Thyme for Love #5

There’s a new story for the new year. Thyme for Love takes place in Oak Grove Square, the tiny Texas town where Victoria and Toby met and fell in love last year. This time Cupid has another unsuspecting target in his sight. Sally, a devoted business woman and owner of Crafter’s Cottage, just met an organic farmer interested in being a vendor at the upcoming herb festival.

This week we’re writing to the prompt ‘stutter’. Return to TUESDAY TALES for more great snippets.

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“No. Just me, myself, and I. No helpers. No wife.” Izzy laughed and his eyes twinkled as he replied. “Why? You know anyone willing to apply?”

“Uh … no … for a wife? … I mean … or the helper? N-n-nooo … I …” Sally broke off before she embarrassed herself any more. A scarlet flush crept up her face. “Oh god,” she muttered more to herself than to him. “You must think I’m a moron, not able to speak a coherent sentence.”

He chuckled softly. “Naw. I think it’s kind of cute.” He handed her his completed forms and pulled a wallet out of his back pocket. “Is cash for the booth okay? Or do you need a check?”

“Cash is fine. Let me get a receipt for you.” Sally fumbled under the counter for a receipt pad.

Izzy stood holding a hundred dollar bill in his hand as she was writing. Glancing around the counter packed with gift items and small impulse buy temptations, he spied a card holder. He took a card and looked it over. “So,” he asked. “Is there a Mr. White that goes with Sally White?”

It was Sally’s turn to laugh. “No. No Mr. White. Just me, myself and I,” she tossed his prior statement right back to him.

A lopsided grin brightened his face. “So, Ms. by-yourself Sally White, how about if I treat you to some of Hank’s mouthwatering BBQ for lunch or dinner one day? You know, to go over where you want my space to be, and what kinds of herbs and plants you’d think would be best for the festival.” He hesitated. “Unless you eat there too often and are tired of it, being right here in town and all.”

“Oh no! I can never get enough of good BBQ. Hank’s pulled pork sandwiches are the best I’ve ever had. I’d love to join you.” She rushed to add, “To discuss the festival, of course.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Just a friendly business meeting. With the beautiful fair organizer.”

She swatted at his arm. “You smooth talker, you. You’re just trying to get the best booth space by flattering me.”

He looked her square in the eye, a dead serious look on his face. “No. No, ma’am. That’s one thing I do not do. I say what I mean and mean what I say. My daddy taught me that. Life is too short to have to cut through the bull shit. The only words that come out of my mouth are true ones. Believe me. I’ve met some snakes that don’t know how to speak a word of truth. They wouldn’t know the truth if it bit them in the rear. I don’t aim to be one of those fellows.”

Her opinion went up a notch. It wasn’t often that she heard a man speak so honestly. She found herself looking forward to getting to know the man standing before her – an odd mix of long haired hippie – farmer boy – cowboy hat wearing Texas boy. Maybe there was more to life than just work, work, and more work. “Dinner sounds delightful. At Hank’s. Any particular night?”