The Rule-Breaker. Rhonda NelsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
being extremely self-absorbed, Mavis could be disturbingly observant. “Yes, of course.”
“Well, aren’t you going to walk over there and say hello? He was Micah’s best friend, after all, and he’s using his leave to volunteer. I think it would be rude and inhospitable for you to ignore him.” She shot Shelby a pointed look. “Like you did at the service.”
Shelby stored her tools, then carefully folded the romper. She felt a blush creep up her neck. “I was understandably preoccupied,” she lied. “And so was he.”
“Maybe so, but he kept glancing at you and you never once looked his way. Say what you will, but I know that your actions were deliberate. It would have been less noticeable had you simply acknowledged him.” She frowned. “I’ve never known you to be so unkind. It was so unlike you. I can only conclude that I’m not in possession of all of the facts and that you had your reasons.” She paused. “However wrong they may have been.”
Subtle as always, Shelby thought. But Mavis was right. He was hurting, too, and she’d been a coward. As nerve-wrecking as it would be, this was her chance to make it right. Besides, she needed him.
Shelby stood, set the romper aside and smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. “If you’ll cover the store, I’ll walk over there right now.”
Mavis beamed approvingly at her. “Of course I will.”
Shelby glanced at her pet and store mascot, then clicked her tongue. “Come on, Dixie,” she said, then watched her eighty-pound pot-bellied pig lumber up from her hot-pink satin-covered bed in the corner. She bent down and clipped the leash to her rhinestone collar, then straightened her custom-made tulle skirt and matching bow.
Mavis merely rolled her eyes. “I swear she’s gained more weight just since yesterday. How much bigger is she going to get?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Shelby told her. “That skirt’s got an elastic waist.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. She’s huge, Shelby. If she gets any bigger, she’s going to need her own zip code.”
Shelby smiled and scratched the top of Dixie’s head. “Nonsense. “
When she’d moved out of the upstairs apartment and bought the house a block from the square so that she could have more room and a yard, Shelby hadn’t counted on being lonely. She’d loved the idea of having more room, of having a little garden to tend, flowers to grow. But she’d barely been in the house a week before she’d decided that a pet—which she’d never had, because her grandmother had been allergic—was in order. A puppy, more specifically. Rather than buy a designer breed, she’d opted to go to the animal shelter.
She’d walked in knowing exactly what she’d wanted—a soft, cuddly, energetic puppy which would grow into a loyal companion. To everyone’s surprise—most especially her own—she’d walked out with Dixie.
The little pig had been abandoned outside the shelter months ago, when the owners had evidently realized that she wasn’t going to stay tiny and cute. It was a common misconception, which had resulted in thousands of the little animals being dumped in shelters all across the country. Knowing that the various dogs and cats would eventually be adopted, and that Dixie’s chances were extremely less likely, Shelby gave in. The thought of leaving her there, trapped in that five-by-five box, was simply more than she could bear.
There’d been a learning curve with the pig—try finding that kind of food on the pet aisle at the Piggly Wiggly—but with the help of her vet and the internet, Shelby had adjusted...and couldn’t be happier. Dixie had personality in spades. She was leash and litter trained, and extremely smart. Shelby grimaced. So smart, in fact, that she’d learned to open the fridge, which was why it was now locked tight with bungee cords. Hardly a permanent solution, but she could only tackle one thing at a time.
And right now, she had to deal with the return of Eli Weston.
Shelby opened the door and allowed Dixie to lead her out onto the sidewalk. The late-morning air was sweet with the scent of sugar coming from Lola’s Bakery next door, making her mouth water. The phrase “blessing and a curse” sprung immediately to mind. If she didn’t lay off the donut holes, she was going to have to start putting additional elastic into her skirts, as well, Shelby thought, making a mental note to eat a bowl of oatmeal before leaving for work in the morning. There. She already felt thinner.
Careful to use the crosswalk, she made her way across the street onto the green in the middle of the square, Dixie trotting along happily beside her on her short stumpy legs.
“Morning, Shelby,” Walter Perkins said, tipping his hat at her, a smile on his lined face.
“Morning, Walter.”
Dixie rooted at the ground, but Shelby jingled her leash, distracting her from whatever had caught her fancy. The pig knew better, but that didn’t stop her from trying. There was only one area that Dixie was allowed to dig and burrow in and that was in the fenced-in area in the backyard. It was her own personal mud hole, complete with a kiddie pool filled with water for cooling off.
In the process of mixing concrete, Hank Malloy stopped and looked up at her, a grin leaping to his lips. “I swear, Shelby, every time I see you with that hog I start craving barbeque.”
Used to the jokes, Shelby smiled. “She’s a pet, Hank, not a pulled pork sandwich.”
Hank’s comment had attracted the attention of the rest of the group, but it was Eli’s gaze she felt the most. A skitter of heat tripped along her spine and a sizzle of awareness made the backs of her thighs tingle. Her mouth went dry and her stomach decided this would be the perfect time to launch a career in gymnastics. It did a few backflips and somersaults, making her momentarily queasy.
“Shelby,” Carl called, waving her over, a big smile wreathing his tanned face. “Look who’s here,” he said, happily clapping Eli on the back.
Left with no other choice, she mentally braced herself and looked at him then. Her lungs seized and rush of warmth spread through her body, concentrating in her palms and the arches of her feet. Every hair on her head lifted, then settled, making gooseflesh race down her arms despite the heat, and her insides vibrated so hard it was nothing short of miraculous that her teeth didn’t chatter.
Sweet mercy...
His gaze was familiar—a glorious mixture of bright greens and pale browns—but heart-breakingly guarded and undeniably sad. Day-old golden stubble clung to his face, emphasizing the hollows beneath his high cheekbones, shading the stark line of his jaw. Dressed in work boots, worn jeans and a navy blue t-shirt that showcased the best pair of shoulders ever, he’d apparently arrived ready to work.
His lips—quite possibly the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen—tilted into something just short of a smile. “Shelby,” he said, his voice the same roughened baritone she remembered. “It’s good to see you.” His gaze dropped to Dixie and a disbelieving frown appeared on his face. “And your...pig.”
“That’s right,” Carl said, chuckling softly at his reaction. “You haven’t met Dixie yet, have you?”
He shook his head, then winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
That’s because she’d gotten her pet after Micah died, but rather than use that horrible frame of reference, she quickly changed the subject. “So you’ve just gotten in?”
He nodded. “Just a few minutes ago.”
“Have you had a chance to look at the plans?”
“Not yet,” he told her. “Carl was just about to show them to me.” His gaze tangled with hers. “You drew them?”
She shot a glance at Carl, who’d stepped away to speak with another volunteer. “Carl insisted.”
He followed her gaze, seemingly reluctant to look at her, and winced sympathetically. “He’s good at that,”