Dylan smiled a little. "Why would that drive her nuts?"
"Well, I gave my oldest niece a harmonica the last time they came over. Her younger sister got a wooden flute that I carved. And now I'm making this rocking horse for my nephew, who's the baby of the bunch, and I'm going to make sure it squeaks a little."
Her eyes brightened and her smile widened. "Aren't you worried that she'll return the favor when you have kids of your own?"
It was Clay's turn to look down. "Maybe. I'm not sure I'll have any." He looked up. "I've been having trouble finding a woman I'd like to build a family with."
Dylan nodded. "I understand."
"Do you have any siblings?" Clay asked.
"No. I'm an only child and my parents passed away a few years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I miss them, but we weren't extremely close."
Clay couldn't imagine not being close to his parents. He saw his mother far more often than he saw his father, but he understood. He and his dad were a lot alike. They preferred their own company most of the time.
They were both silent for a moment.
"Wow, I really know how to kill a conversation," he grumbled.
Dylan smiled at him again and he wondered if he would ever get used to seeing it. Like her laugh, it was bright and unforgettable.
"Let's talk about something else," she suggested. "What do you like to do for fun?"
He shrugged. "The same thing I do for work—build stuff. And sometimes I like to go out in one of the state parks and hike and camp for a couple of days." Clay saw her wince and asked, "You don't like camping and hiking?" He sounded incredulous because he was. She was a wood nymph. They usually preferred nature to the city.
"Not really," she answered. When she saw his expression, she laughed again. "You guessed I'm a wood nymph, didn't you?"
"Yeah, your laugh kinda gave it away."
"I love trees and plants and small woodland creatures, but I also love indoor plumbing and comfortable mattresses. And not freezing half to death."
He started to point out that he would be happy to keep her warm if they went camping but thought better of it.
"And my Kindle," she continued.
"So, you not only work in a bookstore, you like to read," he stated.
She nodded. "More like my love of reading led me to a job in a bookstore. I'm one of the assistant managers."
"Have you ever thought of writing a book yourself?"
Dylan shook her head. "No way. I don't have stories running around in my head unless they're written by someone else. I love reading, but I don't have the desire to write."
Their food arrived and conversation continued to flow. Clay was surprised at how comfortable he was with her. She seemed to understand his humor and didn't get offended when he was too blunt. That had been a problem on a lot of his past dates and in his previous relationships. He never meant to sound like an asshole and, even when he tried not to, his words still managed to come out the wrong way.
Dylan seemed to appreciate his honesty without finding it hurtful.
As they finished, the waiter stopped by and asked if they wanted anything else. Dylan hesitated before asking Clay, "Want to split dessert with me?"
"Um, I'm a troll. We don't split food, but I'll eat what you don't after I eat my own."
“Why didn’t you say something when I ordered the crab dip?”
“Because I didn’t want to piss you off before I ate. It would ruin my appetite.”
