Page 101 of Spurred On

“No, I can’t. Lisa whacks me with a spatula when I get too close. She calls me Hoover Lips.” His pout was adorable.

“Poor baby.” Sidney patted his arm. “We’ll get dessert at Bubba’s.”

“It won’t be the same,” he muttered, but she could tell he was teasing.

“Come on.” She tugged at him and he followed, waving at Hanna and Logan as they left.

It was a lovely day and a lovelier walk to Bubba’s. Of course, that delightful filter making everything so pleasant was probably caused by Cody’s arm around her. It felt natural and right and she gloried in it.

The restaurant was just finishing up their lunch rush, so it was no trouble finding a booth. Jesse, the waitress, hurried over with a smile and two menus. “How are you doing today?” she asked. And then she shot a commiserating look at Sidney. “Sorry about your dad, hon.”

“Thank you, Jesse,” she said. She should be used to the fact that everyone in town knew everyone’s business. But she’d forgotten.

No one in Dallas knew anything about her and didn’t care to.

It was sure nice to have one person after another stop by the table and ask after Henry Stevens. It almost made her want to cry. When Reverend Tillman came over and told her all the Methodists were praying for him, she couldn’t hold back her tears.

“Thank you,” she choked out.

“Your pa has always been a big part of the community,” he told her. “We’re all pulling for him.”

After he left, Sidney stared at Cody, unable to speak.

He reached across the table and took her hand. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “It’s just . . . just . . .”

“I know. I know.”

“It’s just so . . . nice.” It mortified her that it came out in a blubber. She wasn’t a blubberer. Surely she wasn’t. But he seemed to understand.

“You can’t be the kind of person your dad is and not have everyone in town love you.”

It was nice to know. Everyone in town loved her dad.

It made her . . . stronger somehow.

“It’s a nice town,” she said, bereft of other words, of anything more profound. With her education, she should be able to think of a word more evocative than nice, but somehow nice was more than enough.

He nodded and focused on the menu, probably sensing she was one sniff away from a nuclear meltdown. “What shall we have?”

“I need the Cobb salad,” she said.

He made a face. “You can’t have the Cobb salad.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m getting a burger and fries and you’ll make me feel like a pig if you sit there pecking at bird food.”

“It’s hardly bird food. There’s blue cheese and avocado. And bacon. Besides, I want the salad.”

“Well, okay,” he grumbled. “But I’m getting a burger.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”