His mother went back around the corner of the house, leaving them alone. Mary Beth had forgotten how long a landline could ring. Seemingly forever. The ringing stopped but Alma’s voice carried through the windows as she picked up with an exuberant “Howard! Well, hell-oo!”

She’d only just seen him yesterday. Mary Beth was getting the feeling that the relationship between her father and the lively widow was more than a friendship, or would be soon. In any case, the phone call would take a while. Alma never rushed a phone call from a friend or relative.

Self-consciously, Mary Beth put her hands in the pockets of her skirt. Parr’s dark gaze locked on hers, then moved down for a few seconds. He met her eyes again.

“There’s dirt on your blouse too,” he said.

She brushed it off, then let her hand drop to her side, uncomfortable under his steady gaze.

“You’re so buttoned up.” His mocking voice was low and a little rough.

“That’s because . . .” She trailed off. He could guess why if he wanted to. She didn’t have to tell him.

“Are you wearing the necklace I gave you, Strawberry?”

Her lips parted as she mouthed a yes. The ruby pendant hidden between her breasts might as well be glowing. How had he known she wouldn’t be able to resist wearing it?

“Let me see it.”

Mary Beth didn’t have to go that far. She raised her hand again, touching the button over her heart, with no intention of opening it. “Trust me. It’s right here.”

The sound of footsteps, followed by a different male voice, not as deep, saying hello, made her whirl around.

“Hey, Parr. Mary Beth.” Bobby Joe crossed the lawn to her, stepping over the lumber in his way. “Mom said you were out here. She’s glued to the phone, waved me away. How’s it going? Need my help?”

“Nope. I don’t need anything from you,” Parr muttered. He picked up the stapled instructions and studied them.

Bobby Joe slid a hand around her waist and squeezed a little too hard. “I got you something,” he whispered into her ear.

“Oh?” Her answer was distracted. With Bobby Joe’s lips staying on her ear, she didn’t have to look at him. Her gaze never left Parr, who had turned his back to both of them.

Bobby Joe captured her left hand and held it up so the diamond ring caught the last rays of the fading sun. “Something for the other hand,” he whispered. He slipped a small box into it, laughing softly into her ear. “Go on. Open it.”

Mary Beth shook her head, turning to focus fully on him. “Not here. Let’s go inside.”

“I don’t care if Parr sees.”

“Well, I do.”