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“This doesn’t feel like the most impressive spot for a picnic,” I noted.
“Way to rain on my parade, Jo. I even made a charcuterie, which was hard since Mariel’s doesn’t carry Havarti.”
I laughed, trucking through the grass in my boots, reeds brushing my legs. I wore another sundress—accessibility had become the primary directive in choosing attire lately—and with my eyes down so I didn’t trip, my field of vision was the bottoms of his jeans and boots, our hands connected, my boots, the hem of my dress.
The freeze-frame was too pretty, too perfect. One of those moments you know you’d remember when you were old and gray, looking off to the horizon from your rocking chair, thinking about all the days gone.
Inside the copse was a little patch of meadow, and in the middle of that, Grant set down the picnic basket and unfurled a blanket for us to sit on. I stretched out on my belly, rolling to my side so I could watch him unpack food and wine and plastic glasses.
“So this is where you wanted to bring me?”
He nodded. “Don’t be mad.”
“Why would I be mad? You even brought wine and frou-frou cheese to eat.”
His hands paused, and he moved to the wine. “We should drink this first.”
I frowned. “Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out.”
With a pop, the wine cork was loose. When it was glugged into a glass, he handed it to me. I looked at it skeptically.
“Drink it. Trust me.”
“So I need wine to survive whatever you’re about to do? You’re not going to try any butt stuff, are you? If so, you’re going to need to hand me that whole bottle.”
His laughter was loud, surprised. “I mean, I will if you want me to, but that’s not why I told you to drink up.”
I took a sip and winced at the tartness.
“Not a wine girl?”
“Haven’t had it much. We’re more the beer and whiskey type of crowd around here. Most bars only carry two labels—red and white.”
“Hope you’re planning on a selection at the fundraiser dinner. You know how snobby those Dallas people are,” he joked.
“I’ll let Poppy know, but she’s much more refined than I am. I’m sure she has it covered.”
“Do you have a date?”
“A date?”
“To the fundraiser.”
“I … well, I kind of assumed we’d go together.”
He flashed a smile at me and lifted his glass. “Good.”
“Will you still be here? Next week?”
Grant looked off and shrugged. “I think the Holseys are going to sign soon. They have the contract.”
“Oh,” I said in a tone that I hoped was neutral.
A small smile in my direction. “After that, I don’t know. I’d like to see the fundraiser, though. Especially now that I have a date.”
“We’ll have to get you some dress Wranglers.”
His face soured. “I’ll wear a suit, thanks.”
“Aw, come on. Texas black tie means your dressy shit kickers, pressed Wranglers, a sportscoat, and a bolo tie.”
This time he didn’t sour. He shuddered.
And I laughed. “Fine, wear your suit, city boy.” In the silence, my mind turned back to him leaving. “Are you excited to be back at home? In your own bed, with your own pillow?” I asked, being a good sport and all.
For a second, he thought about it. “I’ve seen a lot of places in my life, sought corners of the world looking for something, I don’t know what. But being here is …” He shook his head. “I’ve never been anywhere like this. I understand why you’re protective of it, Jo. I really do.”
“So we stack up to the Taj Mahal?” I joked, not knowing what else to say.
A chuckle. He took a sip of his drink. “This place isn’t grand—”
“Gee, thanks.”
His smile tilted. “It’s superior in other ways. It doesn’t have to try. It doesn’t have to build a palace to be special, it just is. I mean, you should still fix Main Street, but—ow!”
I let go of the twist I had on the back of his arm, smiling so he wouldn’t know how he’d moved me.
“I don’t know what it is. But I’ve felt more at home in a shed watching you save bees than I ever have wearing a suit in a boardroom, which is where I thought I belonged.”
“I’ve heard they’re not particularly cozy rooms.”
But he didn’t laugh. “Do you … do you get what I mean?”
So I didn’t make a joke. “I do.”
He hung his forearms on tented knees and looked off toward hills rolling off into the distance. “I feel different now than when I got here, and I can’t figure out why, exactly. Probably something to do with the jeans and boots you made me wear.”
“You like them.”
A smile flickered on his lips. “I kinda do. Don’t tell anybody.”
“Well, Lindenbach looks good on you, Mr. Stone.”
With an appreciative expression on his face, he said, “Thanks.”
