Page 50 of The One You Want

“You keep your chickens inside?” Grant blurted out, and I elbowedhim.

“The pieces are too small. We don’t want them to choke,” I pointed out, and Jerry’s expression turned horrified. I nodded my head down to the end of the row. “Deanna has roasted sunflower seeds down there. That might be a nice treat for yourgirls.”

His expression relaxed. “Thanks, Jenny. That’s a great idea.” He nodded once at Grant, tucked the bag against his chest, and headed off down the row of vendors,whistling.

It was everything I could do not to laugh as Grant turned to me with an expression of bewildered horror. “What in the hell wasthat?”

“That was JerryBrooks.”

“Has he escaped from somewhere? Should we be calling someone to come fetchhim?”

“Jerry’s not crazy. He’s just…eccentric.”

“He keeps chickens inhis house,” Grant saidflatly.

“Not all ofthem.”

He just gaped atme.

“Okay, his attachment to those birds might be a bitstrange—”

“He wanted to buy one anecklace!”

I did laugh then. “Jerry’s harmless. In fact, it’s kind of sweet how much he loves hisanimals.”

Grant just stared at me for a long moment. “Your island is crazy, has anyone ever told youthat?”

“Oh, all the time,” I said breezily, reaching for the rest of my sandwich. “Just wait until you meet themayor.”

“What’s wrong themayor?”

“Nothing.” I chewed on my sandwich. “He’s just a former All-American football star who happens to be excellent at ballroom dancing and has an amazing collection of garishly coloredbowties.”

Grant shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and returned to help the next customer while I finished mylunch.

Things didn’t start slowing down until much later in the day. By four p.m. I was nearly out of product and there was finally a break in my line that lasted longer than five minutes. Thinking I would take a minute to walk around and visit with some of the vendors I knew, I kneeled down to dig myclosed for nowsign from a box under the table. Just when I finally found it, a shadow fell acrossme.

Thinking it was another customer, I pasted a smile on and stood up, only to see Bradford standing there, a huge smile on his face. He was dressed in what I assumed was casual wear—for him, anyway—though his perfectly pressed khaki pants and salmon colored V-neck sweater didn’t exactly scream relaxed tome.

“Good afternoon, Jennifer,” he said, sticking a hand in his pocket in a posture of easy-going coolness that I was sure was wellrehearsed.

“Hey, Bradford.” It was all I could do not to grit my teeth. What in the hell was he doing here? Following me around the island was one thing, but coming here? For the first time, I started to feel truly uncomfortable about his efforts, rather than justannoyed.

“Your grandmother mentioned you sold your trinkets at local craft fairs,” he said smoothly, and just like that, my annoyance took the lead once more. He glanced down at the table, clearly unimpressed. “What a funhobby.”

“What are you doing here?” Isnapped.

A brief flash of irritation crossed his features before he smoothed it out. “I recently closed on a house not far from here,” he said. “I was exploring the area alittle.”

“So it’s just a coincidence our pathscrossed.”

There was the irritation again. “When I saw the craft fair, I did wonder if you might be here. Thought I’d come check itout.”

Yeah. I was so sure that’s whathappened.

Bradford leaned in a little closer over the table. “Can you leave soon? There’s a cute little bistro in town, I would love to treat you to dinner.” He glanced down at my table. “I could help you packup.”

“I’ll be helping her pack up,” a gruff voice said at my side, and we both turned to see Grant standing there, arms crossed over his flannel-clad chest. My heart gave a great swooping sensation as I looked up at him, standing there so imposing, somehow looking even bigger than usual, his expression a dark-eyed glare onBradford.