Not the Rebound Guy by Abby Knox (best classic romance novels txt) 📕

But the real reason I was so eager to accept Betty’s offer to sleep on the porch was…well…because of Eliza. I have been stealing looks at that picture of her on the fridge for four years. I’ve listened to all the childhood stories about her about a hundred times. Betty’s entire mood changes when she talks to Eliza.

Whenever I take her to the doctor or out to the farmer’s market, I always know when she’s got news from New York. Her whole face lights up. Anyone who can have that kind of an effect on someone is a person I’d like to get to know.

So, after all this time, when I first laid eyes on Eliza at the airport, I thought I might sweat through my shirt. Striking hazel eyes, tanned skin, brown hair that swept from side to side when she walked. Tight jeans with expensive high heels and a tee-shirt with a band I’ve never heard of, and long, dangly earrings. Cute, sexy, impatient, slightly intimidating, and charming. She bowled me over immediately. Then her husky voice and quick wit took me by surprise and had me curious to know more.

She has the same deadly sense of humor as her Grams, and I already enjoy talking to her.

“Still, I don’t understand why you wanted me to cancel my B&B reservations under the circumstances. Circumstances you never even mentioned before.”

Betty hums like she’s mulling that over. “Maybe I just like taking care of everyone.”

I step into the kitchen, putting an end to my eavesdropping. “She sure does,” I say. “Her rhubarb habanero jam changed my life.”

“Garrett! How’s the faucet?”

I tell the ladies I’m headed downstairs to turn the water back on, and then we’ll see.

The two of them move the conversation to the subject of Betty’s jams and jellies, and I’m relieved they’ve put the matter of Garrett to rest for now.

When I’m all finished inspecting my work, I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. I can’t help but notice Eliza now has a day planner the size of the U.S. Constitution spread across the kitchen table and is writing down facts and figures in the “notes” pages. I once tried using a planner for my little beekeeping and animal husbandry hobby. Didn’t last. And I for sure never used the “notes” pages.

“Grams. According to the orders you just told me about, you have to make six hundred jars. Since when are there that many customers at the tiny farmers market on the first weekend of summer?”

Betty nods. “Oh no. That’s six hundred apart from the farmers market. Last year, Randy at the Grove Grocery ordered three hundred, and they flew off the shelf. This summer, he is gonna raise the price, and he expects when it’s all said and done, I’m gonna make a couple thousand dollars.”

“May I see the contract?”

“Oh, I don’t have a contract.”

Eliza makes a noise that sounds as if she might choke. “No, you have to have a contract. This is too big of an order to have a gentleman’s agreement.”

“No, it’s not. That might not be how things are done in New York, but I assure you, this is all above board,” Betty replies.

Eliza exhales in exasperation. “I’m sure it is, but…this is too much for you. When is all of this scheduled to happen?”

Betty sips her tea, cool as a cucumber. “Don’t worry, Eliza. I have it all under control. The orders go out the second week of June, which gives me plenty of time. And anyway, some of it is already done.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. How much do you have finished?”

“Three batches.”

“Three batches is how much?”

“Oh, about twenty-four jars.”

Eliza drops her pen. “This is a lot of work that has to happen in less than a month. I’m going to call my boss and tell her I’m staying for a third week.”

Betty chuckles. “Can’t argue with that. I’ve always wanted to teach you how to make preserves. Your mom was never into it.”

“I’m happy to help.” Eliza then looks up at me with those striking hazels and says, “Maybe I can rope you into helping out if you’re not too busy.” She pushes back from the table, looking slightly weary from all the planning, and stretches her arms over her head. She arches her back and yawns, effectively pushing out her round breasts. The fabric of her concert tee-shirt stretches out over her curves. I know it’s unintentional on her part, but I can’t control my body’s reaction. I shouldn’t be thinking of groping a woman I just met. But sometimes the shouldn’ts make me want to do the exact opposite.

My mouth says, “Sure, not a problem.” My monkey mind says, “Anything to spend every waking moment next to you in this tiny kitchen for the next three weeks.” My traitorous cock only has one thought: “She said rope. Will she be using an actual rope on me? I hope so.”

Betty sets down her teacup and claps her hands. “Well, now that the workforce is settled, you can put your planner away. Didn’t you say you were going to Hijinks with Nora tonight?”

Eliza nods. “Yeah, but that’s later. We’ve got some business strategies and logistics to go over, still.”

Betty scoffs and rises from the table and walks a little stiffly to the rack by the door, fetching her handbag. “Here,” she says, taking out her change purse, opening it, and pulling out a handful of five-dollar bills.

“What are you doing?” Eliza says.

“A little walking around money,” she says.

“Grams, no. I can handle a few rounds of cheap beer on my own. Put your money away.”

Betty puts her hands on her hips. “Well, what am I supposed to do with my money if I can’t give it to my granddaughter?”

“You already send me too much money every year for my birthday.”

The older woman makes a “pssh” noise as she shoves a clump of bills into Eliza’s purse that hangs by the back door, then turns to me.