A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(5)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Madge chuckled. “That’s another reason they ain’t going to like you. The girls in this town will be buzzing around you like mosquitoes, with that smile and those city clothes. You look like you stepped right off the TV.”

The only local girl he’d met so far had been Shelby Tucker, and she hadn’t seemed all that impressed. Amused maybe, but not impressed. But then who wouldn’t be amused when confronted with the sight of a man trapped inside a doily bedspread hole?

“Madge, you jawing that young man to death?”

His landlady scooted around Madge and took the seat opposite him. “Get him one of those Specials and leave us to talk.”

Boston narrowed his eyes and decided to forgo pleasantries. “Should we talk about your granddaughter waltzing into my bedroom at the crack of dawn this morning?”

The smile Jessie Stritmeyer gave him was smug. “Well, since you brought it up. What did you think of Shelby? Sweet girl, isn’t she?”

He was thinking more along the lines of insane, but maybe that’s what sweet meant in the country. “She seems to think she can bring a tour through the house anytime she feels like it. That wasn’t in the lease, Mrs. Stritmeyer.”

“Well, actually, it is. It says on the second page that should the landlady find it necessary to enter the house, she is authorized to do so.”

Jessie watched various emotions play over Boston Macnamara’s face. Incredulous was warring with furious.

“That refers to emergencies, like pipes leaking while I’m at work or a fire breaking out.”

“It doesn’t say emergencies, does it? It says if the landlady finds it necessary. Well, I find it necessary to help my granddaughter put food on her table.” Besides, her houses were the best on the tour, if she did say so herself.

Jessie called to Madge to bring her some herbal tea. She couldn’t handle the caffeine in coffee anymore—it kept her up at night and messed with her bladder, and Lord knew she had enough problems with that leaky sieve as it was.

Boston was turning a strange purple, damn near like her petunias. For a second, she rethought her plan, since he seemed a little more uptight than she’d remembered from their initial meetings over renting the house. Then she decided that she had been right. Shelby needed a man with a sense of direction in his life, since she seemed content to float adrift on her own indefinitely.

The girl didn’t even think anything of living in her grandmother’s house, which was just downright sad for a woman in her prime.

Then this here attitude right now was confirmation that Boston Macnamara needed a woman who was easygoing. Someone to help him slow down, relax, and enjoy life instead of racing to get through it.

“Listen, young man, you’re getting all worked up for nothing. The tour only runs twice a day, five days a week, and half the time you’ll be at work anyway. When you are around, the tour is only in the house less than ten minutes.” Jessie smiled at him and patted his white knuckles gently. She did not want him to move out.

“You’ll never find another decent place to stay on such short notice. There aren’t any motels in Cuttersville, unless you want the one out on the old highway that’s full up with prostitutes and that bunch of folks who chant at night and proclaim they’re aliens.” She took in his black shirt and tan pants, expensive watch and salon-styled hair. “You don’t look like the chanting type.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“The rent is a steal, you know that. You could never rent a whole house in Chicago for only fifteen hundred dollars. And you have a housekeeper.”

She didn’t feel a bit of guilt that she was technically overcharging him. It was a steal for him, and a windfall for her. She’d lived too damn long to spend time feeling sorry for folks with money.

Eyeing her over his coffee mug, he asked, “Housekeeper? You never mentioned a housekeeper before.”

“I didn’t?” Jessie feigned surprise. “Well, of course you have one. Mary’s absolutely miraculous.” She didn’t mention just how miraculous. “She pops in two or three times a week and will do whatever needs doing, including your laundry. She’ll even cook for you if you’d like.”

She sensed she was reeling him in. He didn’t say anything, just sat there looking sullen, like Shelby had as a child when she’d gotten in trouble for dirtying her church clothes. Shelby had very little regard for her appearance to this day. Jessie pictured those dusty shorts she had been wearing that morning and shuddered.

Now she wasn’t any fashion plate herself—she was too old and lived in too small of a town to ever be in style—but Lord, Shelby ran around looking like she’d collided with a wheelbarrow full of dirt. It was going to take some coaxing to bring her around to thinking she should set her sights on the immaculate Boston Macnamara.

The little ingrate had actually cussed when Jessie had suggested it over breakfast.

“Mrs. Stritmeyer,” Boston said slowly.

She smiled. “Call me Jessie, honey.”

He set his mug back down hard. “You know, I don’t like the way you’ve manipulated me. But since I’m only here temporarily, I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Jessie knew there wasn’t anyplace else in town he could stay that wasn’t a dump or didn’t require a year-long lease. “Oh, you won’t be sorry. Trust me.” Not when at the end of the day he had her granddaughter keeping him company at night.

“There is one thing, though.”

His cell phone rang and he reached for it reflexively before stopping himself.

Feeling magnanimous, Jessie nodded. “You can answer it. Go on, I don’t mind.”

Hitting the button and holding the tiny phone to his ear, he said, “Samson Plastics. This is Boston Macnamara.”

It was enough to make even an old lady shiver. He was sexier than sin, in her opinion, and she knew Shelby wasn’t immune to that fact, no matter how many four-letter words she tossed off.

Boston spoke for another minute, giving perfunctory commands, then he hung up the phone. He met her curious gaze and said, as if they hadn’t been interrupted, “Shelby needs to knock first. Not on the door to my bedroom, but on the front door, before she and her rubbernecking tourists can come into the house.”

Jessie allowed herself a satisfied smile. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”

If she had anything to do with it, Shelby wouldn’t need to catch the man sleeping in order to see him naked.