“I’ll explain culinary in the car,” I tell Luke. “It’s a fancy word that means food.” I slip my phone from my pocket, juggling Cora, and hand Grace the device. “Do you mind putting the address in my GPS app? I’m still learning my way around town.”
She takes my phone and types in the address and then reaches to hand it back to me. After a moment’s hesitation, she says, “Should I…” She looks down at the touchscreen. “Should I put my number in? Just in case you get lost or we get separated?”
My pulse thunders, and I can’t explain the sudden lightness in my chest. She’s offering me her number? Maybe it is only because she thinks I’m a distracted dad, but whatever her reasons, I don’t hesitate to agree.
“That’d be great,” I say, trying to downplay the rush of excitement that twists my belly.
It occurs to me then that it would be really rude if I didn’t invite Carol to join us since, after all, it was her idea. “Miss Carol,” I say, nodding at her, “are you a pasta fan? I’d hate to leave you out of this lunch adventure. Can you join us?”
The woman leaves no doubt about her intentions when she vigorously shakes her head. “Oh no,” she says. “No, no, you two go. I’ve got to get home to make lunch for Earl.” Her eyes gleam, and she vigorously waves both hands at us like she’s shooing us on our way. “Enjoy, now. Gracie, make sure you call me later!”
Carol scurries off, leaving me alone with a very annoyed-looking Grace. But as soon as our eyes meet, she softens. “You’ll get used to them,” she says. “Small-town people are the best kind of people, but they will get all up in your business.”
Before we’re able to head out, Cora says, “Daddy, I have to go potty.”
I don’t have time to respond before Luke starts complaining. “Dad, I want pasta.”
I take the situation in hand before things devolve.
“Okay, kids, listen up.” I use my coach voice, trying to remember that I’m in a bookstore where people are reading and shopping. “First,” I say loudly, “we find Cora a potty. Then, lunch. Everybody got it? We have a plan, right? Are we cool?”
Luke nods, and Cora wriggles in my arms, which means I need to find a restroom before both Cora and I need a change of clothes.
I turn to Grace. “We’re going to be a few minutes. Meet you there?”
She nods. “Bathroom’s right there.” She points to a partially open door toward the back of the store.
I gather up my kids and give her a last look of thanks. I don’t know what else to say because even though she’s meeting us at the restaurant, walking away feels like I’m leaving something important behind.
* * *
By the timeeveryone has gone potty, me included, and I’ve made it to my truck, belted everyone in, and gotten settled, it’s probably been a solid half hour. Wherever Grace is, she’s probably impatient and questioning whether we bailed.
Once I’m secure in the truck, I pull out my phone and start the mapping app so I know how to get to Benito’s. Before I pull out of my parking spot, I search my contacts for Grace. I’m a little nervous when I can’t find anything under Grace. I start at the letter A and scan quickly through the list, hoping she didn’t change her mind and decide to bail. Then I see it.
A new contact, one I’ve never created. But the name she entered isn’t Grace. It’s Coffee.
I pull up the contact, check the GPS for a travel estimate, and type out a quick message.
Coffee, Kicks’ crew is on the way. ETA seven minutes.
I hit send and have a response back before I even put the car in reverse. It’s a whole message in just emojis—a little coffee cup, a sneaker, two baby faces, and a thumbs-up.
I chuckle and pull out of my parking spot, not at all surprised that a tattoo artist communicates with art. I can’t help but think of all the delicious dirty texts someone like her might send, but then I stop myself.
This isn’t a date. This is a meal. A kindness done by a woman who was harassed into joining me for lunch.
Grace isn’t interested in me. She doesn’t even know me, and I don’t know her. The woman needs to eat, and how could she refuse Carol’s none-too-subtle matchmaking? I’m sure she has no interest in a single father of two. I can’t believe I’m even wondering if she might.
As I travel the blissfully traffic-free roads of Star Falls, I let my mind wander to what kind of person a tattoo artist might want to date.
I can’t explain the way Grace’s boldness, her directness, and her colors draw me in, but as I park the truck in the parking lot of Benito’s, I’m feeling excited. I’m looking forward to walking into that restaurant and seeing her dark locks and her expressive face.
I take a deep breath and turn to face the kids. “Who’s hungry?” I bellow.
“Me!” Luke shouts back.
“Let me hear you, Cora. Are you hungry?”
