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Happy?”
    “Not even close.”
    He barked out a laugh. “You have a wicked sense of humor, Bev. Who knew?”
    “I am not feeling in the slightest bit amused at the moment. You are nothing but a big bully, Tom Jenkins.”
    “I can live with that.” He let out a long sigh and squeezed her hand gently. “Come on, Bev. Don’t make me go over there…alone.”
    All the tension in Beverly seemed to melt away. “I guess you don’t make many social calls, do you? Feeling a little rusty?”
    “Rusty enough to warrant a tetanus shot, probably.”
    Bev squeezed his hand back. She wasn’t tugging anymore or trying to get away. That was good.
    “Fine. I’ll go. But I’ll tell you something, Mr. Jenkins. You will be helping me with the extra casseroles.”
    He smiled.
    She rolled her eyes.
    They spent half an hour at the neighbor’s house. He pumped up the flat bike tire and watched the little kid zoom around the neighborhood. Bev met the mom and patted the baby’s back. When Jason smeared peanut butter all over Beverly’s jeans, she hardly flinched. He caught her eye and shot her a wink.
    She tried to suppress her smile, but failed.
    All in all, it wasn’t the worst experience of his life.

 

    B everly surveyed the Hardin Market with a critical eye. It was perfectly functional, but nothing special. She really only needed odds and ends for her holiday meal, but she was planning to drag out this shopping event for as long as possible. Tom had pulled the rug out from under her, and it was not a comfortable feeling. He’d kissed her! Which wasn’t the worst part.
    The worst part was that she’d liked it.
    She was used to Tom being an ass…rude and insulting. This new Tom—the one who revealed a vulnerable side, a sympathetic side, and most shocking to her, a sensual side—was throwing her for a loop.
    The market was one place she had her bearings. Produce, dairy, baked goods. Everything had its place. Everything made sense. No surprises.
    “So you see what you’re looking for?”
    Bev jumped and reached for her pearls. Her missing pearls. She took a deep breath.
    “Tom, I have asked you not to sneak up on me, please. Also, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to wait in the truck.”
    “I got bored. And I remembered a couple of things I wanted to get.” He lifted a six-pack of beer.
    She shook her head. “Thank goodness you didn’t forget the beer. Thanksgiving would have been ruined.”
    “I know.” Tom leaned against the cooler, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.
    A plump middle-aged woman pushed her cart past Bev and glanced at Tom. “Well, Mr. Jenkins, how are you doing? Looking forward to Thanksgiving? Will you be seeing your son and his wife?”
    Tom grumbled something under his breath.
    “Mark and Celia are coming with all the grandchildren! We can’t wait to see them.”
    He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the squash.
    “Well, it was nice talking to you. Hope you have a nice holiday.” The woman smiled and continued on her way.
    “Honestly, Tom, that wasn’t very nice. That woman was attempting a conversation with you,” Bev said, not bothering to cover up the disapproval in her voice.
    “That woman never shuts up. If I had squeaked out even one word, I would still be here, three weeks after Thanksgiving Day. Believe me, the best way to discourage her is the silent treatment.”
    “Did it ever occur to you that having social interactions might actually be a nice change of pace? You just spent some time with your new neighbors and it didn’t kill you, did it?”
    He shrugged. “I’ll bet you’re in a knitting club. And a card club. And a birding club—”
    Bev laughed. “Yes, I have some social clubs. I enjoy spending time with other adults.”
    “Well, I don’t.”
    “You must have to deal with people for your job.”
    Tom tapped the cigarette pack in his front pocket. “Not too much. That’s one of the reasons I like it. Folks tell me