With a smile and a wave, she ran through the rain and into the shop.
The rain kept customers away and sent her mother into an organizational tirade. But the entire time she was inventorying dusty odds and ends and listening to her mother’s endless complaining about her father’s mood since Brody announced his run for mayor, India was thinking about Brody. And an idea was beginning to take shape. A scandalous, ridiculous idea she wasn’t sure she’d have the nerve to put into actual words, but it was one of two options.
One, forget last night ever happened. Or two, engage in a no-strings fling with the man she was crazily attracted to. As long as the no-strings part of it was understood and assured and no harm would come to their friendship.
Which sounded absurd. How could she go to bed with Brody and stay friends? Was that possible? The bigger question was, could they engage in this without involving their families? The last thing she needed was her dad finding out—she was a grown woman but she was dependent on him right now, and while she hated indulging in the feud drama, she also couldn’t disrespect her dad when he’d opened his home to her and Cal. Besides, her cabin on the ranch might not be permanent, but it also wasn’t guaranteed. Cal and the triplets were another concern. The kids couldn’t get attached—she’d be leaving Fort Kyle as soon as she was able.
She and Brody were adults. If they went into this with no illusions, it could be good. Or great. She fully expected it to be great. There was no denying the fact that they shared a mutual attraction. Why not act on it—pure attraction?
“I’m heading out. You need anything?” her mother asked, her umbrella in hand. “Since it’s slow, with the weather and all. If you want to close up shop after school lets out, that’s fine by me.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she said, tapping her pen against the tablet she’d been doodling on.
“You okay, India? You’ve been awful lost in your thoughts today. I’m worried you’re working too hard. It’s not good for you. Maybe you could join the quilting circle? Or the book club? Something you’d enjoy that’s just for enjoyment’s sake.” Her mother paused. “There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun now and then.”
If only her mother knew what sort of fun she’d been thinking about for most of the day. “I’ll try, Mom. You be careful driving in this weather.”
Her mother smiled. “I will. You, too. Dad sent in a work truck to get you home.” She’d told her parents about the feral pig, but not where she’d been going at the time. “I’ll see you later on at Fire Gorge.” Her mother pushed through the front door, opened her umbrella and hurried up the near-flooded street toward her Cadillac SUV.
India set her pen down and walked toward the front windows. The taillights of her mother’s vehicle disappeared at the end of Main Street. A quick look told her most of the street was deserted.
Because of the rain. She could remember just how it felt against her cheeks, with Brody’s lips pressed against hers. Even now, standing in her mother’s shop, she felt warm. And alive.
The phone rang, so she hurried back to the counter. “Antiques and Treasures on Main Street. How can I help you?”
“India? Katherine McGee. I wanted to touch base with you about the Monarch Festival. I saw you signed up to volunteer. Did you have something in mind?”
Saying no to volunteering? “No—”
“We’re only asking folks to work two-hour shifts, so they won’t miss out on the fun. Since you’ve helped make wings before, would you mind helping with that? It’s nice when we have someone with experience for that one—since it can be messy.”
India had made a new set of wings every festival. Wire clothes hangers, wrapping paper rolls, pipe cleaners, tissue paper, old sheets and more. Whatever she could get her hands on, she’d use. For a girl with a good imagination, and a solid coating of glitter, anything could be turned into butterfly wings. “For one shift?”
“And, maybe, we could ask you to work the Butterfly Kissing Booth. You’re young and pretty and might entice a few more fellas over for a kiss or two.” The woman laughed.
India frowned. “Mrs. McGee, I’m not sure I’m the right woman for the job—”
“Nonsense, India. You’re gorgeous. And sweet. Butterfly kisses aren’t real kisses—eyelashes instead of lips. Maybe even have some real fun and buy yourself some false eyelashes to really tickle.”
A clap of thunder shook the front windows, drawing India’s gaze. A red truck was parking in front of the shop. Brody’s red truck.
“How does that sound?” Mrs. McGee asked.
She was only half listening now. He was here. And her idea no longer seemed like a bad idea. It seemed ridiculous. And yet, for the first time in her adult life, she wanted to be adventurous. With Brody Wallace. “Fine,” she mumbled.
“Oh good, good. India, I so appreciate this—we all do.”
India watched as Brody ran through the rain onto the covered wood porch and opened the door to the shop. He stood inside, his jacket dripping on the welcome mat covering the wooden floor of the old building.
“I’m happy to help,” India murmured. One more distraction she didn’t need.
Brody winked at her and hung his coat on the coat rack and his hat on the hook above that.
He was gorgeous. His tight jeans hugged his thighs and showcased his rear to perfection. When he crossed the room and leaned against the counter at her side, all she could do was stare.
“This year’s festival promises to be the best so far,” Mrs. McGee said.
India hurriedly jotted down the dates and times Mrs. McGee gave her for the next meetings and said her goodbyes. She hung up the rotary phone handset, tried to calm the nervous tingles in her stomach and smiled up at Brody.