AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Oh . . . that . . .

Little bitty teeny weeny thing they call the lovebug

Nobody's ever seen it but it's got the whole world shook up

It all started with a little bitty kiss and a hug

It's a little bitty teeny weeny thing they call the lovebug.

-George Jones

Looks like they're playing house real nice so far, don't it?

*****

FRANKIE:

I hold my needle in the flame for a couple seconds to make sure it's clean, then I look over toward the window, "Who's that?" I ask Harry.

When he turns to look, with one hand I squeeze his fingertip gently and with the other I press the needle down quickly and pull the splinter outta the hole just how it'd gone in there in the first place. By the time Harry turns back around, I am done.

"There ain't nobody out there," Harry looks befuddled.

I smile at him and put the needle back in the box. "All done," I announce.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he tells me, "Well, well. Aren't you just full of surprises?"

"Indeed, I am."

*****

HARRY:

So much has happened already and Frankie's only been here a little over a day. Except for a few mishaps, things are going pretty well overall.

Frankie darn near fell and broke her neck on account of Duke jumping up on her. When I got him as a pup, I wasn't too concerned about training him being I live by myself and all. I don't mind him jumping on me, or sleeping in the bed neither. But when I saw Frankie tumbling to her demise I briefly regretted Duke's entire existence. It was damn near a miracle that I was able to get my clumsy ass across the room in time enough to catch her. Sometimes it's like I'm a walking accident about to happen. Mama used to always say I was a little pigeon-toed, whatever that is. Maybe that's why my feet sometimes seem like they trip up on one another. I'd look back at the ground to see if there was a rock or a stick or something that set me to teetering, but 'twas never anything there at all.

Yep, I definitely felt a thrill that I managed to catch Frankie in time. Plus the bonus of just being able to touch her and look at her that close up. Good Lord, this little lady is something else. So damn pretty, and just the right amount of spunk with a bit of shyness thrown in. I just held onto her not wanting to put her down, so I didn't. I kept a hold of her and enjoyed how she felt in my arms. Her arm was around my neck and her hand brushed against my curls giving me some crazy goosebumps. Then all of a sudden I could feel my pecker waking up and so I had to set her down real quick before she felt it against her bottom. Sweet Jesus! Between holding her in my arms, and that little episode where I heard her calling out my name, I've been thinking about a lot of things that I shouldn't be, as well as sometimes walking around with a little bit of a condition.

By lunchtime, I'd already taken a few measurements and am sitting at the table sketching a plan for the new loft steps. Frankie prepares ham, cornbread, and fried green tomatoes for our lunch. She also sets a pot of beans to cooking so they'll be ready by suppertime.

I go to the barn and cut up lumber that I'll need for the steps so I won't have to make too much of a racket in the house.

When I come back inside and start work, I notice Frankie bustling back and forth between the kitchen and front room. Looks like she's making a patchwork curtain out of some old clothes or something.

"What're you making?" I'm curious.

"Oh, sort of a changing curtain, I guess?" She gestures up to the loft, "So I can hang it up yonder and have a little privacy in case anyone's down here in the front room."

Oh. She means so I don't see her nekkid. I try not to smile, but shoot. I crack a little one anyways.

"What's so funny?" Frankie asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Not one thing," I say. "Where'd you get the fabric?" I ask. Some of it looks pretty nice, and the nice stuff isn't cheap.

Frankie continues to stitch while she talks to me, saying she had some dresses she'd outgrown but held onto because the material was in good enough shape to use for something else. I like listening to her talk. I also like that she's not looking at me directly cause this way I can gander at her as long as I want to, only it keeps me from working on the damn stairs.

Suddenly she looks up, "It's mighty quiet over there for someone who's building some steps," her eyes twinkle. "You have any mending that needs doing while I'm at it?"

"Nah, I'm okay." I respond, too embarrassed to give her my holey socks and my britches with a rip in the seat.

"Nonsense. Fetch that sock with a hole in it I saw this morning and anything else ya got."

With a woman in the house, guess there can't be any secrets.

I go search through my dirty clothes pile, pull out a couple socks and the ripped britches, and set them on the table near Frankie.

The rest of the afternoon we're both at work, me on the steps, and her sewing.

We talked back and forth often, sometimes about silly things Louis and I did as kids or about things we liked or didn't like. I learned she liked wildflowers and that she didn't like green beans, and I told her that I loved sweet corn and peach pie.

About an hour later, I started to smell something tasty coming from the kitchen. She was baking. Baked goods get me more excited than a kid at Christmas, and I holler, "Hot damn! I smell peach pie!" I get up and run into the kitchen with Frankie in hot pursuit.

"Harry Styles! Don't you open that oven! Don't you dare!" Frankie grabs a broom outta the corner and takes some swipes at my behind trying to shoo me away from the oven.

The broom swooshing against my ass is definitely a surprise and I whip around and grab it with my two hands. "Are you trying to paddle me, Frankie?" I try to look serious.

"I'll do what's necessary to keep you outta that pie until it's time for dessert," Frankie stammers, struggling to regain control of the broom.

I take a step closer to her, keeping my grip on the broom tight so she doesn't stand a chance of overpowering me.

"Is that so?" I say, taking another step closer to her, so she backs up one. Then another, and another.

Before I know it, we've done a quick two-step across the kitchen floor and Frankie's against the wall with nowhere to go. A final twist leaves me in possession of the broom which I toss to the floor with a thwack, my palms now flat against the wall on either side of her pretty face.

She is so beautiful. A little nervous, but not afraid. I want to kiss her so badly.

I bring my hand to her cheek and touch her skin with my fingertips as gently as I know how. Frankie looks away, but at the same time she moves her face just a fraction so her cheek brushes against my palm. It's this tiny action that confirms she likes me too. I feel it in my bones.

I do not want to mess this up.

"You're making my favorite pie." I grin at her.

She smiles, "I just wanted to show I appreciate you letting me stay here, and making me a bed, and everything else...you know? Just wanted to do something nice." There's that blush in her cheeks.

I could just stand here and look at her all day and long into the night, but I better not push my luck.

"Thank you, Frankie. You don't have to do extra for me. But from the way it's smellin', I'm mighty glad you did."