Janet Evanovich - Love in a Nutshell

“Let your staff do what you pay them for, and come to the fund-raiser,” Lizzie said. “You can meet and greet there, too.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“How about you don’t, this time? You skip ninety-nine percent of these things. It makes you look like a hermit.”

He smiled at the gap in her logic. “Only if you can find me to see me.”

“I’m not joking, Matt. This is a town tradition, and we Culhanes have been part of the town forever. Dad wants you there with the rest of the family, even if he’s too proud to say it.”

That was the thing about Lizzie-she’d always known just how to get to his soft spot. She had none of the noise of his other sisters and ten times the efficiency. Matt didn’t want to disappoint his dad. He loved the man, even if he had never been able to pull off working side by side with him.

“I’ll stop by,” he said. “But no way am I staying the whole night.”

“That’s up to you. All I did was commit to getting you there.”

Matt sighed. No doubt another of his siblings had the duty of making him stay.

He wandered out of the kitchen and back to his spot in front of the fireplace, where Chuck slumbered on.

“Anything else?” he asked his sister.

“It would be nice if Depot Brewing dropped off a keg for the event, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

At least then he could be sipping some of his favorite Scottish Ale while being retold the tales of his youth.

“Great. And Matt, pick up Mom and Dad on the way to the hall, okay?”

His mom and dad were fully capable of driving to the hall, not to mention circumnavigating the globe.

“What? You don’t trust me to show up?”

Lizzie laughed. “I just know you.”

“Fine, I’ll pick them up. But so long as we’re horse-trading, do you want to do me a favor?”

“What?”

“When you’re on night patrol, take an extra loop by Depot, could you?”

“Do you want to tell me why?”

“It’s nothing big, just enough small stuff going down that I’d like a little extra attention.”

“Define small stuff,” she said in a voice that was now one hundred percent business.

“One set of flat tires on delivery trucks and an open freezer door. The first definitely took place after hours, and the second, maybe. Either way, an extra drive-by or two would help.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure we swing by more often. There’s not as much to patrol this time of year, anyway. And I’ll see you on Friday, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Matt said.

He disconnected and looked down at Chuck.

“Dude, I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat.”

Chuck briefly opened one droopy hound eye as though to say “no way,” then cruised back to napland. The canine king would not be deposed.

IN BED but not sleepy, Kate reached for the phone to pick up her conversation with Ella.

“I just wanted to let you know I was alive,” she said when her friend answered.

“When you didn’t call back right away, I figured maybe you were putting Matt Culhane to one of the better uses God intended.”

“It was briefly tempting, but no.”

“Do tell.”

“I’d rather not,” Kate said. “It wasn’t one of my better moments. How about if we take a look at my big social picture, instead? I remain in social limbo. I need to start getting out and meeting Ct aer not more people.”

“That, I can help you fix. This Friday there’s a fund-raiser at the Woodsmen’s Hall. Why don’t you come along with me? It’s nothing all that thrilling. There’s beer, potluck, and gossip, but it’ll give you a chance to meet a few more people.”

Kate smiled. “I think you’ve just given me incentive to survive the rest of the week at work.”

Including Thursday’s private Halloween-themed party being thrown by Shay VanAntwerp. Jerry had told Kate she’d be doing a lot of detailed prep work for the gathering. Kate didn’t know what that meant, but she expected it wasn’t good.

“Don’t get your hopes up too high about this fund-raiser,” Ella said, then yawned. Too late. Kate was primed.

WEDNESDAY HAD been little more than a blur of frenzied work as the Depot crew prepared for Shay VanAntwerp’s annual extravaganza. It was now Thursday evening, and Kate was exhausted. She stretched the cramped fingers of her left hand and looked at the jack-o’-lanterns leering at her from tables set up in Depot Brewing’s loading dock area. Wednesday morning, she’d viewed Jerry’s assignment of creating fifty pumpkin carvings as a gift. This was her fun, artsy reward for having become BFFs with Hobart. For the first dozen works of art, she’d been all about the details, shaving away paper-thin bits of rind for perfect translucent accents. Frankenstein and Dracula came to life, along with a tribute to Stella, her poodle. As she’d worked, Kate had enthusiastically separated pumpkin seeds from guts, thinking that salty roasted treats at each of the party tables would be an ideal accent to Culhane’s fabulous brew. But by the afternoon, her gag reflex had kicked in, and washing slimy mutant gourd seeds had fallen off her list of volunteer activities. She had left work and taken a series of long hot showers, both before bed and after she’d woken this morning. No luck. She still smelled like a giant pumpkin.

By 5:30 P.M., Kate no longer cared how she smelled and her artistic impulses had begun to sputter. No more tiny tools for her, just a nasty, sharp filet knife.

“Almost done?” Laila asked as she entered the storeroom.

“Just three more to go.”

“No time. You’re going to have to put them aside and help set up. The early comers are starting to trickle in.”

Kate looked at her watch, which she’d set on one of the table’s edges to avoid most of the pumpkin carnage. “But the party isn’t supposed to start for another half hour.”

“Free beer tends to make for overly prompt guests.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. All the same, I’d really like a shot at finishing. I swear, with my new minimalist approach, I’ll be done with the last three in a flash.”

C=”jem”x201C;Okay, then. I’ll gather up some help to have the finished ones taken out, and you keep carving. Everything needs to be done before Shay arrives. The good news for us is that she always arrives late,” Laila said, filling a cart with grinning heads and leaving Kate alone in her pumpkin kingdom.

Figuring the time had come to kick the assembly line into high gear, Kate grabbed the big butcher knife she’d borrowed from the kitchen and stabbed it into the top of the first of the three intact pumpkins. It sunk in quickly and deeply. The act was weirdly satisfying. She seemed to be developing a very real disrespect for pumpkins.

“You look like a natural.”

Kate glanced up to see Matt watching her from the doorway. She pulled on the knife, but it had gone in too deeply and wasn’t coming out. She tried to rock it back and forth. No luck. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

He approached her. “Problems?”

If one counted among them a heady overappreciation of a man dressed in something as simple as a black polo shirt and jeans, she had exactly two at the moment.

“The knife is stuck.”

“Let me see if I can help.”

Matt came around to her side of the table. Wow, but he smelled good. She caught a hint of woods and green fields. And, unlike her, he didn’t have a bit of pumpkin slime on him.

Kate moved her hand away from the knife, but not quickly enough. They touched, and she swore she felt an electric tingle as her hand involuntarily began to close around his. The sensation was far more satisfying than stabbing into a pumpkin. Good news on the mental stability front.