“Pretty much, yeah. I grew up around the business. It’s what my dad did, too.”
Everly eases back against her chair, and it’s obvious I rattled her with my insecurity—an insecurity I didn’t have until almost exactly one year ago.Cut it out, Ox.I flash a smile. “The backhoe looked like such fun when I was sixteen, but Dad wouldn’t let my brother and me have jobs until we finished high school, and only during summers while we were in college.”
She asks where I went to school, the mood resetting as I talk. “What did you study?”
“Well, civil engineering would have made the most sense, but my brain isn’t very…mathy… so I wound up with a degree in business. Very general business. I loved history, but Dad thought that was a waste of good money and told me to study it on my own time. I already knew what I wanted to do, so I picked the simplest degree my parents found acceptable and got done as quick as I could. My major provided an overview of business-related fields without getting too deep into any one of them.” I laugh dryly. “My brother is the businessman in the family.”
Her head inclines, sending rich waves of hair sliding along her shoulder. A row of track lighting directly above us casts a shimmer onto the tresses. She squints, trying to see beyond the surface—which tells me my tone, lest I wondered, went off the rails along the way. “Do you enjoy your work?”
“Very much.”
Her smile breaks wide and slow. “Good. Loving what you do makes all the difference in the world, doesn’t it?”
“It does. I’m blessed to be able to do what I always wanted.” Truly. I count my blessings every—well, almost every—day.
Everly slides her finger along the rim of her mug. “What do you like to do for fun? In your free time?”
“Free time? What’s that?”
“Ha-ha. I assume you don’t work around the clock all the time.”
“True. Well, let’s see…” I stroke my chin. “I read. Listen to a lot of podcasts.”
She laughs.
“Hey, what’s so funny?”
“Nothing, just…that sounds like an answer I would give. And that my sisters would berate me for. They think I should be painting the town every evening.”
“Nothing beats a good book, am I right?”
Ridiculously pleased, she holds up her hand and we high-five over the café table.
“I mean, I’m not beyond a camping trip here or there or a game of pick-up football with friends, but the truth is, it doesn’t take much to entertain me.”
“What, no extreme sports? No mountain climbing or cliff diving?”
“Cliff diving?” I sputter.
She nods boldly, laugh-smiling…and yet there’s a flicker of waiting interest in my answer.
“Um, no, Everly. No diving—cliff, sky, or otherwise.”
She folds her arms and rests on the table. “Have you ever worn body paint to a football game?”
“Uh, that would also be a hard no. Not my style.”Huh?
She flicks pretend sweat from her forehead. “Whew. Good. Now we can proceed.”
Rubbing my jaw, I chuckle, digesting the exchange.
She straightens. “What?”
“That was an interesting choice of interview questions.”
“Inter…” Her eyes get big. Pucker. She sighs. “Well, we already discussed one dealbreaker in the car. I figured we should get the rest of them out of the way, too.”
Like I said, interesting list of questions.
