“No problem.” Carson saluted me with a fry. “Less crowded.”
I glanced around the brewery. This time, we were seated closer to the patio, but the music wasn’t too loud. The Friday-night dinner rush had thinned out to a few groups drinking near the bar, more on the patio, and a few other tables having food like us. The overall vibe was mellow and in keeping with perfect late-summer weather.
“True.” I took a moment to appreciate the band, which had several couples out on the dancefloor for a sultry ballad. “More dancers to watch too.”
“Go on.” Chuckling, Carson made a shooing gesture. “Try your luck?”
“Nah. I’d rather talk with you.” I grinned at him before second-guessing sharing that sentiment. The last thing I wanted was any weird tension between us. I hadn’t come out to him as pan yet, and as far as I knew, Carson was straight. I tried for a more casual tone. “You were a big help tonight.”
“Eh.” A hint of color rose in Carson’s cheeks. “You negotiated well.”
“Thanks.” Overall, I was pleased with the deal. Carson might dislike the praise, but he truly had been a big help.
He’d pointed out a couple of things on the car report worth closer inspection. Simply having someone along had also been nicer than killing time waiting on the finance folks alone. “It’s going to be weird, though, driving home in anything other than Sarge.”
“Just wait.” Carson grinned, more of that mischievousness he didn’t show often. “Get a little mud on the tires.”
“You’re a country song waiting to happen,” I shot back. Being able to bring out his playful side made me feel taller. Stronger. Triumphant like after a hard procedure. Carson might be a risk to my heart, but he sure was good for the ego. I gazed out at the patio and the night beyond. The sun was finally setting, the lasttendrils of color disappearing from the sky. “But not a bad idea. Nice, clear night. Not too cool. You up for a drive after dinner?”
“The canyon?” Carson didn’t disguise his eagerness.
Every kid who’d grown up in Lovelorn knew about Disappointment Canyon and the collection of state lands littered with skinny dirt roads perfect for teens bent on a fun escape. And perfect for a bit of off-roading while not going too far from home.
“Exactly what I was thinking.” The similar way in which we seemed to see the world was a pleasure I hadn’t had in years, a friendship connection where I didn’t have to waste time explaining or lobbying for my preferred outcome. “See some stars. Get a little dust. See what the truck can do on gravel.”
“I’m down.” Carson took the last bite of his burger. “And I’m paying.”
He signaled for the server to bring our check, and his enthusiasm fueled my own. Having a shiny new truck was more fun than I’d expected, not that I was planning on admitting that to Luna tomorrow. We made our way back to the truck, which still had that ultra-clean car dealership scent. It featured a touch screen and backup and hitch cams, novelties that added to my enjoyment.
“Truck needs a name,” Carson said as I headed out of Durango.
“Hmmm. Might help it feel more mine.” I mulled over the suggestion. “Big Red? Ronald?”
“Not a clown name.” Carson snorted. His full mouth pursed as he thought for a few minutes. “Cherry. Like the fruit.”
“That’s actually pretty perfect.” A tender place in my chest captured my next breath. I had to exhale before I could continue. “And Cherry was my mom’s name. She’d approve of the color and all the bells and whistles if not the make.”
“Good.” Carson nodded, the name apparently a done deal. “She drove a Ford?”
“Yep. One even older than dad’s work truck.” I smiled at the memory of the old blue Ford she’d inherited from my dad’s parents and the countless afternoons spent bouncing down some back road or another with her. “Mom could hitch a trailer, load feed, and cart a dozen chickens. She was pretty incredible. I miss her every day.”
“I’m sorry.” Carson managed to pack a great deal of sincerity into the simple words.
“When she got sick and had to go into Durango for dialysis on the regular, Dad bought her a used Ford sedan for better mileage.” My voice turned nostalgic at the memory of the two of them fretting over the purchase. My dad might have been cheap, but his care for my mom had outweighed his thrift. “She grumbled nonstop that she missed her truck.”
“I bet.” Carson leaned back in the seat. He was a true truck guy, all right. And both my parents would have liked him, a thought that made my chest pinch all over again. “Your folks got along?”
“Oh yeah.” I smiled at the chance to share. Carson likely had few, if any, memories of his own parents together. At least I had a few decades. “Theirs was a true love story. They met when he was on leave from basic training. She was an Oklahoma farm girl. Dad talked her into moving to Colorado when he processed out. He always said she was the perfect vet’s wife. Delivered more than a few foals with him.”
I conveniently left out how their compatible stoic natures had led to the late diagnosis of her kidney disease and how their mutual stubborn old-fashionedness could be maddening at times.
“My mom would approve.” Carson fiddled with the touch screen, finding all the stereo options.
“Yeah, Mom was friendly with your mom and your Aunt Georgia for sure. Everyone knew her and my dad. Curse and blessing of being the only vet around.”
“Small towns.” Carson used the same pragmatic tone I had.
“Truth.” I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel, which was slightly slippery from whatever cleaner the dealer had used. “The town rallied around my parents as the medical bills started to mount because of Mom’s kidney disease. Part of why I enlisted. Didn’t want to be one more bill.”
