Shaking the Sugar Tree

Chapter 2: Carding Jackson Ledbetter

The next day I worked the express lane at FoodWorld (“Nobody beats our meats!” declared one of our unofficial mottoes), dealing with a steady stream of crazed Saturday customers who were in such a hurry to get somewhere else more interesting and fun that their manners seemed to have been abducted by aliens. I was constantly reminded that “fifteen items or less” is not a widely understood concept.

I was just about to go on break when a young man in blue scrubs plopped down two cases of Dos Equis on my counter and smiled such a heavenly smile that I thought the butter might slide right off my biscuits.

“How you doing?” I asked, my voice squeaking a little.

“Couldn’t be better,” he said in a Yankee voice. “You?”

“Still not dead,” I offered, wondering what a Yankee was doing in the heart of Dixie wearing scrubs and looking so damned fine.

“Good deal!” he exclaimed.

“Gotta card you,” I said, putting a hand on one of his cases of beer.

“No problem,” he said, offering a new Magnolia State driver’s license. I spent perhaps a bit too long staring at it, as you do when you’ve got more than cashiering on your mind. Seems “Jackson Ledbetter” was born on September 15, 1985, making him twenty-eight years old. He was 5’10”, 148 pounds, with brown hair and brown eyes. That hardly did justice to the Greek god standing before me, this angel who looked like he had just stepped out of a Caravaggio painting. Best of all, he lived right down the street from me. Better, my gaydar was twitching like a jack rabbit at a rodeo.

I could see him looking at the name tag on my chest: I’m Wiley Cantrell. How may I help you?

“Wiley’s a cool name,” he observed with a slight smile.

Was he flirting with me?

I certainly hoped so.

“Will that be all?” I asked.

“I’m having a housewarming party starting at six. Why don’t you come?”

“That’s very kind, thanks.”

“Terrace View Apartments. Number twenty-two. See you there?”

Was he openly flirting with me while a string of coupon-clutching customers waited?

“Sure,” I said.

“Cool!” he exclaimed. His eyes lingered on mine rather longer than they should have before he grabbed the beer and sauntered away, looking sexy in those scrubs.

Damn, he was hot.

I could do some loving on that man. I really could. Do some loving and shake the bejesus out of his sugar tree.