“I will,” I say, acting like normal, and do my best not to run out of there before he says something else.
I wasn’t even involved. It was over before I even got there.
Second errand: Garden Center. That plant needs something better than an emergency cardboard box. The pots are near the right-hand side. Mr. Patton is on the phone when I walk in, which means I am in and out in four minutes flat, a personal record. I take the small miracle and don't question it.
I'm at Ethel's by eight-fifteen,coffee ordered, and doing my best not to listen to the origami club whisper loud enough for the entire place to hear about last night’s bar debacle. In the words of Sue Bennett, the retired librarian, “It was quite the spectacle. The way I hear it, he was three sheets to the wind and half a second away from a Clint Eastwood scene, pistols at dawn and everything.”
“Oh, posh,” Kathy, the high school principal, chimes in. “Though Penny would have made it into a Shakespearean play.” The women laughs, and I try to stay as nonexistent as I can.
Ethel passes me my coffee to go and bites her lip to keep herself from laughing. “He’s as thick as tar, you know that, right?” she says just over a whisper, as not to draw attention.
“Yeah, I wish he’d find another target.”
“He will…eventually.” She doesn’t look convinced, and neither am I.
“Thanks, Ethel.”
“Is Bo okay? I know he didn’t do anything, but I see him here on Mondays, and he’s a little high-strung sometimes, you know.”
“Yeah, he’s good, thanks for asking. He’s staying on the ranch today. He’s towned out.”
“I can see that.” She pats my hand, and I am out of there in ten minutes total.
I'm back on the sidewalk outside Ethel's with my coffee still warm in my hand, headed for the truck, when I hear him.
"Falon."
I groan, then paste a smile on my face. I know the voice, and trust me when I say I wanted nothing to do with him, especially now.
Kevin Bennett was coming from the pharmacy andjogged to catch up to me in another pressed button-down. When he got closer, his jog became a saunter.
"Hey." I keep my voice even. "Morning."
"Morning." He falls into step beside me. “Glad I ran into you,” he says, like he just happened to be there. Kevin Bennett has never done anything accidentally in his life.
"How are you doing? After last night."
"Fine." I keep moving. "Nothing to do with me."
"I heard differently." He matches my pace, easy and unhurried. Like he has all the time in the world and fully expects me to slow down for him. "I heard you showed up."
"I was meeting the girls. I was late." I glance at him sideways. "Kevin, I've got errands."
"I just want a minute."
"You've had a lot of minutes lately."
He doesn't flinch. That's the thing about Kevin. He doesn't flinch. He just recalibrates. "I know you're frustrated with me. I get it. But I want you to know that last night wasn't about you. I had too much to drink, and I said some things I shouldn't have."
I stop walking.
Not because I believe him. Because I want to look at him when I say this.
"Kevin. I told you clearly, twice, that I'm not interested in dating you. Last night, you were drunk in a bar, saying my name every other sentence. Those two things don't go together, and I think you know that."
"Because of Gates." He folds his arms in frustration.
"Yes, but not all of it." My voice stays flat. "It’s because of me, too."
