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“What’s so funny?” Grace asked, smiling too, because somehow she’d made it to Friday without cracking and rushing to see Michael.
“Nothing.” Her mom shook her head. “Just a funny video Uncle Logan sent me.”
“Show me.” Anything to take her mind off the fact it was Friday.
“I can’t. It’s…” Her mom widened her eyes, as though trying to think of a good excuse. “It’s rude.”
“Why is your brother sending you rude videos?”
Her mom blushed. “Okay, it’s not rude. It’s just personal. Anyway, stop changing the subject.”
“I’m not. We didn’t start on a subject.” Grace wanted to laugh at her mom’s expression. Whatever was on that video was obviously distracting her. And if it hadn’t been Friday – knockout day – maybe she would have cared more.
“We didn’t? Oh. Okay then. I just wanted to let you know I’ll pick you up at seven forChairs.”
“I’m not going toChairs.” She was waiting for Michael. And the last thing she needed was for the whole town to be asking her questions.
“Of course you are. Don’t forget to bring a sweater.”
“It’s a hundred degrees out there right now.” Grace frowned. Her mom really was distracted.
“Bug spray then. Seven.” Her mom lifted her hand. “I gotta go.”
“What if I get a better offer?” Grace called out after her.
“You won’t.”
Wasn’t that nice? Grace grabbed her bag and fluffed her hair, then checked her phone for a message from Michael.
But there was nothing.
There was still nothing from him at seven when her mom picked her up. She tried to hide her disappointment as she walked over to her mom’s car, sliding into the passenger seat. The day was ending and he hadn’t given her the knockout he’d promised.
“Dad not coming?” she asked.
“He’s finishing some work.” Her mom pulled out of her driveway. It was only a few minutes to get to the green field that bordered the creek the town was named after.
Despite the warm, muggy heat of the evening, there were people – and chairs – everywhere. She carried her mom’s chair to where her aunts were sitting. Mia smiled softly at Grace. “I’m so glad you came.”
She wanted to ask if Michael was there. But what if he wasn’t? The waiting was killing her. It was Friday, dammit, where was her knockout? Maybe he was going to make her wait for two weeks after all. “Thank you,” she said to Mia. “How are you?”
“Just fine, honey.”
“I’ll grab some lemonade,” she told them, mostly because she couldn’t stand around doing nothing right now. “Can I get you anything?”
They all shook their heads, then her aunt Van said something, and they all laughed. “Oh, I need to tell him she’s here,” Mia whispered as Grace walked away.
And she would have turned back, but she really was thirsty, and her aunts were all laughing again. It was aggravating. Trying not to stomp this time – because she wasn’t a kid – she walked over to the table where the town had piled their food and drinks, and helped herself to a glass of lemonade.
She was just finishing her drink when she heard the giggles start. Then she heard hooves. What was going on?
It was only when she turned to look behind her that she realized the crowd had parted.
Michael was riding into the field on the back of a horse, his brows dipped with concentration, his knuckles clenched as he clung onto the reins. Grace recognized the horse he was on. Arabella, her uncle's gentlest mare.
Somehow, he got Arabella to stop. She tried not to laugh at the intensity of his expression. His eyes caught hers and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
“What are you doing?” she asked him, walking over to pat Arabella’s mane. It was only up close that she saw how white Michael’s knuckles were as they gripped the leather reins.
