Page 9 of Mountain Man's Angel
Audra: D-A-T-E
Perfect. I'll pick you up for our all-caps date soon.
Audra: LOL! Thank you. I appreciate the clarity.
This time I only change my shirt twice before leaving. When I arrive five minutes early, Audra, as always, looks stunning. Her flowy dress today has a bit more shape, fitted around her bust and hips – still loose, but I can see the outline of her silhouettemuch more clearly. It's a dark dusty blue shade that turns her warm, brown eyes caramel in the sunlight.
Once we're on the road, she asks, "So where are we going? What's this important arts event?"
“One with a lot of shopping opportunities," I say. "If you like something enough to use it or wear it even once, I’m buying it. If you have a friend or relative with an upcoming birthday and you see something appropriate, I’m buying it. I brought shopping bags."
Audra bursts into laughter. “So, you’re on a mission to spend money today?"
"Yep." I flash her a grin. "It’ll make sense, you'll see."
After a long conversation about why living in the mountains is healthier, which I'm happy to note she agrees with me about, we pull up in front of a school. She bursts into laughter when she sees the signs for the Cedarvale Summer Camp. Even though my family sponsors the local summer camp, this fundraiser brings the community together. It ensures the camp is free for kids who might otherwise lose touch with their friends during the summer holidays. It also gives parents a much-needed break.
"None of my family can make it this year," I explain. "It's a Wolfe thing. We always show up and drop a lot of money, since it's for the kids."
I help her out of the truck, letting my hands linger on the luscious curves of her hips. She taps her small shoulder bag. "I've got cash too, and I’m happy to spend it on kids."
My hands slip up to her waist, shaking her gently from side to side. "Sorry, ma’am. This is a date. I have to take care of my woman.”
As Audra’s warm eyes twinkle, there’s a twisting deep in my gut, like the tumbler of a lock clicking into place. Audraismy woman. She might not realize it yet, but it’s true.
We meander around the event, admiring the crafts at every table. Audra notices some candleholders for my dining room, and I spot some book ends we agree are both sturdy and attractive. I buy three sets of them, then we find ourselves at a table with handmade jewelry.
The glass beads shine brightly in the sunshine, almost as brightly as the smiles of the two little girls, clearly sisters, with their auburn hair in braided pigtails. I’m terrible with ages, but they look to be maybe seven or eight. I turn to Audra. “Could you please look away for a minute?”
“Sure.” She saunters off to a nearby table to look at plant pots, but I’m sure she’s still listening.
“Do you think she needs some jewelry?” I ask the girls.
“Yes!” they both exclaim. Then the taller one leans close to whisper, “She’s wearing blue. Does she like green as well?”
Considering that most of the items on the table are bright pink, and Audra seems to prefer a muted palette, that feels like the safest choice. “I think so, yeah.”
The sisters try not to bump into each other as they set out a selection of three necklaces, three bracelets, two pairs of earrings, and two hair clips. All are done in blue, green, and silver.
“She’ll like these,” the older one says with authority. “And if you really like her, you should get two things instead of one.”
“If you reallyreallylike her, get three,” the younger girl says, nodding wisely.
I sneak a look over my shoulder, to see Audra pretending not to listen. Then I lean in, holding my shopping bag open against the table. “What if I really, really,reallylike her?”
The girls look at each other, then pick up the whole pile, dumping it into my bag while giggling hysterically. I hold my finger over my lips to tell them to stay quiet, then slip themthree folded hundred-dollar bills. Their expression makes it very difficult not to laugh.
A quick glance to the side confirms that a woman, obviously their mother, has been watching the whole exchange. “Don’t forget to thank Mr. Wolfe,” she murmurs.
“Thank you very, very much, Mr. Wolfe,” the older girl says with a huge smile.
The smaller girl grins. “Yes, thank you.” She flaps her hand for me to come closer so she can whisper in my ear. “I hope she really reallyreallylikes you, too.”
“I hope you’re right, ladies.”
As I walk away, I hear them twittering to each other happily, clearly beside themselves: “Ladies! He called usladies!!”
Audra is barely holding back her giggles as I join her at the plant pot table. We choose five of them for my mother, then a few more things from other tables. By the time we return to the truck with our bags of treasures, Audra is shaking her head.
