“You’re thirty.”
“Thirty-eight,” she says, flashing me a smile of relief when I ease up the pace.
“I figured you couldn’t talk if you couldn’t breathe,” I tease.
She shoves my arm, knocking me into the grassy area beside the sidewalk.
We continue down the street in silence. I’m grateful for it because I need a moment to process.
We pass the police department and then the fire department. Kaylee comments about how our emergency staff doesn’t look anything like the guys on the online calendars and how she thinks they hire models, not real emergency personnel. I nod in agreement, but my brain is a block back.
If Grayson has a thing for me—the mere idea makes me shiver—then why does he seemingly avoid me? Why does he rebuff my attempts at conversation? Why do I catch him looking at Natalia when she’s shaking her ass to the band on Friday nights?
Well, I know the answer to that. She’s gorgeous. But the main idea still stands.
If he was interested in me at all, wouldn’t he have taken me up on my offer last night? Wouldn’t that be the easiest, most handed-to-you-on-a-silver-platter thing that ever happened to someone—if they wanted it?
The answer is yes.
And he said no.
The end.
We stop at the crosswalk.
“What are you going to do today?” Kaylee asks.
“I don’t know. I’m off tonight, so I might try to change the ceiling fan in my bedroom. I’ve been putting it off, but it started getting all lopsided and caterwauling like a deranged tiger last night. I’m afraid it’s going to fling off the ceiling and dice me to shreds one of these days.”
Kaylee cringes. “That sounds … bad.”
“It would be bad. Who would even find me to clean up the mess? I’d probably lie there and rot for a month before anyone noticed I was gone. My parents vacation too much. I’m an only child. And, clearly, I don’t have a man to miss my absence.”
“Not true. I’d notice. Asshole.”
We laugh.
“I’ll be at the pizza shop until ten tonight. But if you want a mother-daughter team to help you with your ceiling fan project, Anna and I can come over after we close.”
“I’m sure your fifteen-year-old daughter would love hanging out with us on a Thursday night.”
“Well, my fifteen-year-old daughter is currently grounded from anything remotely labeled as fun because she decided mid-divorce would be the time to develop a fifteen-year-old mouth.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. Yikes.” She looks across the street at Cherry Pie Pizza—her pride and joy, Anna notwithstanding. “I need to get in there and make some sauce. And, if I’m guessing, no one chopped onions last night, and I’ll have to do that too.”
“Maybe I’ll come in for lunch.”
She smiles. “Do that. I’ve been tinkering with a cherry pie dessert pizza. I’ll make one, and you can be my official tester.”
“Sounds good.”
She throws me a little wave and jogs-ish across the street.
A cool breeze rolls down the street as if it’s ushering me toward Cherry Fall Fitness. I peer down the block and take in the glass-fronted building and contemplate getting a quick workout in since Kaylee kept me at a one mile-per-hour pace.
Just as I decide to head that way, a certain rumble of an engine breaks my concentration. I turn around before I can stop myself.
The roar of Grayson’s engine rumbles through the air, getting him a finger-point by a policeman. He hits the gas—or whatever—again as if to say, “Got it.” It makes me laugh.
I walk backward as he comes my way, feeling my stomach flutter.
His hand lifts off the top of the steering wheel. I lift mine at my side. I think I can see his face through the dark tint, and I think I see him smile.
Then again, maybe it’s my hopes and dreams.
If so, I know what really happened. And I know how this ends.
My hopes and dreams are always shattered. Every possibility is really just a roadblock in disguise.
“Screw it,” I say and turn away from Cherry Fall Fitness and down Hope Avenue.
The irony of the street name is not lost on me.
Four
Grayson
“Hey, Rueben.” I nod to the owner of Cherrywood Lumber and Hardware Store. “Did one of my brothers special order something?”
His fingers clatter over the keyboard in front of him. “I think so. Let me take a look.”
“I ran out for a sandwich and Garret told me to swing by and pick something up. Either he didn’t mention what it was or I didn’t hear him because I don’t know what it is.”
Rueben laughs. “I tune out my brother too. I feel ya.”
I lean against the counter as Bryant Beltran walks in.
“Hey, Grayson,” he says, extending a hand.
I give it a firm shake. “How are ya, Bryant?”
“Good, good. Rosie, my boss, sent me over here to pick up some screws.” He looks at Rueben. “Apparently, we ran out. Rosie said she called you, and you said you could help us until our delivery arrives tomorrow?”