“I’m going to wait outside in my truck, like I just got here. They won’t know. Got that? Act surprised when you see me.”

“Yes.” She turned on the shower full blast.

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Mary Beth put on a demure blouse and buttoned it up, then slipped into jeans and flat sandals. She’d blasted her hair dry to buy herself additional minutes in which to compose herself, letting it tumble over her shoulders.

Skip the makeup, she told herself. Innocence was what she wanted to convey.

Conversation downstairs drifted up without her being able to hear the words. It was time to put in an appearance and act surprised, but not too surprised. She didn’t want either of the women to suspect anything.

She went downstairs, following the conversation into the kitchen. Parr was seated at the table, a tomato sandwich on a paper plate in front of him.

“There you are,” Sheila said. “Look who’s paying us a call.” She beamed at Parr, who got up as Mary Beth entered. “He was always such a gentleman,” Sheila stage-whispered to his mother.

“Hello, Mary Beth,” he said politely, as if he hadn’t just been wrapped around her yearning body, lost in mutual lust.

“Hi.” Nonchalant tone. Wide eyes. No one seemed suspicious. “When did you get here?”

Alma got her two cents in. “He said he’d call you. I did too but your phone was off or the battery died.”

Mary Beth feigned dismay. “Oh gosh. Could be either. Sorry about that.”

“It happens,” Parr said. “Anyway, I heard the shower running, so I didn’t come in. Then these two came up the driveway.”

“We had to rescue him from Shep and Beau. They believe in sharing the love, as you know.” Sheila’s comment was addressed to Mary Beth, who smiled in return. “And hey, thanks for filling up the basket,” Sheila added.

“Oh, it was fun. The garden is amazing.”

“It’s out of control. Alma, are there more tomatoes?”

“Two,” Alma said, looking into the basket. “No, three. Mary Beth, would you like a sandwich? We had lunch in town.”

“Sure.”

In five minutes, she was seated across from Parr, not meeting his gaze as they both ate. The two other women did most of the talking. Parr finished ahead of Mary Beth and took his paper plate to the trash can.

What a good boy. If they only knew. Mary Beth turned her head to chat with Alma instead of looking at Parr. “How was the flea market?”

“All my stuff sold fast,” Sheila announced. She was making ice tea from a powdered mix in a pitcher filled with ice cubes and water. She moved to the sink to rinse the long spoon. “Mary Beth, are these your rings?”

“Ah—yes.” Mary Beth looked at Alma, forcing down a flash of guilt before she spoke. “I took them off before I went into the garden.”