Stealing Taffy (Bigler, North Carolina #3) - Susan Donovan Page 0,99
arm. “It’s okay. I asked Agent Cabrera to be on our team.”
Gladys reared back in surprise. “You did whaaat?” She whipped her head around to search for Tanyalee, then pointed in her direction while frowning at Fern. “Did she encourage you to associate with this man?”
Fern shook her head. “For cryin’ out loud, Great-granny. Look.” She gestured toward the high-quality leather bag Dante held in one hand. “See that? Agent Cabrera’s got his own ball and his own shoes in there, if you know what I’m sayin.’”
Gladys peered closely at the bag.
“He’s a champion, Three-Gee. And anyway, I don’t mind talking to him.”
“Champion?” Gladys scowled at Dante. “Exactly what kind?”
“At fifteen I was Northeast Regional Junior Division champion, ranked sixth in the nation.”
Gladys gasped.
“At your service, ma’am.” Dante practically saluted.
A smiling Fern laid her cheek on Gladys’s shoulder. “See? So why don’t you let me talk to him for a few minutes? It won’t hurt nobody none.”
Gladys’s scowl disappeared, then slowly morphed into a flirtatious flutter of her eyelashes. “Well, since you brought your own shoes and all, I suppose you can have ten minutes of Fern’s valuable time…”
“Thank you.”
“… but only if your cumulative game average today is over 220.”
Dante winced, then reached out to shake her hand. “You drive a hard bargain and I’m real rusty, but you’re on, Ms. Harbison.”
At that moment, Tanyalee saw Cheri making her way to the lanes with an overloaded tray of soft drink cups. She swooped in to rescue her.
“Let me help you.” Tanyalee lifted the tray with one hand, balanced it at shoulder height, and carried it easily.
“That’s impressive,” Cheri said. “Where did you learn to do that?”
Tanyalee smiled. “I’ll have you know that I waitressed for a whole month after…” She stopped herself before finishing the sentence with “after J.J. kicked my sorry ass to the curb.” Those words—and the mind-set behind them—had been with her for so long that they were automatic. The bridge to Cheri was made of sticks, not steel, and Tanyalee knew it was her duty to tread carefully, and that would require putting herself in her sister’s shoes. “Before I got hired at Wim’s real estate office. I left Duke’s Bar and Grill with a pocketful of tips and a single useful skill, which you just witnessed.”
“Why, that isn’t true, Taffy!” Viv shook her head and forced her way into the conversation. “You have a variety of skills! In fact, I never even knew a person could combine three shades of pink in an outfit and not end up looking like a mixed bag of candy hearts!”
Cheri’s eyes widened and she shot Tanyalee a glance of painfully suppressed laughter, because that’s exactly what Viv looked like today—a slightly sloshed, mixed bag of candy hearts.
It was nice to share a private joke with her sister, even a small one.
“I’m glad ya’ll didn’t spill my Coke-cola.” Gladys reached for a drink from the tray. “I need all the sugar I can get if we want to beat the Bowl of Kindness team.” She inclined her head toward a team in baby blue several lanes away. “Maryvelle Wilcox is in my ladies’ league, and she can make a seven-ten split like nobody’s business.”
* * *
Along with everyone else, Dante turned his head to observe a short, full-figured woman of about thirty, wearing a team shirt with W.W.J.B.? printed on the back. She was rolling her shoulders like a shot-putter about to step up to the line.
Tater Wayne was there to translate. “It stands for ‘What Would Jesus Bowl?’”
Dante let out a breath. Only in Bigler. “Let me guess—a three hundred.” Sure enough, when the aforementioned Maryvelle Wilcox turned their way, they saw the digits 3-0-0 across her considerable bust.
He turned to share the laugh with Wes, but was surprised to see that his friend was busy assessing Tanyalee, an expression of glee on his face. He sent a sideways glance toward Dante. “Taffy?” he mouthed. He lifted his forearm and shook his wrist. “Bracelet Taffy?”
Dante looked away, but there was no avoiding Westley’s sharp bark of laughter. Then the bastard sauntered up to Tanyalee and helped himself to a soft drink, hitting her with the same high-wattage grin that had made women’s panties disappear from D.C. to Denver.
Dante sent his friend a threatening glare, but Westley just laughed and returned to his side. “Gotcha, Cabrera. You have feelings for her.”
He started to say something, but Wes held up an open palm. “Don’t even,” he said.