Beau
I’ll pick you up.
My fingers moved automatically.
Carson
I can meet you.
Beau
Friday. 7. I’m picking you up.
I should have argued. Instead, I put my phone face down in the passenger seat. Then I picked it up again almost immediately.
Carson
Fine.
Beau sent a thumbs-up, ending the conversation.
I drove away from Sugar and Pine with the Harvest Festival paperwork sitting beside me and an actual date scheduled in a few days.
For the first few miles, I thought about clothes. Then I remembered every dress hanging untouched in the back of my closet and immediately decided jeans were perfectly acceptable.
After that came the practical questions.
Where were we going?
What did people even talk about on dates anymore?
Would Meme become unbearable when she found out?
Beneath all the ordinary nerves, the deeper fear returned. Beau noticed things. My limp. My moods. When I disappeared into my thoughts. He noticed people the way other mechanics noticed engines, picking up on tiny changes before anyone else realized something was wrong.
Eventually, he would notice enough to put all the pieces together.
I tightened my hands around the steering wheel.
Would he like what he saw?
Part of me wanted to believe that might not be a disaster. That was the part I trusted least. Still, when I turned onto the road toward Marigold Ranch, I caught myself smiling. I was excited to go on a date with Beau Jones.
Chapter
Sixteen
BEAU
By Friday afternoon, I had reread Carson’s last text enough times to qualify as embarrassing. Not because it said anything particularly interesting, but because it was exciting.
Carson
If you show up before seven Meme will invite you inside and you will never escape.
I’d looked at it three times while changing oil on a Silverado, once while arguing with a supplier about brake pads, and again five minutes ago while standing in the office pretending to finish paperwork.
Jax had noticed like any good older brother would. “Are you planning to marry your phone there?”