The Delivery of Decor (Shiloh Ridge Ranch in Three Rivers #7) - Liz Isaacson Page 0,96
stood up. “Mister, I…I already told Mildred we’d go together if you invited us.”
Mister stood too, his frustration blooming. “I’m not inviting the two of you,” he said. “She can come or not. I don’t care.” He faced the ranch, wishing he could communicate better. “I’m inviting you,” he said. “And not just to the party, Libby. To dinner. On a date.” He cleared his throat. “I want to go on a date with you. The two of us.”
He faced her, feeling strangely powerful now that some of the hard words had left his mouth. “You know how I’ve asked you to set me up with other women before?”
Libby wore fear in her eyes, which were as wide as the full moon. She didn’t nod or shake her head or speak. Her chest rose and fell in spurts, and Mister hated that he’d caused her nerves to fire.
“I don’t have you to set me up with you, Libs.” He reached for her hands, taking them in both of his. “I like you, Libby Bellamore. Will you go out with me, please? Not as friends.”
“Not as friends?”
He shook his head, a smile filling his soul. He’d said all the things Preacher and Judge had told him to. This had to work.
“There you are,” Mildred said, and Libby yanked her hands away from Mister. “Daddy’s on the radio, carrying on about the goats gettin’ out again.” She wore a cross look on her face, and she switched her gaze to Mister. Her expression changed in that instant too. “Oh, hi, Mister. Sorry to interrupt.”
“It’s fine,” Libby said, darting away from him. “He was just inviting us to the party up at Shiloh Ridge tomorrow night.” She linked her arm through her sister’s and faced him, those dark brown eyes wide and begging him to corroborate her story.
“Yeah,” Mister said, his voice actually squeaking. “Starts at eight.”
“Perfect,” Mildred said with a smile. “That gives us time to try that new pizza place, Libs. Pie in the Sky? You’ve wanted to go.”
“Yes,” Libby said. “We should do that.” She lifted her free hand in a wave, but it was such a jerky motion that it felt like a military salute. “Bye, Mister.” She spun and hurried inside the house, leaving Mildred looking after her in confusion.
She swung back to Mister. “What has her scared as a jackrabbit?”
Mister shook his head. “I told her to try the new Japanese place,” he said, the words just flowing from him. No matter what, he wasn’t going to sell Libby out to her sister. “I think she’s afraid of sushi.” He grinned, though his heart felt like Libby had stabbed it with a fork, ripped it from his chest, and tossed it into a food dehydrator. When—or if—he got it back, it would be shriveled and dry, brittle, cracked, and broken.
Mildred giggled and shook her head. “She’s not adventurous with her eating.”
“Don’t I know it,” Mister said, thinking he did a pretty good job of joking. “Hey, I’ll come pick y’all up tomorrow. She says you don’t like to drive at night, and I think that’s code for the fact that she doesn’t like to drive at night.”
“You are such a code breaker,” Mildred said, laughing again. Mister joined in with her as he went down the steps. He got behind the wheel of his truck, staring at the house while he buckled and started the vehicle.
He couldn’t believe Libby had said no.
She hadn’t used that word, but the implication was as tall and as wide as a mountain. It screamed down at him from the wide sky overhead, and he hurried to get off the ranch. The moment his tires hit the asphalt on the highway, he jabbed at the button on his steering wheel and said, “Call Judge Glover.”
“Calling Judge Glover,” his truck said in a cool female voice. The line rang and rang, and Mister remembered his brother was on his own date with the woman of his dreams. He quickly stabbed at the screen to get the call to disconnect.
He pressed the button again. “Call Preacher Glover.”
“Calling Preacher Glover.”
This brother answered after the second ring with a, “Hey, Mister. How did it go?”
“How did it go?” Mister repeated, his anger and irritation shooting to the top of his head. “I’ll tell you how it went, Preach. She said no.”
“What? That can’t be true.”
“Well, I’m driving her and Mildred to the party tomorrow,” he said. “We’re not going to dinner.”