Page 11 of The One You Want

Grant’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned across the table conspiratorially. “Insane, huh? Tell memore.”

“These women…” I shook my head. “They’re a public threat, Grant. Seriously. Actually, I should have warned you when you moved here. Stay far away from theLibbies.”

“I’m sorry. Aren’t the Libbies a book club?” He asked. “I heard Sadie Taylor talking about attending a few weeks ago, and she’s like, sixty-something. How scary could a bunch of old ladies with booksbe?”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “You have a lot to learn about this island,buddy.”

Grant chuckled, obviously enjoying this. “Okay, so tell me. What’s so crazy about theseladies?”

How to describe the Libbies? I had once watched Sherry Mercer and the aforementioned Sadie Taylor—who was, in fact, in her late sixties—participate in a tequila shot challenge. That wasn’t the kind of thing an innocent girl like me shouldwitness.

“The Libbies did start as a book club, but they hardly ever talk about books anymore.” I considered for a second. “Unless it’s some really raunchy erotica, in which case they try to enlist men passing outside to come in and read italoud.”

“Wait, what?” he asks, eyeswide.

“They’re nuts, Grant. There’s always supposed to be an activity—like baking or talking about a book or learning how to do something new. One time we learned about aromatherapy and made our own perfumes. That was kind offun.”

“So where does the nuttiness comein?”

“They drink so much! You have no idea. Whatever we’re doing that night is usually just an excuse to getdrunk.”

I could tell Grant was fighting a laugh. “And you’re not much of adrinker.”

“Well, no,” I admitted. “But even if I was it wouldn’t matter. I swear, these women could put a frat house toshame.”

“So you’re freaking out because trying to lead these women is like herdingcats?”

I thought about Lady, Ernie, and Mittens and gave a little shudder. “More like corralling circus monkeys. Who are drunk. And trying to sexually harass every male monkey who passesby.”

His lips were twitching with amusement and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh. “So you’re saying Ishouldn’twalk by Libby’s store at eight onWednesday?”

I hit his arm. “Grant, this isserious!”

He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. So they’re nuts and a little bit scary. Duly noted. But I’m still not seeing the big deal. It sounds like you can just pass around a few bottles of wine and be done withit.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. Everyone who leads at least tries to plan something. It can get off track pretty fast but there’s always an activity at thebeginning.”

“Again, not seeing theproblem.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. “I don’t know how to doanything!”

He let out a snort of incredulous laughter. “Jenny, give me abreak.”

“What?”

He tilted his head so we were eye level. “Are you even serious right now? Hillman, you’re the best damn fine metals artist in threecounties!”

A wave of heat washed over my face and I was sure I was every bit as red as the poppies sitting on Grant’s worktable. “That’s not…I mean, I’m…it’s ahobby,Grant.”

He stared at me. “What in the hell are you talkingabout?”

I fiddled with the hem of my cardigan, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just something I do for fun, you know? I’m not anartist.” Just saying the word sent my tummy dipping like I was on a carnival ride. “I like to mess around with crafts sometimes. But I’m not qualified to teach anyoneanything.”

I chanced a glance at him and found him wearing a strange expression, one I couldn’t read. He looked both disbelieving and also…disappointed, maybe? Whatever it was made my flush deeper and I lookedaway.

“Anyhow, I don’t think jewelry making is what they’re lookingfor.”

He stared at me for a minute longer before shaking his head, as if clearing it. “Jenny, seriously. You have cases and cases of beads. I’ve seen them. Bring them in and do a simple demonstration. Or, hell, I don’t know. Show them how to braid a friendship bracelet. Then add a bunch of liquor and you’re allset.”