“I’ve noticed.”
I punched him in the side.
“Hey.” He rubbed his ribs. “Tell me I’m lying.”
“Stop at the green truck outside near the tree. See who else she adopted.”
I changed my glare setting to stun and stared at Dutch. “He’s more your dog than mine, no matter what you say. He keeps escaping from my house to stare at your door with heart eyes.”
Lance tipped back his hat. “I feel like I’m missing half the conversation.”
I moved over to the cart by Dutch. “It’s a long story.”
“Phoebe rambling story long, or actually long?”
“Ask him, he’s the writer.” I pointed a thumb at Dutch. If he wanted to throw me under the bus, I could play that game too.
Dutch rocked back on his heels. “Thanks, Phoebe.”
I stuck my tongue out at him.
“Probably had to rip the Band-Aid off eventually.” Dutch held his hand out to my brother. “Atticus Dutch.”
My brother’s jaw dropped open. “Oh, fuck.”
“You know him?” My gaze bounced from my brother to Dutch.
He reached into his jacket and came out with a battered paperback with a black and red cover. “I just got off my flight. Only thing that made it even close to tolerable was this book. I can’t wait for your new one.” He reached over and shook Dutch’s hand.
I watched Dutch go from polite to shut down in a breath. He covered it well, but I could feel the tension vibrate right through him.
“I’m sure this is tacky as fuck, but would you sign this?”
“Sure. Not every day that someone actually has one of my books in his pocket.” Dutch smiled but it was a distant, plastic one.
Lance patted his pockets. “Shit. I don’t have anything on me.”
I lifted the borrowed hoodie and dug around in my front pocket of my overalls. “Best I can do.” I handed over my paint marker I’d been using on window illustration when I left. “Pink or purple?”
Lance winced. “Purple.”
“C’mon, it’s gotta be the pink.”
“Shut up, Phee.”
I laughed and shook the pen, then handed it over to Dutch. For a second, the stiffness left him. “I’ve used a lot of things to sign, but this is a first.” He used the edge of the produce bin full of potatoes. He flipped to the title page and scribbled inside. Then signed with a practiced flourish.
He closed the book and brushed his thumb over the worn creases throughThe Red Suitcase.
“Sorry, it’s so bent.”
“Nah. Books are meant to be folded and creased.” He handed Lance the book. “First thing I do when I read a paperback is break the spine.”
My brother lit up. “Me too. I keep trying to change over to my e-reader, but I love the feel of paper in my hand.” He flipped open the cover and laughed. “Thanks, man.”
Of course signing a book started to garner attention around us. People craning their necks to see what was going on. Lance shoved the book back into his pocket. “I’ll let you guys get back to it. I just wanted to pick up a few frozen pizzas since I’m hunkering down for some snow. I guess I should have stayed down in Florida for another week.”
“Then you’d bring two storms.” I grabbed a bag of the potatoes and set it in the basket.
