9
Olli expected Spur to show up on Sunday. She’d refused to take his calls on Saturday evening, and instead, she’d texted to say she didn’t feel well and was going to bed early. He’d texted and asked if she’d feel better for church in the morning, and she’d said no.
She’d actually told the man no.
The fact that he’d invited her to church spoke volumes. Around these parts, if a man took a woman to church with him, it was almost as good as a proposal. Spur surely knew the culture of Dreamsville, as he’d lived here for his whole life, just like her.
He’d stopped texting after that, saying he wouldn’t bother her so she could go to bed and start feeling better.
Olli had laid in bed for a long time last night. She’d eaten almost an entire bag of potato chips, and then three of the frozen peanut butter cookies from her freezer. She kept them for real emergencies, and such a spectacular failure in front of Spur’s whole family felt like a state of emergency to her.
She woke sweating and with a sugar hangover, but she didn’t care. She’d shower to shake off the night sweats that came from eating too much so close to bedtime, and she was already planning to make more cookies that afternoon. Her Sunday ritual wouldn’t be swayed by a handsome cowboy, clean boots, and a sexy hat.
Her doorbell rang just after noon, and Olli looked toward the heavy front door. She hadn’t started the cookies yet, but she suddenly wanted a whole dozen to herself. She hadn’t showered yet, and she hadn’t even gotten dressed.
“He’s already seen you in such a state,” she said, but she didn’t move from where she’d been lying on the couch. Something played on the TV in front of her, but she didn’t know what.
Yesterday afternoon, after she’d stomped home from the humiliating picnic, she’d lit every candle in her house and let them burn for hours and hours. They’d filled the space with far too much perfume, and Olli had opened all the windows last night to get the smell out.
“I know you’re in there,” Ginny called. “I have a device locator on your phone, and it says you’re here.”
Olli sighed as she got off the couch. She padded over to the door, her bathrobe swinging around her legs as she walked. She opened the door a few inches and stuck her head in the gap. “You have a device locator on my phone?”
“Of course,” Ginny said, like not having one would be ridiculous. “I’m your emergency person, Olli. What if something happens to you, and no one can find you?” She held up her fancy phone. “I’d be able to, and I’d be touted as the hero who helped the police find your body.” She grinned. “Now, come on. Let me in. It’s hot out here.”
Olli sighed a big sigh, but she stepped back and let the door settle open.
“Why are you not even dressed?” Ginny asked. “You didn’t go to church today?”
“No,” Olli said. “I’m the devil. Sue me.”
Ginny watched her with narrowed eyes, then turned back to close the door. She set her purse on the table by the door and gasped. “You burned Get Your Man.” She peered over Olli’s shoulder to the hall that led back into the bedrooms. With wide eyes and a hushed voice, she asked, “Is Spur here?”
“No,” Olli said, returning to the couch. She flopped back onto the pillows she’d put there, wondering why Spur hadn’t come yet. Church had surely ended an hour ago. Maybe he had more family obligations today.
Those Chappells…Olli wasn’t sure what to think.
Ginny perched on the edge of the recliner and looked at Olli. Her gaze was almost as heavy as all seven of Spur’s brothers, and his mother. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Olli said, staring at the cheetah on the screen. She didn’t even know what channel she was on. She’d considered texting Spur that they were done. The charade was over, and he could stop telling her he liked her. She’d find someone else to help her fool Mr. Renlund, and she’d get the grant.
Easy.
“Okay, this is not okay.” Ginny got up and turned off the TV. “You’re watching Animal Planet, Olli. Animal Planet.”
“So what?”
“You skipped church. You’re not dressed. Every single one of these candles has been burned.” She picked up one jar and then another. “You don’t have butter softening on the counter for oatmeal cookies, and you don’t want to talk about it? You get ready to talk about it, or I’m calling…someone, and we’re going to take you to the hospital for professional psychiatric help.”
Olli smiled at her. “That almost sounded like a real threat.”
“It is a real threat,” Ginny said, her voice a bit haughty.
“You’d have really pulled it off if you knew who to call to take me to the psychiatric unit at the hospital.” Olli giggled, and that got Ginny to crack a smile.
“I could call Elliott,” Ginny said, and that was a real threat.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Olli said.