Free Foolish Notions by Aris Whittier Page A

me.” He dropped the mail and moved around
her to the pantry. “I bet for twenty bucks you could go and buy
one of those so-called one-of-a-kind pots at the local florist’s
with a plant already in it.” Her expression, one of complete
exasperation, made him smile, so he carried on. “Hell, I think
they sell them down on the boardwalk for ten.”
    “You’re mean, do you know
that?”
    “No, I’m honest.”
    “You’re cruel.” She
pulled the pot close, shielding it. “Besides, homemade is
always better.”
    He tore open a bag of potato chips and
stuffed a handful into his mouth. “Not always,” he said,
watching her search through the pile of shells on the counter to fill
the remaining empty hole.
    After trying several, she decided on a
small silver dollar that nestled nicely with the others. She coated
the backside with a huge glob of glue, and then pressed it to the
pot.
    “Ouch.” The glue gun
dropped and landed on the ceramic tile with a loud tap; the legs of
the stool sputtered across the floor as she jumped up.
    James dropped the bag of chips on the
counter and grabbed for her hand, which she was shaking wildly. “Let
me see it.”
    She batted his hand away. “No,
don’t touch it, it hurts.”
    “Samantha, we have to get the
glue off your hand or it will just keep burning.” He pulled her
by the arm toward the sink and put her hand under the cold water.
After a few minutes he looked at her. “Is it feeling any
better?”
    She nodded. “Yes, a little.”
    “Do you want to take it off or
should I?” James asked as he looked at the dab of clear glue on
her skin. Somehow he managed to integrate a smile into the question.
    “I’m not touching it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And would you please quit looking so smug.”
    “I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”
    “Obviously, the thought of
torturing me appeals to you or you wouldn’t be looking so
amused right now.”
    “Do I look amused?”
    “Yes, you do,” she snapped.
    He raised a brow and said absolutely
nothing as he stared at her lips.
    “Ugh, you’re impossible.”
    Carefully, James reached for her hand.
“If you’re not touching it, then I’ll do the
honors.”
    Samantha pulled her hand close to her
and then took a step back. “No, you won’t.”
    “Samantha, you can’t leave
it there.” He moved toward her. “Stop being a baby—you’re
a nurse, for crying out loud.”
    “What does that have to do with
anything? I may be a nurse but that doesn’t mean I like pain.”
    “Pain?” he scoffed. “You’ve
got to be kidding me. It’s a small dot of glue.” His eyes
drifted gently over her face. “I don’t remember you ever
being this much of a sissy.”
    As she looked down at her hand, her
bottom lip protruded into a pout. “That isn’t small. It’s
at least the size of a penny.”
    He frowned. “Maybe a small pea.”
He cornered her against the counter and refrigerator. “I have a
plan.”
    She looked back up and stared at him.
“So do I.”
    He disregarded her words with a shake
of his head.
    “You haven’t even heard
what I’m going to say.”
    “I don’t need to hear it to
know it’s not going to be a good plan.” When her eyes
turned threatening he blew out a long breath and said, “By all
means. Let’s hear your plan.”
    “I think I should let it wear
off.”
    “Really?” He watched her
with fascinated interest. “I take it you didn’t think
that plan all the way through.”
    She didn’t say a word.
    “Okay, now we can move on to plan
B, which should have been plan A in the first place.”
Carefully, he took her hand in his. “Don’t pull away. I
just want to look at it.” He turned her hand over. It was still
very red. The clear bead was thick and completely dry. “If I
were a nurse and I had a patient with this type of injury I would—”
    “Not call her a sissy and a
baby,” she offered, her brows angled defiantly. “It’s
called good bedside manner.”
    “I would handle