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“I guess…” I frowned at the floor. “I like how he notices things. Little details others miss or gloss over, but to him, even the things that don’t seem important to most people are worth lingering over. He’s not wrapped up in the loud blaring things, the flashy things.”
I flipped the wrench through my fingers, twirling it like a pencil up and down each one. “When he’s like that,” I murmured softly, “I feel like he really sees who I am. Not just… what everyone else notices.”
Dad nodded carefully, leaning on his work bench. “And when do you see this?”
“Well… not often enough.”
He sighed and unzipped his work coveralls. “I think you know what you need to do, honey. You can’t force an engine to start if you’ve only got half the parts. Come on, let’s call it a night. I’m hungry.”
A weight shifted somewhere in my chest, and I felt like I could draw a fresh breath for the first time in weeks. Dad was right—I did know what I had to do. It wouldn’t make it any easier, but I’d know it was right. I didn’t need to ask for more time to think about it. I’d end things, clean and decisively, and then, I could move on.
“Okay. That’s it, then,” I said with a nod. I was even able to smile about it.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.” Dad kicked out of his coveralls and tossed them over the hook. “I didn’t like him much anyway.”
“Oh, come on, Dad,” I teased. “You hardly spent any time around him.”
“I spent enough. He doesn’t know how to work. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but that makes him a dud in my book.” He headed for the door into the house, and I trailed behind.
“And how would you know that?”
Dad turned around with a smug grin. “You don’t think I was just asking him to keep me company out here, do you? The guy didn’t even know how to set a ladder or put the socket on a wrench.”
“There are other kinds of work, you know.”
He winked. “But there’s only one kind of common sense. If you’re looking for some of that, maybe start a little closer to home.”
I crossed my arms and eyed him suspiciously. “And where is that?”
My dad’s mouth tugged sideways, and he chucked a thumb over his shoulder. “On up the road a ways. Quarter mile past the highway sign, take a right…”
My heart plunged into my feet, and my eyes widened. Had he guessed my little cowboy crush? I’d never told anyone! “W-Walker Ranch? I-I already said I wouldn’t date Luke again,” I stammered. “Wh…”
“I wasn’t talking about Luke.” Dad held the door for me and lumbered into the house, rubbing his hands and shivering when the warm air hit us. “Want spaghetti tonight? I’m in the mood for something hearty.”
“Wait, wait a second.” I ducked in front of him and stared him down. “Do you mean Dusty?”
“Yeah, you didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t know! Dusty?”
“Who else would it be? I guess there’s Evan, but he’s not the one who comes around randomly asking me if I need a hand with stuff.”
A shiver went down my spine. “Dusty does that?”
“A couple of times. Not for a while, though. I told you he helped me with the shocks on the hotrod. Also stopped by the shop, and he still texts me once in a while. Are you going to get out of my way so I can get to the pantry?”
“I thought you said it was Blake who helped you!”
Dad’s face went blank for a second, then broke into a chortle. “I guess I didn’t name him, did I? Well, you had your head full of this Austen character, so…”
“And you didn’t say anything? Dad! It’s been right in front of my face all along!”
He stepped around me to grab the stock pot and carried it to the sink. “What has?”
“Dusty Walker! My lands, I’ve been blind!”
Dad turned the faucet on and set the pot under it to fill, then he turned around. “Does that mean you’ll give the poor guy a chance?”
