I licked my already drying lips. “No, but I’ll need to come back tomorrow after work to finish.”
Barney trudged over, his gait still unsteady after coming off his bike. He whistled. “By golly, when the boy said he needed a favor, I didn’t think I’d be the one benefiting.”
“It’s been fun.” I slipped the gloves off. “I’ll come back tomorrow if that’s okay? I need to plant the last of the seeds and add more fertilizer.”
“If that’s okay?” Barney chortled, whacking Everett on the back. “Where’d you find this girl? I had no idea Sabrina and Gloria were hiding a garden fairy in that little flower shop of theirs.”
Everett scowled, which earned a laugh from me as I stood. “Call me Tinker Bell, and we’ll need to have words.”
Barney wheezed out a laugh, then waved us off, heading back inside the hardware store. “Hurry up, boy. We’ve got some crates with your name on them waiting to be unloaded before you leave.”
Everett flicked his fingers over his head, indicating he’d be a minute. “Let me buy you lunch?”
I snorted. “Ah, no.”
His lips parted, large shoulders dropping, and I smacked his chest with a glove. “It’s after three, so I’ll be buying you an early dinner.”
His relieved smile colored my world, turning everything a shade lighter.
After showering, I sent Everett a text saying I’d meet him at his place, and that we’d eat at the bar.
He wasn’t one for texting, and his replies were usually short and clipped, which never failed to make me laugh.
“You can’t just respond with ‘k’.”
“Why not?” He dragged a fry through a puddle of ketchup, then popped it inside his mouth.
“It’s not proper text etiquette.”
He licked his lips, and my eyes dropped to them as he said, “Etiquette?”
It wasn’t right for a word to sound so good. “Yup. It’s rude. If someone makes the effort to reach out and ask you a question about your day, or hell, sends you a text about their shitty day, you can’t simply say, ‘that sucks,’ or ‘k,’ or ‘fine.’”
That glint in his eyes didn’t dissipate. “Noted. When are you done with school?”
“Four-year degree. Two almost down, two to go.”
Everett munched on more fries, his fingers tapping out a beat on the table. “You still want your own flower shop?”
“Or farm, I haven’t decided.”
“A farm would be wicked.”
I smiled in agreement, barely daring to imagine it, when a middle-age guy, maybe older, in a crisp suit approached our booth. “You’re not playing tonight?”
Everett took a bite out of another fry, offering a brief look at the stranger who was apparently not a stranger to him. “You’re back.”
The man smiled, then held out his hand to me. “Jack Keen. Keen Records.”
My fry fell from my fingers, and I hastily scrubbed my palm over my cutoffs before shaking his hand. “Stevie.”
His grin was all business but beautiful nonetheless. “Wonder?”
“Nicks.” Everett took a sip of water, eyeing him over the rim of the glass.
“Even better,” Jack said, gently releasing my hand.
A smile bloomed, but it wobbled when I saw the tightness in Everett’s jaw. He was uncomfortable, at the very least.
“Have you thought about my offer?”
“Some.” Everett lowered his glass. “Been a little busy.”
Jack threw his gaze at me, giving me a quick once-over. “I see.”
“You’re interested in signing him?” I couldn’t keep my mouth shut a second longer.
Everett sighed.
“Interested is putting it mildly. Perhaps you can talk some sense into him, Stevie.” Jack shot me that devilish grin, then rapped his knuckles on the table, a business card sliding from between his fingers. “I’ll be in the area another few days. Call me, we’ll chat.”
Everett didn’t so much as nod, but his eyes dropped to the card, where they remained as Jack Keen waltzed past the bar.
Zoe looked from his retreating back to Everett and did a double take.
I shrugged when she gave me a questioning tilt of her head, then slid the metallic blue and black embossed card over to take a better look. “You don’t want to.” It wasn’t a question.
“I don’t want that lifestyle anymore, Clover.”
“But you want the music.” I tucked the card inside my purse, and he watched, lips rolling over one another. “Judging by the gleam in that shark’s eyes, you could have whatever you want.” I laughed, feeling a little lightheaded, then reached across the table to squeeze his hands. “On your terms.”
“I just want you, my guitar, and some people to listen. That’s it.”