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19
Harrison started getting up thirty minutes earlier than usual every morning.He used the time to drive to Gourmet Goods and get sweet tea and a pastry for Cass.The first several mornings, he’d simply left them on her front porch.She had no reason to be up and waiting for him by seven-thirty, and she’d told him via a late-night text that she was more of a night owl than an early bird.
He was the opposite, due to his work schedule, but they managed to see one another every day.Sometimes he simply stopped by her back patio on his therapy walk after work, and sometimes they had scheduled, planned dates.
One morning, a little over halfway through July, he pulled into her driveway with her cinnamon bun—no walnuts—and found her sitting on the front steps.He grinned at her as she did the same for him, and she opened the passenger door before he’d truly brought the truck to a stop.“I knew you were the one bringing me breakfast every day.”She climbed right on inside the cab and slammed the door.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.“I didn’t realize you didn’t know it was me.”
“I think Conrad found the stuff a couple of times.”
He handed her the light blue pastry bag, and she beamed like a star straight from heaven as she looked at him and then it.She unfolded the top and peered inside.“Oh, a cinnamon roll.”She sighed.“This is just what I need today.”
“Yeah?Something big going on?”
“I’m meeting with my first client here in South Carolina,” she said.
“Oh, right, yeah, you said that last night.”He’d had another boring zoning meeting, but he’d survived it in style by texting with Cass.“Lady Brunner.”
“I wish people would call meLady Haslam.”She spoke the last couple of words in a lower-pitched voice, adding in some unknown accent.
“I’ll call you that if you want.”He kicked a grin at her as she pulled her sticky cinnamon bun out of the bag.She took a big bite, which got the white frosting all over her face, and they both laughed.
He reached across her and opened the glove box to get out a napkin for her.“Are we still on for tonight?”He’d sniffed around and found the only dance happening within a hundred miles for people their age.They’d have to drive to Charleston to attend, but he’d bought the tickets a week ago.
“I’m good,” she said.“You’re the one who sometimes gets hung up at work.”
True.He had canceled on her a couple of times now, and she’d shown up at his house with boxes of pizza and cases of his favorite soda.She hadn’t said so out loud, but Harrison had gotten the impression that she didn’t care much what they did, as long as she got to see him and do it with him.
He wasn’t sure how to handle that.It felt like a lot of pressure, like he wasn’t the man she thought he was.Like he had to be better than he was, or that eventually, Cass would figure out that he was just…simple.He was a simple man, living a simple life.
“Not tonight,” he said.“And you need to wear something nice.We’re goin’ to Charleston.I’ll be here at five, not a minute later.”
“Charleston?”Her eyebrows went up.“Why are we going there?”
“It’s a surprise,” he said, smiling.“You’re always trying to ruin the surprises.”
“I am not.”
“I said to dress nice.”
“There are levels of nice, Harrison.”
He leaned his head back against the rest and closed his eyes.“Tell me about them, and I’ll tell you which one.”
“I’m assuming a dress or skirt.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured.
“So we’re to a three already,” she said.“Should it be a dress…or a skirt?”
“Either.”
“So not formal.”
“Nope.”
“So a three or a four, depending on the person,” she said.
