Chasing Shade

‘Ah, very original.’

‘It’s our specialty,’ she said with a giggle. ‘But the people who live there call it the Patch.’

‘The Patch. Much better.’

‘You’ll fit right in,’ she said.

‘Will I?’

Betsey reminded herself that she was just helping a nice guy out. Nothing more, nothing less. All this stuff she was feeling was just her having gone way too long without any human companionship.

‘You will,’ she said. ‘I can feel it.’

Chapter 4 (#uf73d4060-9cff-515c-a40a-e3eb279dec68)

He kept catching glimpses of her and her blushing red cheeks. It was very fetching, Archie thought, how flustered she was. It had been quite a while since he’d been with a woman, and Archie forgot how incredibly hot it was when one recognised your advances, welcomed them and reacted so viscerally to them.

It was a shame he wouldn’t act on it. Couldn’t act on it. And yet, as stupid as it was, he couldn’t help flirting with her. Wooing her.

‘Right here?’

‘Yep,’ she said. He watched her long thin fingers rubbing nervous circles on her nylons.

Did she have any idea what a sight like that would do to a man? Was doing to him? Considering she just kept on doing it, he guessed not.

‘I can drop you off? Then find the office, I guess.’

‘I’ll come with you. Introduce you. If you don’t mind, though, I’d love to change. Nothing says end of shift like taking off my clown costume.’

He grinned at her. He’d very much like to see her out of her ‘clown costume’, but he knew what she meant. ‘Sure. Direct me and I’ll take you wherever you want to go.’

‘Just follow this road down and I’ll tell you when to turn. Mine’s the pink one.’

‘The pink one?’

‘Yep. The Pink Lady is what everyone calls it.’

‘Why am I not surprised? Did it come pink?’

‘It did. My uncle gave it to me after…’ She petered off and Archie caught it. Caught the shift in her words and her mood. It felt best to let it go. Just let it go. So he did.

‘I think I see it,’ he said, changing the subject.

‘You can’t miss it.’

She was right. It was a small Airstream painted a vibrant pink. Pale-blue window boxes were attached below the windows. She had a small flower bed – now dormant for winter – by her porch. It was one of the most charming little places Archie had ever seen. He wasn’t surprised a bit that she lived here. She was, so far, one of the most charming people he’d ever seen.

There was something almost painfully real and honest and kind about Betsey Smith.

He didn’t know what to do. He seemed to make her skittish. Betsey threw open the door and stepped out. When she leaned in to grab her bag and the diner takeout containers, Archie forced himself to stare at the dashboard. It really needed to be waxed and –

‘Are you coming?’

‘What?’

‘Are you coming in?’

‘Oh. I…should I?’

She cocked her head and smiled at him. Archie didn’t think he’d ever seen a sexier expression on a woman. Amusement mixed with surprise mixed with exasperation.

‘Well, you can’t sit out here in the cold. I’ll only be a moment. Then we can walk over to Mr Booth’s. He’s just a few trailers down.’

Archie followed her, taking in the neatness of her porch and her small yard. He saw a bike chained to the porch post and guessed when she didn’t want to walk she biked around.

‘No car, hunh?’

‘Can’t afford one. It’s a home or a car. Plus, whenever I really need one, Mr Booth loans me his. Or sometimes Tony from work. Or I get a ride. I make do.’

She seemed to make do in all areas. Definitely a when-a-life-hands-you-lemons woman. Which he liked. He wished more people were like that.

‘I’m the opposite,’ he said. He ducked through her front door feeling like he was entering a Hobbit hole. ‘Truck but no place to live. I guess that might be changing soon thanks to y–’ The words died on his lips when she flipped the light switch. The interior of her trailer lit up and his breath caught.

Her home was just as magical as she was.

She mistook his look for one of disappointment.

‘I know it’s not much,’ she said. She pulled her jacket off and hung it on one of a few pegs by the front door.

‘You’re joking, right?’ he asked. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Her trailer was small. Her main room, in which they stood, had a built-in sofa and cabinetry, some of which she’d turned into open-faced bookshelves. She had small white fairy lights running along the ceiling. The wood of her built-ins was dark, maybe oak, and her sofa was covered in a colourful throw and a gaggle of fluffy, brightly hued pillows.

She was watching him, he realised.

‘It’s awesome,’ he finished weakly. He was rewarded with a smile. ‘May I?’

‘Sure!’ Betsey put the food in the small fridge and flicked on the kitchen lights. ‘I’ll be in the bedroom changing.’

Her kitchen was smaller than the main room and there was no demarcation between the two but what Betsey had managed. Which was a very small two-person bistro set. Chrome and red vinyl. Three sets of decorative salt and pepper shakers lined the backsplash behind the tiny sink. Wiener dogs, owls and pigs. For some reason they made him happy. They fitted so well with Betsey’s personality.

She had stacks of mismatched dishes, again in bright patterns and colours. Her teacups were the same, nary a matching set. All her dishware was stacked neatly in open-faced kitchen cabinets. Her curtains over the sink were sewn-together bandanas.

‘Where do you get all this stuff?’ he called. She was closer than he realised because when she answered from behind the closed bedroom door it sounded like she was in the room with him.

‘I haunt thrift stores. Flea markets. We have some good ones around here. Two big ones yearly – Spring and Fall. A lot of the rich lake folks like to attend but I go for the traveling pros. People who go around hitting all the markets selling their wares. They have the best stuff…and they know how to haggle!’ She laughed after she said it.

He found himself grinning like an idiot. The whole place and its owner made him smile. He was having a hard time remembering when he’d smiled this much. If ever.

She popped her head out of the bedroom. ‘Make yourself at home. Want a coffee? Tea?’