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Even though we rushed to make it before opening, Matt has no scheduled appointments until closer to noon.
“Want to come help me with your car?”
I jump when I suddenly hear him behind me.
“Are you sure you want me to help?”
“I wouldn’t mind the company.” He’s got a sly smile when he says, “Besides, we haven’t finished our game from this morning, and you still have other questions.”
I blush, remembering where we’d left off. “What about the shop?”
“It’ll be fine. I hardly ever get much traffic on Saturdays. Usually, it’s just appointments for people who couldn’t get in during the week because of work.”
“Then why’d we have to rush?” I’m slightly perturbed because I like my weekends more slow-moving and to savor my free time.
“Opening time is opening time.” He shrugs.
“Alright then,” I say, rolling my eyes and following him out. He’s one of those responsibly punctual people.
When we get to the bay, he’s already pulled my car in and popped the hood. I pull the stool out from in front of his computer and shimmy onto it.
“Fire away,” Matt says as he ducks down to fiddle with something under the hood.
“Now I feel pressured,” I mutter, trying to get comfortable.
“No pressure. Just lob an easy one at me.”
I think for a moment. “What’s your favorite color?” I try to infuse some sass into my voice to let him know I thought his question from earlier was a punt.
“Green. Especially all the greens in the spring when the trees first get their leaves, and the grass comes back after winter. There’re just so many shades.”
Never looking up, he works the whole time he speaks. Visualizing the spring he’s conjured, I watch the curve of his back that’s revealed around the edge of the hood. At some point while I’d been inside, he put on his coveralls.
Taking my silence as an opening, he asks, “What do you like to do in your free time?”
“Read. I like to cook, but I hate cooking for just one person, so I haven’t been doing as much.” In an overly boastful voice, I add, “I guess I might be considered an amateur hiker now, too, since I’ve been traipsing around the cabin’s property.” I joke and, in my usual sarcastic manner, feel the need to add, “I’m pretty boring.” Growing serious, I add, “I think I’d like dancing.”
Matt straightens out from under the hood of the car. “You’ve never been dancing?” I shake my head no, and he hums to himself. He doesn’t elaborate, but that look is back in his eyes, and my stomach flutters with awareness. He crosses over to the toolbox on the opposite side of the garage and gathers whatever he needs to keep working.
“What’s your favorite place in Door County?” I haven’t been able to explore the area that much since I moved here.
“Cave Point. It’s a county park, but if you hike up the coast, you can get into the state forest where there are fewer people, and it’s quieter. Depending on the tide, you can sit on the rocks or go cliff diving, but the water’s usually freezing.” He deposits his tools on a rolling worktable closer to the car. “It’s nice because it’s beautiful year-round, but the fall is especially pretty when all the trees are turning.”
Content with our easy company, I watch him work before I get distracted by a loud truck driving by outside. Frowning, I crane to see it through the garage door, but it’s gone already.
“You want to go tomorrow?” he asks suddenly.
“To the park?” My heart warms at the question, and for once in my life, I decide to be brave and just say what I’m thinking. “Like a date?”
He straightens from the car, some tool I can’t identify in his hands.
“Yeah, like a date.” He looks uncertain, as if he expects me to reject him.
Without hesitating, I say, “I’d like that.”
