Casually hiding her nervousness, she changed the direction from the large playground. “Hi, Greer.”
He turned from staring at the parking lot. “Hey.” His greeting wasn’t very enthusiastic.
Irritation kept her from moving away, even though she knew he wanted her to.
“You look like you’re waiting for someone.”
His jaw tightened. “Jo’s on her way. She’ll be here any minute, so shoo.”
Any thought of teasing him disappeared. “Oh … Then I’ll leave. I don’t want to interrupt your picnic.” She started to walk away.
Holly had no idea that his relationship with Jo had progressed to picnics. Neither Dustin nor Logan had said anything to her, and she hadn’t wanted to bring up Greer to them for fear of appearing too interested.
She wished she’d had time to prepare herself instead of seeing the intimate setting he had arranged for their lunch.
“Might as well sit a spell. She doesn’t seem to be coming here anytime soon.”
She took a step backward. The last thing she wanted to do was see them together.
“Sit.”
Holly dropped to the blanket, dismayed that she had obeyed his order as she had seen Logan do.
Aggravated at herself, she started to get up, but Greer’s placing one of the boxes near her and, seeming unconcerned, opening his to take out a chicken leg stopped her.
He nodded at her, taking a bite of chicken. “Might as well eat. It will be cold before she gets here.”
Unsure of why, she opened the box to see a chicken leg and fried potatoes. Unable to resist, she picked up the chicken and took a bite.
“That tastes so good.”
Greer’s lips quirked. “Is it good because you didn’t have to cook it?”
“I hate frying chicken.”
“I know.”
Holly raised a brow. She had never complained when Logan asked her to make it, yet she had always tried tempting him with anything else to keep herself from making it.
“I’m not on a first-name basis with this chicken.”
Greer’s head tilted back as he laughed. The skin of his neck was tanned, dipping into the flannel shirt that he had unbuttoned to his chest. Holly had to force herself to look back down at her food to keep from staring at him.
“How are my hens doing?” she asked.
“Still breathing, if that’s what you’re asking. I have a couple of eggs sitting in the fridge. I’ll drop them off one day this week.”
“You can keep them. I can buy—”
“I don’t need them, and you can fix them for Logan for when he stays over.”
“Then thank you. I’d appreciate it. I can give what I can’t use to Willa.”
Greer reached for a small cooler, taking out a small plastic pitcher and two plastic cups, handing one to her. After he poured her a cupful, she took a drink of the pink lemonade, enjoying the tart taste.
“Thank you. Jo’s going to be upset she missed this. I’m impressed.”
“Really? Why?”
Holly shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I imagined your idea of a date would be making a hot dog and watching a movie.”
“With beer instead of pink lemonade?”
“Yes.”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Go for it.”
“Is that the same cooler you put your fish in?”
“No, I bought a new one. Relieved?”
“Yes.” She finished her drink, holding it out for him to refill. “Can I have some more?”
“Woman, if you thought that was the same cooler, why did you drink the first one without asking?”
“I didn’t want to start an argument. It’s nice not fighting with you,” she confessed, waiting for the old Greer to show himself.
“Why should we fight? I got what I wanted.”
Her appetite disappeared at the reminder of what had led to her leaving.
“You can’t miss that dump.”
“It’s not a dump. It had a new kitchen.”
“That’s about it. The floor it rotted through most of the house. I’m working on fixing it up. Already replaced the floor. I’m going to paint it when I get the bathroom done in my new bedroom.”
“You’re tearing out my bathroom?”
“It’s mine now, so hell, yes, I’m remodeling it when I get the crop in. I’m about ready to bust that sink if it keeps dripping.”
“It’s vintage.”
“It’s pink. The whole fucking bathroom is fucking pink.”
“It was in style when your father did it. Tate said your mother loved it. He said she cried when she saw it.”
“Because it was so fucking pink. She hated it. She just didn’t want to hurt my father’s feelings.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Hell, no. One time, she gave Rachel and Dustin markers just so they could draw in there so she would have an excuse to tear it out.”
“Why didn’t Tate know that?”
“Because she didn’t say anything to him. She was afraid he would tell Pa.”
“But she told you?”
“Yes, because he blamed me, since I was supposed to be watching them, and made me clean it. Ma felt so bad, so she told me.”
“Is that why it’s still pink? She felt bad about you getting in trouble and decided to live with it?”