“Okay,” I said, carefully putting the rock back in its place, and followed him out.
Dinner was lovely. I had been nervous, obviously, but Wayne and Vicky were just the nicest people. Wayne had an endless well of dad jokes, apparently, which Deacon found funny, if not a little embarrassing. Vicky had a sort of quiet patience and a gentle maternal air about her that I found comforting. So very much the opposite of my own mother, and Ro had always been like an older sister/best friend more than a mother figure. Ro and I weren’t entirely conventional, but we were family; she was my family.
And as I looked at Deacon, then at his parents, it was so obvious that they loved him unconditionally. I envied himfor that. That security, that knowing in your bones that you are accepted exactly as you are.
“So Winter,” Wayne said, and I had to wonder if I’d spaced out. “How are you finding Hartbridge?”
“Oh, I love it. It’s a wonderful little town. Everyone has been so welcoming, and it’s so picturesque. Like something out of a movie.”
“It is,” Vicky said. “And your store? How are you finding it?”
“Busy,” I replied. “I expect it to slow down after the holidays, of course. But as far as my dream of having my own cozy, small-town bookstore, it’s perfect.”
“He wants to start a book club,” Deacon said. “Meeting once a month to have cake and coffee and to talk about books.”
“That’s a great idea,” Wayne said.
I nodded. “Yes, several people are interested already.”
“I told him cake wasn’t a good idea,” Deacon added, “because of crumbs and greasy fingers on the merchandise.”
“Oh.” Vicky gave me a sorry a look.
I chuckled. “No, it’s fine. He was quite right. Cake wouldn’t be suitable. So perhaps something else. Themed cookies like the Christmas ones I bought from the diner? Or fun little cake pops. Something without cream frosting, anyway.” I smiled at Deacon. “Now if only I knew someone who was really good at organizing things to help me arrange it all.”
Deacon put his fork down and smiled. “You mean me?”
I grinned, nodding. “Yes, I do.”
I noticed then that Wayne was looking between us, and he studied me for a few beats, and I suddenly felt a little too scrutinized. “Sooo,” he began, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
Oh god.
I cleared my throat, trying not to fidget. “Yes?”
He stared at me, very seriously, and both Deacon and Vicky were watching him.
One second.
Two seconds.
“It’s very important,” Wayne said.
I tried to smile, but pretty sure it didn’t work. “Okay.”
“What’s your favorite dinosaur?”
I blinked.
Deacon snorted and Vicky sighed.
“Favorite dinosaur?” I asked. That wasnotwhat I’d been expecting.
Wayne nodded. “I think it says a lot about a person.”
“Dad was surprised I hadn’t asked you yet,” Deacon murmured.
“You don’t have to answer,” Vicky added with a defeated sigh, as if this conversation was one they’d had often. “Not everyone has a favorite dinosaur.”
