“That’s right.” Jordan stood, thanking Margot for their lunch.
“Yes,” Dillon said quickly. “You really outdid yourself today, Margot. Thanks.”
“But I told you I want to help,” Brandon protested.
“Oh.” Dillon nodded. “I’m sure Margot would love some help putting all these things away.” She smiled at Margot. “What a lot of work it must’ve been to bring all this out here for us. But it really was lovely to eat outside. Such a pretty day too.” She noticed her uneaten burger still on her plate. “In fact, I think I’ll take this with me for my afternoon snack.” She snatched it up, then grabbed Jordan’s arm. “Daylight’s burning, right?”
He chuckled as she tugged him away from the picnic site.
“Sorry about that.” As they hurried away, she released his arm.
“Sorry?”
“About Brandon.” She looked down at her partially eaten burger as they walked. Maybe her appetite was returning now that Brandon was behind them. Hopefully he was helping Margot to clear and carry.
“He appears to be a nice enough guy.” Jordan tossed her a sideways glance. “And he really seems to like you.”
“Well, appearances are deceiving. Trust me, Brandon is—”
“Hey, wait up!”
They both turned to see Brandon jogging toward them, waving with enthusiasm, his suit jacket flapping behind him.
“Oh, great,” she muttered.
“Margot gave me a reprieve on helping her,” Brandon announced. “So I’m free to help you guys with the trailer.”
Dillon pointed at him. “In that suit? Did you not hear that we’re painting?”
“That’s okay.” Brandon pulled off his jacket as they walked, and then removed his tie. “I’m not concerned.”
“What about your fancy shoes?” She pointed to his favorite Italian loafers. “They’re sure to be ruined.”
“Then I’ll take them off. It’s warm enough to go barefoot.”
“But you’ll—”
“Oh, you worry too much.” Brandon patted her on the head in a condescending way. “Lighten up, Dilly.”
She felt rage rising within her. “Do you even know how to paint?”
“How hard can it be?”
“Not that hard,” Jordan told him. “As long as you do it right.”
“It’s just an old trailer,” Brandon said lightly. “Does it even matter?”
“It matters to me,” Dillon said curtly. “And unless you can follow our directions and paint it right, I suggest you don’t bother to—”
“I’m not an idiot, Dilly. I can follow directions. Remember when you helped me build those IKEA cabinets for my condo? They turned out just fine. I can be handy when it’s necessary.”
Instead of challenging him, like she wanted, Dillon strode toward the barn. Knowing Brandon, he’d tire of painting before long. And, even though she hadn’t mentioned it, she was the one who’d finished putting those IKEA cabinets together. Because Brandon had gotten distracted by a new video game, claiming the cabinet project was boring. Hopefully, he’d get bored of trying to win her over as well. Her plan was to simply chill him out. But she would do it politely. Not for Brandon’s sake so much . . . but because she wasn’t eager for Jordan to perceive her as an angry old fishwife. Although that was exactly how she felt!
“Jordan, since you’re a more experienced painter, perhaps you could instruct Brandon on the basics.” She opened the door to her trailer. “I’m going to change into my paint-speckled tennis shoes.”
Inside the trailer, she looked down at her leftover hamburger. Closing the dinette curtains for privacy, she sat down and proceeded to slowly eat it. She had no desire to go back outside and risk losing her temper with Brandon. But finally, her burger was gone. Not wanting to look like a slacker, she put on her old shoes and, with no more excuses to remain inside, went out to discover that the guys were working on the door side of the trailer.
Wanting to distance herself from Brandon, she went to work on the rear end. Far enough to be out of sight, but close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation. To her surprise, it sounded as if Brandon was questioning Jordan’s credentials, asking about his college and career goals. Like it was any of Brandon’s business!
Jordan, not surprisingly, played himself down, acting as if he were merely a store clerk. Not unlike the way he’d portrayed his role to her when they’d first met. She’d been confused then, but now she found it amusing . . . and endearing. Jordan, unlike Brandon, was not full of himself.
“It’s been a good way to learn about tools and agriculture and all sorts of helpful things,” Jordan said. “And the people are great.”
“So is that your life goal?” Brandon asked. “To live in a small town and work in a hardware store?”
“It is for now. And maybe forever. Hard to say.”
“What about family?”
“Well, family is what brought me back here. My dad got sick and passed away, so I’ve been helping my mom. And my sister and her twins.”
“But no wife and kids of your own?”
Dillon stopped painting, trying to hear every word.
“Nope. Not yet.”
“But maybe someday?”
“God willing . . . and the creek don’t rise.” Jordan chuckled.
“Well, I used to think I’d never settle down,” Brandon said. “But I’m having second thoughts now.”
“So, is that why you’re here?” Jordan asked pointedly.
“Might be . . . guess we’ll see . . .”
For a long moment, neither guy said anything, but Dillon knew she couldn’t just bite her tongue on this. “Excuse me.” She stepped around the corner, waving a paintbrush at Brandon. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you just said. And if you think that there’s any hope for us, well, I’m sorry, but you might as well forget it.”
Brandon paused from painting. “I thought you’d act like this. At first, anyway. And I don’t even blame you for being mad at me. I deserve that. But I also know how you really feel about me. Deep down. Underneath your recent cover-up . . . pretending not to care. I know that you—”
“I don’t care and I wish you’d—”
“I honestly didn’t expect you to fall into my arms, Dilly.” His smile remained fixed and persistent. “The only reason I came here today was to make you understand my feelings for you haven’t changed. It’s just that I was pretty bad at sharing them before. But I’ve changed.”
“You’ve changed?” she studied him, trying to grasp this concept. If a skunk changed its stripes, wasn’t it still a stinker?
“I can see now that you were right about a lot of things. And I know that I took you for granted.”
“That’s for sure.” She wasn’t sure which was more irritating . . . that he had taken her for granted or that he was admitting it now. Now that it was too late.
Jordan laid his brush down. “Maybe I should excuse myself from this—”
“No.” Dillon firmly shook her head. “I am not going to let Brandon stop me from painting my trailer today.”