Making It Right. Kathy Altman
have probably been reaching for a broom before that box even hit the floor.” She lifted an eyebrow, as if expecting him to start slurping the contents of the can right then and there. Yeah, not going to happen.
When he slid it onto the counter, she sighed and nudged a roofing nail with the toe of her tennis shoe. “These are pretty, dear. What are they for?”
“Roofing felt. And house wrap.”
“Do they come in other colors?”
“You cannot be considering these for a wedding present. How would you feel if Snoozy got you a box of thumbtacks?”
“You have a point.” Audrey snorted. “See what I did there?”
The cowbell over the door did its thing and Gil braced himself for the Hazel and June show. Wherever Audrey Tweedy was, her cohorts, the Catletts, weren’t far behind.
Ever since the sisters had been elected co-mayors of Castle Creek, their appearance made people especially nervous: they never walked away from a conversation without first having talked someone into donating their time or their money in support of the Catletts’ longtime pet project, the community center.
At the moment Gil was short on both, which meant only one thing. He’d have to throw Audrey under the bus.
When feed store owner Seth Walker strolled into the store instead, Gil relaxed. Until he got a load of the look in his trail buddy’s eyes.
Crap. Saturday night.
Gil backed toward the counter and reached out, blindly searching for a distraction. His fingers closed around the gift from Audrey. Meanwhile Seth smoothly greeted the older lady while laser-beaming his disapproval at Gil.
“Fish balls,” Gil said.
“Yeah, you should be worried.” Seth threaded his fingers together and made a show of cracking his knuckles. “How about after you finish up with Audrey here you meet me out front?”
Gil shook the can at Seth, thinking its easy-open lid probably tasted better than what was inside. “I’m trying to be polite here by offering you a snack.”
Seth squinted at the label. “Glad you finally got yourself some balls, man. A little big for you, aren’t they?”
Audrey tut-tutted at Seth. “That’s not very nice.”
“Neither is standing up a date. One who was so excited about your dinner plans that she went out and got herself a new dress.”
Gil winced.
Audrey gasped. “Gilbert Wayne Cooper.” She snatched the can of fish balls out of his hands and shoved it back into her purse.
“I didn’t stand her up,” he protested. “I canceled in plenty of time.”
Seth crossed his arms. “She got a text while Mama Leoni was leading her to your table.”
“She hadn’t ordered yet. It’s not like she was out the price of a meal.”
“Seriously?” Seth’s disgust was a lot harder to take than his hard-ass bit.
Audrey’s bacon strip earrings swayed as she wagged her head. “You owe that young woman an apology.”
Yeah, he knew it. What he didn’t know was why he’d allowed Seth to set him up in the first place. Gil liked his privacy. Sure, he liked sex too—a lot—but nine times out of ten, everything that came along with it wasn’t worth the effort.
The one time it had been, she’d waited until the day they returned from her birthday gift—a long weekend in Cancún he’d had no business springing for—to tell him she’d decided to give her ex another shot. Was it any wonder his ego had issues?
Seth was staring daggers at him. If Gil didn’t make things right, and fast, he risked losing the best friend he ever had. Plus Seth would probably want his weight bench back. Then again, the guy seemed to be doing just fine without it.
“It was easier for you,” Gil said. “You never dropped your date’s house keys down an elevator shaft, or leaned in for a kiss and chipped her front tooth, or took her to the diner when she was wearing white and knocked her into a server carrying five orders of blueberry cobbler.”
Seth grinned. “I remember that. They never did get the purple splotches out of the ceiling.”
Audrey was shaking her head. “Just because you’re a klutz doesn’t mean you get to be an asshat.”
The only sound in the store was the chiding hum of the cash register. There was something very wrong about that word coming out of those straight-laced lips.
Gil coughed. “I’ll call Olivia and apologize. Meanwhile, Aud, mind if I get back to you on Snoozy’s gift?”
“Not at all, dear.” She headed for the door, then swiveled back to Seth. “Just out of curiosity, what did Ivy give you when you two got married?”
Seth shifted his weight as blood hauled ass into his cheeks. “A, uh, part for my truck. J-jumper cables,” he stuttered, and it was so obviously a lie, Gil hooted and Audrey’s expression graduated from curious to determined.
“It’s personal,” Seth growled.
Audrey nodded. “Uh-huh. Where is your wife now? Is she at home?”
Seth’s eyes went wide. “She won’t tell you.”
The old woman patted her purse. “Never underestimate the power of a summer sausage.”
Gil let loose a strangled laugh while Seth pulled out his phone and started texting.
“Discuss the subject of my wedding gift amongst yourselves, boys,” Audrey said. “And make sure you come up with something good, because this prime piece of meat is looking forward to a whole lot of tenderizing the weekend after next.”
Once the door shut behind her, Gil and Seth groaned in concert.
“If only we could unhear that.” Seth banged his palms against his ears. “Guess I should have listened when you said you weren’t into Olivia.”
“She’s not into me, either. She only agreed to the date as a favor to you.”
Red flashed back into Seth’s cheeks. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Okay. Fine. I’ll stay out of it. But you owe me one. Hubbard Ridge this weekend?”
Gil and his mountain bike both needed the workout, but he couldn’t pull an economic miracle out of his ass if he was sitting on it.
“Sorry, man. I need to be here. Rain check?”
“You’re not getting enough exercise, Coop. Last time we rode, you puked. Twice. You’re not careful, you’re gonna lose that manly figure.”
Gil wanted to ask what the hell that mattered, since no one would be seeing him naked, but that sounded too pathetic, even for him.
When he didn’t respond, Seth shrugged. “But Joe’s tomorrow night, right?” He read the answer on Gil’s face and sagged back against the counter. “Are you serious right now? You’re blowing off poker night, too?”
“Duty calls.”
“C’mon, bro. We’re already one man down. Harris didn’t say what he’s got going on, but it must be serious if the old man’s willing to miss meatball night. Can’t your shit wait?”
The truth about Gil’s “shit” was that he couldn’t afford to play because he couldn’t afford to lose. And he always lost. But if he fessed up, Seth would insist on staking him.
“Do me a solid, Walker, and let it go.”
Seth pushed upright. “Maybe that’s what you need to be thinking about doing.”
“Don’t even.”
Seth waved an arm at the