I turned and saw him unload the baked goods into Beau’s arms. “Take these and go inside. Billy, grab the sad cake. We’ll be in soon.”
Billy gave me a weird smile, like he was a little afraid of me, and I can’t say I blamed him. Meanwhile, Beau winked in my direction and disappeared into the house with a grin.
As soon as the door closed, Cletus turned, his hands on his hips, his eyes large and watchful. “Tell me what just happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“With Billy. What just happened with Billy? What was that?”
I covered my face with my hands. “It was really terrible, wasn’t it?”
“Not terrible . . .” he started, but didn’t finish.
“Right. Not terrible compared to a plane crash.”
He was silent for a moment. And then I heard laughter.
I peeked at him from between my fingers. Sure enough, Cletus was laughing.
My hands dropped and I couldn’t help my smile or my chuckle. His laughter was contagious. Bright eyes captivated me, made even brighter by his pretty lashes, and an exceedingly pleasing mouth full of straight, white teeth. Cletus’s laughter sent a warm and rich something pumping through my veins; it made me think of Swiss chocolate, semi-sweetened, and whipped with cream into a thick, dark, luscious ganache.
“Yeah,” he wiped at his eyes and shook his head, “you’re right. That was pretty terrible.”
I sighed, still smiling because he was still smiling. “I’m sorry.”
“No, no. It’s fine. You fancy Billy.” He shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
I frowned and shook my head. “No. No, no. That’s not it at all. I don’t fancy Billy.”
Cletus straightened, his eyebrows bouncing high on his forehead. “Are you sure? Because that was—”
“No. I don’t. I mean, I’m sure he’s very nice. But that’s not why I can’t form sentences around him.”
He considered me for a moment, then scratched his jaw. “Okay. Enlighten me. Why do you lose motor function around Billy?”
“It’s not just Billy. It’s anyone my father approves of. I . . . I can’t help it. I get nervous, hoping to make a good impression, and end up speaking nonsense.”
“Your father approves of my brother Billy?”
I nodded once.
Cletus gave me a thoughtful frown and appeared to be confused. “You’re going to have to spell this out for me. I don’t understand. How do you mean your daddy approves of Billy?”
“I mean my father has identified a number of men in the area and, well,” I inhaled a magnitude of air, suddenly feeling out of breath, “he’s indicated to me that they’re appropriate, should they show interest. Men with whom I should try to . . . make . . . a good impression.”
My father had told me on more than one occasion how important it was for me to marry well. Growing up, he used to say things like, You aren’t too bright, but luckily you’re pretty enough to catch a rich husband. Just keep your mouth shut and smile. Being pretty and having a nice smile weren’t bad things, but I always found it difficult to reimagine my father’s insults as compliments.
Cletus was back to scrutinizing me; his eyes were clear, sharp and assessing. “Is that so?”
I nodded and rolled my lips between my teeth, feeling like a fool for some reason. My face grew hot beneath his gaze.
“This is fascinating.” He sounded truly fascinated. “Who else is on the list?”
I glanced over Cletus’s shoulder as I tried to recall the names my father had mentioned over the years. “Well, Billy comes up the most. That’s probably why I’m at my worst whenever he’s around. He also mentioned Hank Weller—”
“Hank Weller?” Cletus looked surprised, but not disapproving. “Well now, I guess he is good at fishing and has a fine head for business. Who else?”
“Um, Dr. Runous—”
“Drew?”
“Yes. But that was before he and your sister became involved. He hasn’t mentioned him in a while.”
“Anyone else?”
“Um, let’s see . . . Jackson James.”
“Jackson?” Cletus made a face, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “That ignoramus?”
I tried not to smile, but failed. Cletus looked positively aghast at the mere idea, affronted on my behalf.
“He’s not so bad,” I said, unable to help myself, wanting to see his reaction.
“Yes. Exactly. He’s not so bad. He’s just plain old bad. And he’s certainly not in the same stratosphere as Billy or Drew or even Hank. Your father has impaired judgment and can’t be trusted.” His gaze focused on some spot over my head, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it. I recognized that this meant he was deep in thought.