The kids have even been a little sulky, which has impacted my mood. The only one who flits around here like it’s an ordinary day is Vera Kay, who seems to be extra pleased with herself since her little stunt at the ballgame.
What in the world was she thinking? As nice a guy as Grey is, he’s not my type.
But your type wasn’t the one who asked you out. Remember?
Technically, neither did Grey, but let’s not split hairs. Especially the white, curly ones that got you in this mess in the first place. Speaking of the once-beloved traitor…
“All set to go for tonight?” Her hands wring together, a huge smile plastered on her innocent-looking face.
You don’t fool me anymore, old woman. “I guess…” I mumble, hoping the world might implode and save me and Grey both from what promises to be a disaster.
The clock strikes seven, signaling it’s time for this dreaded evening to proceed. As if on a timer itself, a big pickup truck pulls in front of Baked and Brewed, sealing my fate. “Cheer up, honey. Grey’s a good guy. He’ll be a perfect gentleman.” She leans in to whisper, yet doesn’t drop the volume of her voice. “Unless you suggest otherwise.”
Scott’s head, previously buried down past the counter for some odd reason, pops up, his cheeks flushed, and his newly adopted grouch mode on full-tilt. “Griffin, Clay. Let’s go gather the trash.”
The boys look at each other, obviously wondering why one of the last chores of the evening needed to be done two hours before quit time. Clay motions to the clock above. “Dad, it’s only—”
“I know what time it is,” Scott grouses, not sparing any of us a glance as he heads to the kitchen. “Just come and help me.”
The boys shrug and go after their dad. Harper sits quietly, pretending to sketch, but the pencil hasn’t touched the pad in over twenty minutes. Halle tries to peak over Millie’s shoulder while she’s writing, obviously looking for new words to learn. The rest of the kids are preoccupied, except Henry, who stares at his reflection in the window, lightly touching the noticeable scar above his lip as he does. Poor little guy.
“That dress looks great on you, honey,” she compliments as I turn my gaze to it, the dress in question being the one she picked out of my closet and brought with her. I had planned to wear my work clothes on this “non-date,” which wouldn’t do according to the world of Vera Kay and meddling great aunts everywhere.
Speaking of non-dates…
The door chime rings and a pair of clean boots walk through the door, carrying with it the next two or three hours of my life. Clad in a casual light blue button-down shirt and dark jeans, Grey, with his slicked-back hair, makes being handsome look nearly effortless.
“Hey, Baker bunch!” his jovial tone rings out in the shop.
As they walk back into the room, Griffin raises his hand to wave at his coach, earning him an elbow in the ribs from Clay. An angry exchange occurs between them without the first word being uttered, and Griffin lowers his hand. The look he gives Clay doesn’t bode well for later, though.
Everyone sits silently, except for Vera Kay, who takes to fussing over Grey, and Scott, who just returned from the kitchen area.
Peering up from his warm embrace with Vera Kay, Grey greets the man who’s had a bure in his saddle all week. “Scott! How’s it going, man?”
“Kasen.” His curt retort, entirely out of character as I’ve come to know him, disappoints me.
Grey’s eyebrows shoot up like he’s never heard Scott use his last name before. He clears his throat with one look around at the stony faces and icy atmosphere, which have absolutely nothing to do with the room temperature. “Uh, ready to go, Nova?”
Catching Harper’s eye, I subtly motion for her to meet me in the back. I offer Grey a friendly smile since those seem to be lacking this evening. “Let me go grab my purse. I’ll be right out.”
“Take your time. No rush,” he responds. Before turning back towards the front door, his eyes take in my attire. “Nice dress, by the way.” The genuine compliment, lacking any innuendo or suggestion, warms my heart. By all accounts, Grey Kasen seems to be the kind of person you’d want around when you’re having a bad day or feeling less than stellar.
Giving my thanks, I head towards the back, Harper joining me along the way. As we go through the door, I hear him say his goodbyes, which are met with silence once more except from—who else—Vera Kay. What’s with everyone giving him the cold shoulder?
Once we enter the kitchen, I address the obvious elephant in the room first. “What’s going on with everyone?”
“Do you have to go out with him?” Harper’s face takes on an indecipherable expression. “Can’t you just stay here with us?”
“We’re just hanging out tonight. There’s no date.” And I absolutely, unequivocally mean that. “I’ll swing back by once we finish up.”
Satisfaction takes hold after she mulls it over for a moment, leaving us to the task at hand. “Then, why did you want to see me?”
I give her a sly smirk. “Think you can help me sabotage this non-date and get me back here faster?”
She’s shocked at first but recovers with a perceptive grin. “I’d be more than happy to. What’d you have in mind?”
Quickly devising a plan we both agree upon, I snatch my purse from the coat rack on the way out. As I meander back through the shop and head towards the door, I wave goodnight, at least for now, to everyone—even the grumpy owner whose penetrating stare can’t be missed through the large shop window.
Grey opens the truck door for me, helping me inside like a consummate gentleman. As I get settled in, I notice a few specks of multiple colors clinging to his quasi-dry hair. “Grey?”
He gives me a quizzical look, holding the door open.
“Is that paint”—I stroke a few strands on top, ignoring the audience we have in the window—“in your hair?”
He scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush taking over his face. “Yeah, I had to help a friend...paint a wall today.” Before I could say anything else, he shuts the door quickly and walks around to the driver’s side. I have a sneaking suspicion that wasn't the full story. However, considering this is a non-date that will hopefully end in less than two hours, I let it go.
As Grey puts the vehicle in drive, I take a quick look at the shop through the tinted windows. Harper now stands where Scott once was, holding her thumb up, signaling it will be fine.
“Do you like country music?” Grey’s voice steals my attention away from the window as he quickly flips through the stations with multiple turns of the dial.
“Depends,” I tell him. “Know any stations that have some Patsy in the rotation?”
He chuckles, flipping it forward several times before settling on one where Johnny Cash sings about the burn of love. “My kind of girl.”
We ease on down Main Street Silverton, with Grey singing off-key with Johnny and me laughing at his goofy impression of the man in black. He may not be the type of guy I’m attracted to, but he sure does rank high on the list of people I’d love to befriend in Silverton.
As we stop at the edge of town where the unofficial tour begins, I sneak a peek at my watch, realizing that while this non-date may be short-lived, maybe we can get to know each other a little better.