Again, I liked that.
A whole lot.
Nevertheless, when we got home, we found, even if it wasn’t all that late, everyone was in bed, and we headed that way too.
It sucked to say goodbye to him in the hall.
I might have sent a yearning glance his way before I walked through my bedroom door.
Actually, I was sure I did, considering the arrogant smile on his face when he saw it since he was standing outside his door waiting for me to go in mine.
Though, his arrogance was good. It wiped the yearning out of my mind and swept the vexation right in.
After we all went to brunch in town the next morning, Davi and Kenna took the rental car to go explore, Dad took his car to go home, and Dair slid behind the driver’s seat in mine because he decided we were spending our day together in Sedona.
I loved Sedona, even if it was more than an hour drive away, so I was all in.
However, as it seemed was us, during our day together, we shared cross words five times.
This started about two minutes after we were underway.
It began with Dair stating, “Ye barely have any petrol, lassie.”
“Okay. So let’s stop by a gas station.”
“Ye should never be this close to empty,” he decreed, his tone weighty.
It was the weight in his tone that made me turn to him and ask, “Why?”
“It’s dangerous. Ye should always keep it upward of half a tank because ye never know what’s going to happen.”
“Well, should I ever have the urge to rob a bank whereupon I find myself in a car chase with the police, I’ll remember your words when I run out of gas halfway to I-17.”
Now his tone was impatient. “What I mean is, there’s long stretches in this country with a good deal of nothing. Or ye could get busy and forget. And then you’d be stranded.”
“I’m sure it will come as no surprise when I tell you I don’t often motor around in desolate rural areas and my car doesn’t let me forget, Dair. A warning comes on that tells me precisely how many miles I have left before I have to gas up.”
“Ye see what I’m saying, though. Aye?”
“Your accent is thick, but I’m getting used to it, so I do understand you. I just don’t agree with you.”
He made a growly noise at that point, which was so scrumptious, it made the entire mildly annoying conversation totally worthwhile.
Our next exchange of words happened about two minutes later, at the gas pump.
When he stopped, he got out.
So did I, with my purse.
He scowled at me like getting out of the car was akin to me threatening world peace.
“I’m pumping,” he stated.
I wasn’t going to argue that. I hated pumping gas.
“I’m paying.”
“No, you’re not.”
