Misters of Love - Piper Sullivan Page 0,7

there was no need for any animosity. There was chemistry between us, nothing more, and I was more than capable of ignoring it, when and if it reared its ugly head. Incidents like that kiss last night, as hot as it was, could not, and would not happen again.

I wouldn’t let it, no matter how much his proximity lit my body up like Fourth of July fireworks. It just couldn’t happen again, because Nate wasn’t the guy for me, if there even was a guy for me. I’d thought Mitchell was that guy, until he and Charla had proved me the fool.

I wouldn’t let Nate do the same. He wasn’t just a player; he wasn’t just a man completely and totally unsatisfied with having only one woman in his bed. No, he was the worst kind of player, the kind who toyed with your emotions by whispering sweet nothings while he made love to you, body and soul. He was the kind of guy who made you feel things for him only to toss it back in your face that he’d never promised you a damn thing. Yeah, I was well versed in the likes of him, and I wanted no part of it. Well, aside from the orgasms, because those were spectacular.

I pulled into the small parking lot reserved for customers of Tulip Grocery & Drugs, killed the engine, and took several deep breaths until my nerves were fortified with steel. Just in case. Armed with a shopping cart barrier and a list that provided the perfect distraction from speaking to my neighbors, I kept my head down and smiled as the air conditioning smacked me right in the face. It had to be a good omen, the air conditioning, because I’d grabbed enough produce to last a week before my first obstacle approached.

“Mikki, honey, you always look so well put-together.” Eddy Henderson, sweet old lady, casserole queen, and meddling matchmaker extraordinaire, stopped right in front of me, blocking my progress with her compliment.

“Why, thank you, Miss Edy. I always enjoy putting together an outfit,” I told her, throwing a bit more twang into my accent because that’s what she expected. “You’re looking mighty colorful today,” I added sincerely. The woman loved a good track suit, and the brighter the colors and patterns, the more she loved it. Compared to my plain turquoise shirt dress, Edy was really the one with the fashion sense.

“Oh, you,” she smiled and waved a dismissive hand, but I didn’t miss the pink blush that stained her cheeks and neck. “I wasn’t sure hot pink and leopard went together until I found these,” she said, sticking out one foot to show off a pair of leopard print sneakers. “Perfect, right?”

“Absolutely,” I assured her. I wouldn’t be caught dead in them, but I appreciated how Eddy wore what she liked no matter what. “I have some cotton track suits coming in this week, you might find them a bit more breathable in this Texas heat.”

She nodded thoughtfully, a mischievous smile on her face. “Give me a call as soon as they arrive. I’m calling dibs,” she said, proud of herself for remembering. “Now, missy, how was that pizza and wine last night? And more to the point, how was Nate?” The gleam in her eyes would have been frightening if I hadn’t just shored up my defenses where Nate Callahan was concerned.

“The wine was amazing, thanks for that. I haven’t had a nice Beaujolais in close to forever. The pizza was exactly what I ordered; the perfect way to end a long weekend of tourists. And cleaning up after tourists,” I added, because one of the things I learned quickly about living in this small town was that tourists were a preferred topic of conversation, aside from gossip. It wasn’t uncommon to hear people talk about how ridiculous they were, while also coming up with ways to attract more tourists and get them to spend more of their dollars in Tulip.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said dismissively, not even bothering to pretend she cared about anything else. “What happened with Nate, girl? I’ve got a lot riding on this.”

That was news to me, so I merely shrugged. “Nothing happened. He dropped off the food, like you made him, and then went to wherever he was going before you shanghaied him into delivering my food.”

The old woman didn’t even bother to look sorry or guilty and I was glad, because I knew she wasn’t. Between her and Ry’s

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