” he muttered. “Don’t go back. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Do not stop.” He made it back to the leather section of the store, and by some miracle his cart was still there. He couldn’t just go back up front and check out, in case Willa was still there. So he turned his back on the rest of the store and huddled over his phone as if he had anyone to text.