I glanced away from the computer screen to the mounted fish on the wall. Its large orange eye stared knowingly.
Shoving my hands in the pockets of my jeans, I started for the door only to be stopped when Candace walked in, breathless and already grinning.
“Hi. Good morning. I saw your truck.”
She was wrapped in a green sweater that made her hazel eyes glow warm and golden. Candace looked so damn excited to see me that I nearly confessed to what I’d seen on her laptop.
I could feel the judgmental weight of Lance Bass’s lifeless, frozen gaze at my back.
Everything I’d planned to say this morning left my head in a rush. I cleared my throat. “Hey. I brought you some pumpkin scones,” I told her, pointing to the plastic container like a jerky marionette.
“Thank you,” she replied happily, already moving to retrieve them. “These look great.”
While she broke off a piece of crumbly breakfast pastry and popped it into her mouth, I tried to make the words come. But seeing her scrambled every option on the table.
Before I could decide on the best path forward, Candace finished chewing. “This is delicious. Thank you for making those for me.”
I was ready to admit that Wenn had actually made them, and we’d been out shooting again last night at Craggy Peak, but then she said, “Would you like to go out to dinner tonight? Or grab a drink after work?”
She looked so fucking hopeful that my throat closed up. My frantic heartbeat was the only thing getting through, and I knew if I tried to speak, my voice would shake with the force of it.
Candace Judd was asking me out on a date. Like that was the next logical step after making out in the Apple House. And maybe, for a normal person, that was.
I didn’t have the luxury though. For a moment, I tried imagining what it would be like to be a regular guy on a date with someone like her. But as the town pariah, I was so far removed from that option, the daydream just wouldn’t stick. Hell, it wouldn’t even materialize.
Instead, I thought fast. How could I fix this? I didn’t go out in Kirby Falls. I avoided restaurants. I didn’t attend trivia nights or play rec-league softball. There was no frequenting of bars or breweries. That outing to Flyers’s grand opening had been an exception, not the rule.
Trying to extrovert myself now, with Candace on my arm, was a path to disaster. I’d make her look bad. People would judge her, gossip about her. Paint her with the same tainted brushstrokes they smeared across me.
The thought of what she’d be subjected to had my voice emerging too sharp, the edges jagged and forceful. “I can’t go out with you.” Regret was instantaneous. My hands balled into fists inside my pockets.
Candace’s bright, hopeful expression died a thousand deaths.
“I just mean,” I blurted inelegantly, “I’m more of a homebody. Why don’t you come over? I’ll make you dinner.”
“Really?” she asked tentatively, the light creeping cautiously back into her expression.
“Yeah. I’d like to have you over.”
Her grin turned sly. “Can I see your garden?”
I laughed—probably sounding unhinged—as relief flooded my system. We could do this. If she came to my house, I wasn’t putting her reputation at risk. “Sure.You can see my garden. You can even harvest some sweet potatoes and beets to take home.”
“I can’t wait.”
When I realized we’d just been standing there staring at each other for a full thirty seconds, I straightened. “I’ll text you some menu options today. Then I’ll pick up groceries after work. Is six thirty okay?”
She nodded. “Sounds good.”
I swallowed uncomfortably but knew I needed to get this next part out. “I know this is new, and I know you’re leaving. I don’t have any expectations, Candace. I like you and want to spend time with you. But do you think we could keep this thing”—I motioned between us—“private for the time being? I don’t want to make things weird at work or with your family. Can it just be you and me?”
Candace's face stayed mostly the same, but I saw her swallow, the tendons in her neck going tight. Her warm smile became less defined, like a handout that had been photocopied one too many times. I hadn’t seen Candace’s copy-and-paste smile for weeks. Those initial brittle encounters had tapered off to genuine happiness during her time in Kirby Falls.
The fact that I’d put it on her face now made a hole open up in me.
But then her expression cleared like a summer day, and she said, chipper as a Girl Scout, “Of course. That makes sense. My mom would probably start planning our wedding if she knew.” She laughed at that, and it sounded so true and real that I started to doubt the disappointment and tension I’d witnessed just moments ago.
“Well, I’ll let you get to it,” Candace said.
