floor and lost his grip on the container. A jangling thud as three thousand plastic cap roofing nails hit the floor. Bits of bright orange skittered under the counter and beneath the shelving, like prisoners eager to escape their cage.
He could relate.
He could also see a lot of time on his hands and knees in the near future.
With a sweep of his foot, Gil shoved the nearest band of fugitives aside and assumed the position. An unseen nail bit into his kneecap and he swore.
And got smacked upside the head.
“What the—?” He twisted around.
Seventy-something Audrey Tweedy stood over him, legs braced, eyes righteous, her puke-green monstrosity of a purse cradled in both hands. He jumped to his feet before she could strike again.
“Audrey.” He dusted off his hands and pushed his glasses up his nose. “What can I do for you?”
“Besides watch your language?” Her high-pitched, pixie-like voice matched her short, tousled hair but not her lumberjack physique. A plastic strip of bacon as long as his pinkie dangled from each earlobe.
“I didn’t know you were there,” he muttered. He kicked more nails under the counter and rubbed his head. “I apologize.”
“You can make it up to me by helping me find a wedding present.”
“Who’s getting married?”
Audrey shifted her grip on her purse. Luckily, the thing jogged his memory without making contact.
“You and Snoozy,” he said. “Next weekend. Justice of the peace, right?”
She beamed. Wisecracking, protein-pushing, tougher-than-toenails Audrey Tweedy goddamn beamed, and Gil felt a burn in his throat that had nothing to do with stale coffee.
“Less than two weeks,” she said reverently. “I can’t wait to be a bride.”
“Audrey, that’s—”
An exasperated glance and a beefy elbow to his gut turned the rest of his words to a wheeze. So much for sentiment.
“I need a gift for my bridegroom,” she said. “I seem to have caught you at a bad time, though.” Hands on hips, she surveyed the orange-dotted floor, then pointed at his knee. “You might want to get that.”
He looked down. Oh. Right. He freed the nail protruding from his knee. Luckily the thing had grabbed more denim than skin.
“A broom would work better.” She rummaged in her purse, gave a satisfied cluck and held out a squat tin can.
Gil squinted at the label. “You have to be joking.”
“If you ate more protein, you’d have probably been reaching for a broom before that box even hit the floor.” She lifted an eyebrow, as if expecting him to start slurping the contents of the can right then and there. Yeah, not going to happen.
When he slid it onto the counter, she sighed and nudged a roofing nail with the toe of her tennis shoe. “These are pretty, dear. What are they for?”
“Roofing felt. And house wrap.”
“Do they come in other colors?”
“You cannot be considering these for a wedding present. How would you feel if Snoozy got you a box of thumbtacks?”
“You have a point.” Audrey snorted. “See what I did there?”
The cowbell over the door did its thing and Gil braced himself for the Hazel and June show. Wherever Audrey Tweedy was, her cohorts, the Catletts, weren’t far behind.
Ever since the sisters had been elected co-mayors of Castle Creek, their appearance made people especially nervous: they never walked away from a conversation without first having talked someone into donating their time or their money in support of the Catletts’ longtime pet project, the community center.
At the moment Gil was short on both, which meant only one thing. He’d have to throw Audrey under the bus.
When feed store owner Seth Walker strolled into the store instead, Gil relaxed. Until he got a load of the look in his trail buddy’s eyes.
Crap. Saturday night.
Gil backed toward the counter and reached out, blindly searching for a distraction. His fingers closed around the gift from Audrey. Meanwhile Seth smoothly greeted the older lady while laser-beaming his disapproval at Gil.
“Fish balls,” Gil said.
“Yeah, you should be worried.” Seth threaded his fingers together and made a show of cracking his knuckles. “How about after you finish up with Audrey here you meet me out front?”
Gil shook the can at Seth, thinking its easy-open lid probably tasted better than what was inside. “I’m trying to be polite here by offering you a snack.”
Seth squinted at the label. “Glad you finally got yourself some balls, man. A little big for you, aren’t they?”
Audrey tut-tutted at Seth. “That’s not very nice.”
“Neither is standing up a date. One who was so excited about your dinner plans that she went out and got herself a new dress.”
Gil winced.
Audrey gasped. “Gilbert Wayne Cooper.” She snatched the can of fish balls out of his hands and shoved it back into her purse.
“I didn’t stand her up,” he protested. “I canceled in plenty of time.”
Seth crossed his arms. “She got a text while Mama Leoni was leading her to your table.”
“She hadn’t ordered yet. It’s not like she was out the price of a meal.”
“Seriously?” Seth’s disgust was a lot harder to take than his hard-ass bit.
Audrey’s bacon strip earrings swayed as she wagged her head. “You owe that young woman an apology.”
Yeah, he knew it. What he didn’t know was why he’d allowed Seth to set him up in the first place. Gil liked his privacy. Sure, he liked sex too—a lot—but nine times out of ten, everything that came along with it wasn’t worth the effort.
The one time it had been, she’d waited until the day they returned from her birthday gift—a long weekend in Cancún he’d had no business springing for—to tell him she’d decided to give her ex another shot. Was it any wonder his ego had issues?
Seth was staring daggers at him. If Gil didn’t make things right, and fast, he risked losing the best friend he ever had. Plus Seth would probably want his weight bench back. Then again, the guy seemed to be doing just fine without it.
“It was easier for you,” Gil said. “You never dropped your date’s house keys down an elevator shaft, or leaned in for a kiss and chipped her front tooth, or took her to the diner when she was wearing white and
