With burning cheeks, I look up directly into the scowling face of Harriet. This is why my sisters buy all of their intimate items on Amazon.
“You watch yourself with that boy, Annie. He’s no good for you and definitely not the kind of man you need in your life.”
I turn to the window just in time to see Will laughing and walking away from the market—so proud of himself and his prank.
I think Harriet’s right. Will Griffin is absolutely not the kind of man I need.
Too bad he’s very quickly becoming the man I want.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Annie
It’s go time.
Looking from my left to my right, I exit the alley that runs behind my flower shop and into the parking lot. Immediately I see Phil and Todd—the mouths of the South—so I duck behind my truck to avoid them. It’s hot as blazes today, thick humid heat rising up from the pavement and boiling everything exposed. When I lean against my truck’s bumper, it singes the back of my arm like a hot iron.
Welcome to the South, friends, where you get third-degree burns from leaning against your vehicle. Worth it to avoid being spotted, though. I’d for sure be the talk of the town. Did you hear that sweetie pie Annie Walker spent the evening in Will Griffin’s room all alone? The Scandal!
The thing that bothers me is that if it were Emily or Madison, no one would think twice. But because it’s me, I’d have fifteen visitors the next day warning me to guard my heart.
Phil bickers at Todd about something （it’s always something）， and I wait until they are safely in their truck and driving away to surface from my hiding spot. They’re the last shop owners to leave for the day, so I know the coast is clear. I waited to come back into town until after closing time so I could give everyone a chance to get into their vehicles and go home. Because, not to be dramatic, but tonight is the night when everything changes for me. Will is going to teach me to be a master dater, and I’ll snag a husband in no time.
Will dropped off a note at my door earlier （which made me laugh considering I have a cell phone he could have texted） that said tonight we’re going to write out a formal plan for the lessons. That gave me chills because there’s nothing I like more than a good bullet point list. The letter also came with a hand-drawn map and time stamps of when each part of the mission should be completed. I half expected the note to self-destruct after I finished reading it.
One thing is for certain, the man is thorough. Which begs an intriguing idea of what it would be like to kiss him or even…
Nooooope. Not going there.
Back to the plan. I’m supposed to be outside of Mabel’s Inn at 6:30 P.M., whenWill is going to distract her so I can get inside without her seeing me. Apparently, he’ll give me a cue and I’ll know it when I hear it.
Listen, this is high-stakes stuff. Even Jason Bourne would be sweating if he were faced with the potential of Mabel’s discovery of one of his missions. If she finds out, I might as well go live on Instagram with it because everyone from here to the edge of Kentucky will know about our secret lessons before my foot has time to cross his threshold.
My watch says I have four minutes until I need to be outside the inn. Once the parking lot is empty, I rush across the street. I can’t decide if I should walk normally or hurry while crouching, and I’m afraid the result will look like Annie is about to poop her pants. I’m really hoping Will isn’t watching out his window right now.
A few more blocks and I’m at my destination: Mabel’s Inn.
It’s a gorgeous old Victorian house with a white picket fence around the small lawn. It has the look of a home that was built before the town, and has been a second home to me since childhood. Every Sunday after church, my grandma Silvie would bring us all over here to Mabel’s for lunch. Mabel didn’t go to church, so she was able to spend the whole morning cooking up a huge feast—and I remember thinking how incredibly rebellious she was. Not going to church?! Gasp! I asked her about it once and she just told me, “If I wanted to see a bunch of people wearing fancy clothes and acting fake, I’d go to a steeplechase.” That was that, and I call dibs on being Mabel when I grow up.
The irony is that while Mabel won’t set foot in church, she plays poker with the church ladies at Hank’s Bar every Monday. Unfortunately, she won’t leave here for that event until eight o’clock, so I have to sneak by her.
Instead of following the sidewalk, I hop the side picket fence and plaster my back to the side of the house like Will instructed. No sooner than I’m in place does the front door of the inn open. And then I hear Will’s voice.