Page 54 of Big Dill

“Oh…okay.” She doesn’t quite know what to do with that. “Thanks.”

“All right.” I give her a nudge. “Slide over.”

Jaxon hops out, and Jami climbs into his seat. She reaches around the side and fiddles with the seat adjustment. By the time she’s comfortable, she’s practically perched on top of the steering wheel.

“Make sure you put that back when you get home,” Jaxon jokes. “Otherwise we’ll be crushed against the steering wheel.”

“I’m not that short,” she shoots back. “Okay, well, maybe I am. I just don’t have giraffe legs like you two.”

Jaxon smirks. “You’re more like a corgi.”

“Hey!”

“Corgis are cute,” I assure her. “Tiny little things with huge personalities.”

“Tell that to the guy who hoisted me out of the cargo plane. I’m not sure he’d use the words ‘tiny little thing’.”

“Go on. I’m freezing out here.” Jaxon shuts the door, and Jami peers over the console for a second before putting the truck in reverse.

“You don’t have a backup camera?”

“Nope. You’re okay. You got this.”

She shoots me a side-eye, like she’s trying to figure out if I’m waiting for her to crash into something or if I actually believe in her.

She rests her arm on the backrest and glances out the rear window. For a second, I think she’s going to ask me to drive. I lay my hand on her arm and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s a big vehicle. Even I had trouble at first. But the worst thing you can hit tonight is a snowbank.”

“What about all those rogue caribous?” she jokes.

“Caribou.”

“That’s what I said.”

I chuckle. “You’re good, Jami.”

She nods, a bit more confident now, and eases out of the driveway. She grins at me as she shifts into drive.

“Not too bad?” I ask.

“Not too bad at all.”

She peers straight ahead, hands tight on the wheel as she steers the short distance to the social.

“Are you excited about tomorrow?” I ask.

“I can’t believe how many people signed up.” She flicks a glance at me. “You guys really did fill a need in this town.”

“I did my homework.”

“Smarter than you look,” she jokes.

“And just how do I look?”

She slows at the stop sign and turns to me. Under the dashboard light, if I’m not mistaken, I see…want.

“Lumber-snack,” she says and then snickers.