Bluegrass Hero. Allie Pleiter
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Название: Bluegrass Hero
Автор: Allie Pleiter
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408963487
isbn:
She was sitting with Janet Bishop, the woman who owned the hardware store, and Dinah Hopkins, the woman who owned the bakery where he took the guys each week. They laughed and chatted in between scenes as if they’d been friends for a while. While Janet had short, dark, practical hair, and Dinah’s was a wild red, Emily’s hair couldn’t seem to decide if it was blond, brown or red—opting instead for a chaotic mixture of all three. It tumbled across her head and down her shoulders in cascades of near-curls that looked too natural to be set, but pretty enough to have been fussed with some. He’d never seen her in a bright color—she always wore pale and pinkish tones that reminded him of Easter.
When he thought about it, her obvious rapture with the play made sense. It was just the sort of nostalgic thing that would appeal to a woman living in a bitty, white, gingerbread cottage that sat like a little frosted cupcake just off Ballad Road. Her window boxes were always full. He suspected all her china matched perfectly. He could see her in the role of Marian the Librarian, even though Audrey Lupine—the woman onstage who actually was the Middleburg librarian—was remarkably good. Audrey added to the true-to-life nature of the play already established by the Middleburg High School marching band playing Harold Hill’s marching band.
Gil’s eyes kept straying to Emily all through the ballad “’Til There Was You.” She rested her chin in one hand and let her head fall to one side during the second chorus, even though the leading man didn’t have a voice to match Audrey’s. She sighed at the song’s ending kiss, and he felt it somewhere under his ribs.
At intermission, Gil ventured over to the Arts Guild bake-sale table. After shelling out an unnatural sum to Dinah for a dozen Rice Krispies treats that were big enough to be Rice Krispies bricks, he ran into Emily and Janet at the lemonade pitchers.
“How are the soaps working out—or should I say not working out?” Emily ventured, nodding her head toward the guys.
Janet Bishop smiled. “I heard the story. Your farmhands put in quite an effort tonight.”
“I had to roll down the van windows on the way here,” he complained, and then realized the rudeness of his insinuation. It was Emily’s product, after all. “No offense, of course. I’m sure you gals think they smell great. I’m just not used to my boys smelling like the fragrance counter at a department store.”
“I must admit, it does seem like they were…enthusiastic in their use of the soap.” A wry smile crept up one corner of Emily’s mouth.
“And the hair gel,” Janet added. “And a bunch of other…things.”
“Tell me about it,” Gil replied, taking a swig of lemonade. “I can hardly wait for it to backfire.”
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