As predicted, less than a minute later, Birdie strolls out the front door in white shorts, a light blue V-neck, and her favorite sneakers. A floral bandana is wrapped around her head, and she’s got a canvas tote with a matching print slung over her shoulder.
I get out of the truck, bouquet of wildflowers in hand. My chest aches to close the distance between Birdie and me, but I force myself to wait for her to come to me. I don’t want to overwhelm her, though it’s nearly impossible when she’s so achingly beautiful, and I want nothing more than to wrap her in a hug.
Birdie lingers by the store entrance, scanning the parking lot. She checks her phone before sliding it back into her tote, then shields her eyes from the sun and scans the area again, pausing when her gaze lands on me.
She heads in my direction, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, each step measured.
I tip my hat, flashing her a grin. “Hey, there. Ready for our date?”
“What are you doing here?” she asks, coming to a stop in front of me. “Earl’s supposed to pick me up and should be here soon.”
She glances toward the road, like she’s expecting him to pull into the parking lot any second.
“Actually, he’s not on his way,” I tell her. “I canceled your ride.”
Birdie blinks at me. “Oh… darn it. I was looking forward to another punch so I’d be one ride closer to another freebie,” she teases, holding out a punch card.
The thing is roughly cut from cardstock, withBirdie’s Road to a Free Ridescrawled in messy handwriting across the top, ten uneven boxes drawn in two lines, and a cartoon taxi doodled in the corner. Earl must have made it himself to reward Birdie for riding with him so often. It’s a sweet gesture, but I still plan to take her where she needs to go from now on.
“How about you save your money, and I give you a free ride instead?” I wink, making her cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink.
“Someone’s in a giving mood tonight.” She laughs, her eyes drifting to the flowers I’m holding. “Who are those for?”
I hold them out. “They’re for you.”
“Wildflowers are my favorite.” She dips her head to inhale their sweet scent, tracing a fingertip over a bright red poppy. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“You deserve to be swept off your feet,” I say, mesmerized as her gaze meets mine. “Never settle for anything less.”
She takes the bouquet, a soft smile curving her lips. If a simple floral arrangement makes her this happy, I’ll bring her flowers after every shift.
“Why don’t we continue this conversation in the cab?” I suggest, nodding to my truck.
Several onlookers linger in the parking lot, watching as I usher Birdie to the vehicle. Beneath her delight over the flowers, I can sense she’s still worried about something, and I’d rather talk about it with her in private.
I open the passenger door and offer my hand. A spark of warmth ripples through me as she slips her hand into mine as I help her into the truck.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, settling into the seat.
“You’re welcome.”
Her eyes lift to mine, something unspoken passing between us before she releases my hand and tucks hers into her lap. I wonder if I misread the situation or if she’s just as nervous about our date as I am.
I shut the door and circle around to my side, satisfaction settling in my chest at the thought that I have the prettiest girl in town riding shotgun. When I climb inside the cab, Birdie stays silent, her eyes fixed straight ahead. She doesn’t even glance my way when I start the engine and pull out of the parking lot. I’m hit with a twinge of unease—she hasn’t asked where we’re headed or tried to make small talk. Usually, she’d be peppering me with questions by now.
I replay our brief exchange before she got in the truck over and over in my head, trying to figure out what I could have said or done to offend her. Now that I think about it, she never responded to my text this morning about our first lesson tonight, so maybe that’s part of why she’s so distant. I’d give anything for a manual on how to play it cool while fake dating the woman I’ve wanted for years.
The silence is deafening, and after another minute, I can’t take it anymore.
I look over at Birdie, who’s staring at the passing scenery. “You’re awfully quiet. Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
She shifts in her seat, fidgeting with the gold necklace at her throat. “It’s nothing.”
“You sure? It seems like something’s bothering you.”
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “Yeah… I’m fine.”
I might believe her if she didn’t look like she’d been struck by a live wire, nervous energy practically buzzing through her. She’s as pale as a sheet, looking like she’s plotting her escape from the moving vehicle.
