No—he was staring at her shirt. Which was odd, because it wasn’t low-cut or sexy. It was just an old t- shirt with leopard spots on it. "Um… well…" he said, and the stammering was also odd. She’d known Darren Greene since high school, and he’d always been one of the popular kids, the jock with cheerleaders dripping off him. She saw him around the small town of Swift Creek, Virginia on a regular basis nowadays, constantly flirting and laughing with women. He never got tongue-tied, as far as she could tell. But right now, he hardly seemed able to get a syllable out. "Let’s start with the basics," she said. "What color were you thinking of?" "Um… I guess…" He looked at her shirt once more, then closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear the sight of it. She wondered if she’d spilled grape jelly on herself this morning, or what. "Um… green." "Of course," she said, nodding. Since Darren ran a lawn care business called Greene Thumb, that was inevitable. She should have guessed.
