33. Marnie

It is possible to actually beat eggs.

I whipped those suckers with the rage and the frustration of a woman who rebuked a man she’d rather be sleeping with.

I spent the entire night replaying our last conversation. Editorializing, adding endings that made my stomach clench with anger. Dusty taking that blonde brat home. The girl so slim and long she made me look like a bridge troll in comparison.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she touched him. There was something proprietorial about it. Like she’d had him before and intended to have him again.

It’s not like I thought Dusty was a virgin.

You don’t handle a woman’s body with skill like his without getting a little practice in first.

But there’s a difference between knowing he had a past and seeing his present. Seeing that girl line up after me like maybe Dusty ought to put a rotating door on his barn.

The least he could do is not flirt with other girls right in front of me.

At least let the smoke on our smoldering fling clear before he moves on.

I wanted to call him all sorts of things.

Dumbass.

Man whore.

At the last moment, I pulled back, settling for the less sharp player instead, but was surprised by his reaction. Like I’d hurt his feelings.

Like I’d hurt his feelings.

He was the one flirting with another girl right in front of me, and yet, I was the one who felt guilty.

Which, of course, just made me angry.

Whipping the eggs, I glance over at Ed and shake my head. “Your daddy is a real piece of work, you know that?”

Ed looks up from the rug by the table and thumps his tail once. Flopping onto his side, he stretches his chonky legs out and sighs. I gave him a bath earlier, and we were both a little surprised to see that his fur wasn’t dusty brown, but the color of chocolate.

A chocolate lab, as advertised.

I still don’t like the big beast.

But it’s hot outside, and he looked like he needed some sympathy. I’m settling for an emergency truce.

“You stay over there, Mr. Ed. I can’t be getting any dog fur in these cupcakes. RayAnne would never forgive me.”

He yawns, head suddenly perking up. He’s on his paws, waiting at the back door before the doorbell even rings. Wiping my hands off, I swing the door open.

The bird lady waits on the other side of the screen door, looking fresh and radiant in a floral romper. And far too perky for my current mood. “Hi.”

I push the screen door open and let her in. “Andy. Hi.”

She pauses, glancing at the array of mixing bowls on the kitchen counter. “I thought I’d come by and see if you needed any help.”

“Help?”

She blushes, those pretty apple cheeks turning light pink. “Unless I’d just get in the way…”

I did have a ton of work ahead of me. “Do you know how to use a pastry bag?”

She shrugs. “I could learn.”

“Good enough.”

I hand her a frosting bag and show her how to make the perfect swirl. Flinging a tray of cupcakes in front of her, I return to my cake batter. “Did you really just come to help, Andy? Or do you have an ulterior motive?”

She grins. “Can’t it be both?”

She pauses, examining the frosting swirl on her first cupcake. “You left in such a hurry yesterday…”

“I just wasn’t feeling well, that’s all.”

She tilts her head. “Did that sudden illness have to do with a certain pretty Pierson girl?”

“The blonde?”

She nods, moving on to the next cupcake. “Her name’s Shea. You don’t need to worry about her, Marnie. Dusty and Shea might have dated here and there, but he never looked at her the way he looks at you.”

I really, really need to set her straight about Dusty and me. “And how does he look at me?”

Andy pauses, meeting my gaze. “Like a man on fire.”

I flush, turning back to my mixer.

“Dusty and I went to school together. From kindergarten on. All four of those boys were in my class. We called them the Golden Boys.”

I think of the four of them, all blessed by good genetics. Nothing but impressive height and masculine beauty. “Seems appropriate.”

“They were so high above the rest of us. Dusty was the only one of the four who could really hang with anybody. His buds were rich, but Dusty’s parents weren’t, so I think he had one foot in each world.”

I nod, pouring cake batter into the pans I prepared.

She looks up at me. “You don’t always know what people are going through in high school, but Dusty’s troubles were front page news. His dad died when he was just a kid.”

“He mentioned that.”

“Car accident when we were in fourth grade. It was kind of awful, to be honest. And then his mom found out she had lupus…”

“That’s rough.”

“She fought it for a few years, but then got some sort of infection.”

She pauses, fiddling with the frosting bag. “I guess he had to help with the bills and all that. Probably had to grow up pretty fast.”

I slide the pans in the oven and lean against the counter, studying her. Subtlety is obviously not her strong suit. I remember being her age. Thinking not only that it was within my ability to fix other people, but a righteous calling. People are struggling? My job to fix things.

Time has disabused me of that philosophy. I’m more likely to take people as they are without trying to meddle. I’m pretty sure her heart is in the right place, but there’s something patronizing about the way she airs Dusty’s past. It makes him look pathetic.

Which he is not.

He’s a good man, even if he is a little promiscuous, loyal and generous. Always ready with a smile, and that’s not something you can say about most people.

I grab my bowls and shove them in the sink. “Let’s talk about something else.”