“Yes, actually I do. You’re not going to let her scare you, are you?”
But now that he was aware of Amanda’s presence in the store, he felt like he had a spotlight shining on him. And, if the sidelong glances he was getting were any indication, she’d told everyone else in the store about him and his bloodthirsty pack of Middle Age dire wolves. By now he was probably swinging a bullwhip, clad in animal skins.
“Well, hello, you,” said a voice at his elbow.
He jumped. Carrie was off in the salad section, choosing tomatoes.
“Excuse me?”
An elderly woman smiled up at him, her face lined from years in the sun and wind. Her white-blonde hair was pulled back into a thick braid.
“You’re that new guy, out on Mission Range Road, right?”
New guy.
“I’ve been here over four years, so not so new anymore.”
“But no one knows you yet, honey!” she responded with a laugh. “Until they do, you’ll be the new guy, no matter how long you’re here. Now, don’t worry about Amanda. Her husband was deployed three weeks ago. She’s worried to death about being a single mother and taking it out on everyone around her. Those dogs of yours just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, though I’ll say you weren’t really thinking, letting them out off leash like that. Smart fellow like you.”
She tut-tutted, patting his arm.
“You heard all about it, huh?”
“Clinton Calloway was there, so everyone’s heard about it,” she responded. “Now, how’s that problem of Carrie’s going? You were going to fix it, I believe. I hope you haven’t disappointed her.”
She crossed her arms. Ethan felt like a grade schooler just reprimanded by the librarian. And, for an even greater disadvantage, she spoke as if they were friends, when he had no idea who she was.
“Have we… met?” he asked.
“Oh, you’re just precious, aren’t you?” The woman laughed. “We don’t stand on ceremony around here. Everyone knows who you are. You’re Mr. Ethan Nash, the self-centered security guard guy who lives on the old horse farm up near Brett Jackson’s place, behind all the fences, who never comes into town, who drives the fast car with the tinted windows, who doesn’t talk to people. Now, you’re also the guy with the attack dogs who terrorize small children.”
God help him. It was worse than he thought.
“But-”
The woman held up a hand. “The truth doesn’t matter. Only the perception of truth. You want them to think something else about you, it’ll take work. Change their minds. Or maybe you don’t care. Wouldn’t blame you for that, either. Lord knows, it’s a mighty burden, caring what others think. Still, it’s a good town. You might want to try joining in. Not everyone thinks the mayor has sunbeams shining out of his bum.”
“Aunt Pansy?”
Thank God. Carrie.
“There you are,” he said, feeling a rush of gratitude for her presence. Gratitude. Not attraction.
“Aunt Pansy, what are you up to?”
“Up to? I’m simply passing the time of day with a handsome man,” said the older woman, blinking innocently. “Now Carrie, honey, have the decency to introduce us, would you?”
Carrie lifted one eyebrow at her. It seemed to be a signature move.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said the woman, before Carrie could speak. “You’re Ethan Nash. I’m Pansy Oppenheimer. Everyone calls me Aunt Pansy. Or Pan. Like Peter. But with better clothes. Honestly. Every schoolchild knows as much. If you didn’t hide yourself away in your mountain cave all the livelong day, you wouldn’t be so ignorant. Now, I’m late for an appointment. Toodles, children!”
“Bye, Pansy.”
Carrie leaned toward him.
“Okay. Attack dogs? I definitely overheard that. Wanna tell me what actually happened?”
Ethan kept his voice low. “Carrie, it’s ridiculous. Last week, Gun chased after her kid’s ball, that’s it. But now she – or Calloway, according to your aunt – is spreading rumors that my dogs are running around scaring children.”