I nod. “Makes sense.” The more I get to know Liza, the more I’m certain there’s no way in hell she’s cheating to win. But that doesn’t mean someone else in town wouldn’t do it.
“You sure are interested in the competition. I’m beginning to think you might be as cutthroat as Mom and Eve when it comes to winning.”
“I’m competitive when it comes to things I want.” I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it. “Now, let’s get some food in you. Then I’ll take you home.” I jog around and open her door right as a rust bucket truck pulls up nearby. Ladders are haphazardly strapped along the back, and the exhaust pops a few times before the engine dies a rattling death.
“Oh, great.” Liza stands and forces a smile for the man who steps from the truck. “Hey, Mick.”
“Liza.” He gives her a nod, then looks at me. “Evenin’. You two getting dinner?” He glances at the diner. “Me too. Maybe we can all–”
“Actually, I was just picking up an apple pie for our dessert. I’m making dinner for Liza at my place.”
“That so?” Mick tucks a greasy strand of dark hair behind his ear.
I glance at Liza.
“Yes. I’ll just, um. I’ll go in and get the pie.”
“Tell them to put it on my tab.” I watch as Liza makes a hasty escape.
Mick walks up to me as my phone buzzes again. “You gonna get that?”
“You do a good job with the lights.” I glance at the nearest power pole with the old-timey Santa at the top. “I’m sure Liza appreciates your hard work, especially when the town wins the Spirit of the Season award.”
“She appreciates me, but not as much as I appreciate her.” He glares up at me.
I step to him. “I suggest you keep your appreciation to yourself.”
“That’s how it’s going to be, is it?”
“That’s how it is.” I try to size him up, to figure out if he’s the one who broke into the library, but he gives nothing away.
“We’ll see.” He turns and goes back to his truck, starting it up as Liza comes out with a pie in her hand.
“What happened?” She waves at Mick as he backs out in a hurry.
“Nothing. Let’s go.” I help her into the car, then wrack my brain about what I can possibly make for dinner.
When I get back into the car, I sit for a moment.
“Crane?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s gone now. We can go in and eat at the diner.”
I catch her trying to hide a laugh behind her hand.
“What? I can cook.” Now that’s a bald-faced lie.
“You were just doing a thousand-yard stare, and I’m pretty sure it’s because you have nothing to eat at your place.” She laughs. “Come on, let’s go in. … Wait.” She holds a finger up.
“What?”
“Just so you know. I’m keeping the pie.”
“That’s fine.” I lean over and kiss her. “I’ve already had dessert.”
14
LIZA
“Sorry,” I tell Eve as she drives us back to town. I’m clicking away on my phone, responding to a few emails.
Okay, I might be checking to see if Crane texted me, but he hasn’t. We’ve gotten into a bit of a routine with him taking me to work in the mornings. He comes inside every day and lets my mom and Eve pepper him questions. Lately, he’s even been asking some of his own. I’m not sure if he’s truly interested or just trying to be friendly. Either way, I adore that he’s making an effort with them. I think they’re enjoying it as well.
“He text you?”
“I was responding to an email about the stage that has to be put up.” It’s not a lie. I had responded to that email. Then I checked my text messages again. Maybe I checked them before I emailed, too. But who’s keeping track?
Gah, what is wrong with me? Why am I obsessing over this? We’d done our normal routine this morning, but I’d taken the afternoon off to go into the city with Eve. Cora and Libby are watching over the library for me. They’re two seniors from the high school that always help out when I need spots filled.
“Liza, I know you better than you know yourself.”
“Fine,” I huff. “He hasn’t texted me. Not a single message all afternoon.” I drop my phone and fold my arms over my chest. I know I’m pouting, but I don’t care. Only Eve can see me.
“Is there something more going on? He’s probably busy working.”
“Whose side are you on?” I glare at her.
“Fuck that motherfucker. Let's slash his tires.” I burst into laughter. She totally would do something like that if I asked her. “After he sees that dress you got for the bachelorette auction, you’ll never be free of that man.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.” I glance to the back seat where the garment bag containing the dress is hanging.