Hmm.
“He said he lived out on Cottonwood Road,” I added as we passed the house. I couldn’t see him in his car—he must be warming it up, or maybe he forgot something and ran back inside with the engine still running—but I smiled, knowing it was his car, his house. “His aunt Ro wants to do it up, apparently. He said it needs some work.”
“Ahhh,” he said, nodding slowly. “I bet it does, but those old farmhouses sure are beautiful.”
He was quiet then, looking over at me every few seconds, as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to.
“So he lives with his aunt, huh?”
“Yes.”
More silence, more sidelong glances.
“Do you have something you’d like to ask?”
He laughed, embarrassed. “Well, I just wanted to know how last night went, that’s all. You seemed to enjoy it, and you’re helping him again tonight...”
“I did enjoy it. I like cataloging and doing the inventory side of it. He showed me the computer system for enteringthe stock items. The software has a huge database. If you enter in the ISBN, it brings up all the information, and I would put in the stock amount so he knows how many copies he has of each book, and you can order more when it gets low, or if a customer requests a particular book.”
“That sounds great,” Dad said. “A bit similar to ours, but with books instead of medicine and equipment.”
I nodded. “He said I picked it up really fast.”
Dad grinned at me followed by more silence and more sidelong glances. “So,” he hedged as we slowed down to enter through the Jenkins’ gate. “Is he seeing anyone? Is he single?”
I shot him a look, heat crawling up my face. “That... How would I know? That’s not an appropriate thing to ask.”
“Sure it is,” he replied. “You can just ask in general conversation. Getting to know someone involves asking questions; otherwise, how are you expected to know? Like what his favorite book is, which movie did he like, where he lived before moving here, if he’s dating anyone, that kind of thing.”
I shook my head, feeling uneasy at the thought.
Because what if he is seeing someone? What if he does have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend?
And more importantly, why didn’t I think of that before?
He very likely would have a boyfriend or girlfriend. Of course he would.
“Oh.” I wiped my hands on my thighs, and my tummy ache was back.
Dad pulled the truck up to a stop at the side of the Jenkins’ house, just as Col Jenkins came outside.
“No time to dwell on those things now,” Dad said. “We’ve got work to do.”
Being busy helped—andwe were busy all day, which I’m sure Dad did on purpose—but every so often my mind would drift back to Winter and asking him if he was single, and my tummy would feel all blah again.
I didn’t like that feeling.
But not having a minute’s break all day gave me less time to think, and overthink, and get myself into a state. Making me focus on other things was the only way to stop me from focusing on Winter. Usually the more I tried to not think about something, the more my brain latched onto it. So Dad kept me busy with full lists of things to do all day long—appointments, rechecking stock numbers, ordering, and cleaning—right up until it was past closing time.
We were late for dinner and basically walked inside and sat at the dining table with Dad still recounting his day and asking my opinion on each case, not giving me a chance to think about anything else.
Until it was time to leave.
Mom fixed my coat at the door. “You have fun,” she said.
“I think Dad’s tired himself out today by trying to keep me occupied,” I whispered. “He’ll be asleep in his chair soon.”
Mom laughed and handed me my beanie. “I think so too.”
