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"I'd bedazzle all my jeans if it wouldn't blind the roofing crew and cause accidents," he agreed.
"Safety first." She chuckled and glanced back at his truck in the parking lot. "Weren't you going to bring your cooler for the meats?"
"I buy perishables at the end. No fun lugging around a cooler when you're looking at other things. This is all I need right now." He gripped the strap of the pack he seemed to always have with him, now on his shoulder. Then he squeezed her hand. "And this."
"Being a roofer must pay pretty well if you can buy food like this regularly," she observed, covering the absurd desire to dimple like a teenager. They'd moved into the stalls where the organic, humanely raised meats were advertised.
"Well, yes and no. Subcontractors often get paid crap, but I've run my own roofing business for some time now. I hire the crews that work with me and pay them fair, and it works out well for all of us. Plus, meats are higher priced, yeah, but I don't buy a lot of it. It's a small part of my diet. And a lot of stuff here isn't as expensive as you'd expect, like the fresh fruits and vegetables." He shrugged. "I don't carry any debt. I rent a small place on my landlady's property and she doesn't charge much because I help her take care of her horses."
He cocked his head. "So, if you think about ratios of income to expenses, I'm doing a lot better than most millionaires. Keep that in mind if you're looking to be a kept woman. As long as your needs are small."
"It has ever been my goal in life to be a kept woman. I did offer myself as a sex slave to a very wealthy gay man and his partner, but they didn't go for it. Even though they agreed keep me anyway, as a friend, I didn't want to be a charity case. I wanted the sex slave job."
"Well, that's good news. I can offer you a sex slave position immediately. I have a current opening. I just didn't want to scare you off."
Julie made a face at him, then her attention was caught by something else. "Oh, look at all the colors."
While she wandered into another stall, Des gestured. "I'm going to double back and tell the meat guy what to hold for me. I won't be far."
"Okay. Ask him to set aside a pack of the burgers for me. I'll pay you for them."
His noncommittal gesture as he walked away told Julie she'd probably have to stuff some money in his truck console when he wasn't looking. She wasn't going to let him pay for everything today. Especially since they'd walked through ten stalls and she'd already seen twenty things she'd love to have. A bunch of them were in front of her now.
The colorful kites, windsocks and chimes made a delightful symphony of rustling fabric and striking metal as she ambled through them. The proprietress, a stocky woman with brush cut hair and a giant tattoo of Snoopy on her biceps, was more than willing to talk to her about how she created her wares.
"Do you have a bunch of these where you sleep?" Julie asked at length, turning around in a circle. "I'd keep a fan running so they could make music all night."
The vendor laughed. "It would be a little much every night, but I do have a hammock in my workshop to take naps there. I open up the windows in the fall for just that reason." She winked. "There's a ceiling fan for winter."
Julie trailed her fingers through a field of filmy wind s
ocks that looked like snakes, dragons and rainbows, and left the stall as more customers entered it. She found Des sitting under a tree, knees bent and head against the trunk as he watched her. His expression suggested she pleased him merely by giving him the opportunity to watch her, which brought back that silly teenage dimpling urge again.
"Tired you out already?" she asked, sitting down next to him.
"Just enjoying you," he said. "I spend so much time on rooftops, I forget how nice the view is at eye level."
"Hmm." She linked her fingers over his bent knee and considered him. "I'd like to ask you a question. Conceptual, not personal."
He cast her an intrigued look. "Okay."
"If your dog was trapped in a burning house, and a little boy you didn't know ran out into a busy street, who would you try to save?"
"My dog," he said.
"Really? Why?"
Des ticked off the points on his fingers. "A kid runs into the street, cars will wreck to avoid hitting him, and other pedestrians will run after him to help. Very few might run into a burning house to save my dog, but lots will run into the street to save the child."
"Do you think you'd think it through that fast?"
"My dog only has me," he observed, "and I'm his person. By adopting him, I made a covenant to care for and protect him. He's the most helpless one in that situation, so instinct would take me toward him." He studied her. "Why did you ask me that?"
"It tells me whether you give expected answers, or if you give it straight from the heart."
"Why else?"
"I like being surprised. You manage to impress a girl by not trying to impress her."
