As much as her boundless energy overwhelmed me at times and made me a bit jealous of her people skills, I preferred that version over Autumn trying to dim her light.
“Okay?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’ll take ye to Scales & Steam now. That’s where you were going, right?”
I turned on her seat heater and started the van.
“Yes. Thank you, Ross,” she added.
We drove in silence except for the radio. I always listened to Radio-Active in the mornings. They played nice music and had interesting features about small businesses in Scotland. Maybe one day they would feature Wild Bull Roast. It was a dream I had never shared with anyone.
My private castle in the air. No pets allowed.
This morning they ran a special feature on Conall White, the Scottish folk sensation who had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth after his messy and public divorce. His ex-wife had given interviews to the worst kind of gossip magazines and aired all their dirty laundry.
“Nobody knows where he’s gone. Some speculate he is at the Swedish summer house he owns,”the early morning presenter said.
“Unlikely,”his co-host cut in.“He used to go there with his ex wife every summer. I wouldn’t set foot in it again after what happened. I would sell that place for all the memories that came with it.”
“You have a point there, Lou.”
They kept going on about Conall White’s private life, and finally played another one of his songs.
“Oh God, thank you!” Autumn blurted out. “That was painful to hear.”
“Right? Why don’t they leave the poor man alone?”
“If I were him, I would’ve gone away, too. Take a break from everything until the dust settles.” I felt her eyes on me and suddenly my van seemed way smaller than usual. Even as she tried to make herself small, there was something about her that took my breath away.
“Me, too, yeah. Maybe he’s getting treatment for his burnout,” I mused. Like I had.
“Is that what happened to you?” Her voice sounded tentative. “A burnout?”
“Minus the ugly divorce, yes.” It came out as a grunt. “Sorry, it’s okay for me to talk about it. I’m not trying to snub you.”
“Don’t worry, I’m used to your grumpy arse by now.”
This came so unexpectedly that I gaped at her for a moment before focusing back on the street.
“I didn’t call it ‘Wild Bull Roast’ for nothing,” I muttered, gripping the steering wheel so hard the leather creaked under my hands.
Autumn made a non-committal sound.
“I’m not good with people. When I worked at the bank,Iwas the team. I had my own office in my own department, and I was so good at it.” I failed to keep the wistfulness out of my voice.
“You miss it.”
“No.” I meant it. “The money was nice, and I enjoyed my work. But no job is worth my health or sanity.”
Quoting my therapist since 2038.
“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “You seem to like roasting. I mean as far as I can tell with all the growling and grumbling.”
Cheeky monkey.
“I love it,” I admitted. “It makes me happy but…”
