She stumbled along as they shuffled across the peanut-shell covered floor.
“I wasn’t running. Just checking to see if you were behind me.” She clearly did her best attempt at recovery, sauntering deeper into the room.
“Beer?” he asked.
“Sure. I generally wait until after noon to hit the hard liquor.” She winked at him.
Flirted.
Well, looky there. Just a little wink, and she made him go all warm inside.
“I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” she continued as though she hadn’t just given him the one-eyed go-ahead to flirt back.
He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch her and headed toward the bar top. The place was decked out in neon beer signs, a small, empty stage splattered with God-knew-what, and a mechanical bull. He should get a mechanical bull for the flower shop. Now that would be kickass.
On that thought, he snagged their beers and headed back.
She nudged her bouquet to the side of the table and glanced around the room in an exaggerated motion. “So, this is our first not-a-date, huh?”
“What can I say? It’s where relationships go to die.” He took a pull of Bud.
A couple of the cowboys at the bar glanced in their direction.
She ran a fingertip around the rim of her mug. “Did you know, every morning when I wake up, I start a list of all the things I need to get done that day?”
“How’s that going for you?” He took the stool across from her.
A flick of her ponytail, and she hit him square with her brown eyes. “Today’s list said things like hand out posters, make cookies, balance my checkbook, touch base with my parents. It said nothing about pretty much anything that happened after I tried to hand out my first poster to you.” She tossed him a look that should’ve sliced him into individual bite-size pieces.
“If it makes you feel better, when I wake up in the morning, I just roll with life. After today, I’m seriously thinking about making some lists.” And drinking more beer.
She chuckled. “Maybe there’s a lesson in here for both of us.”
“You know what we should do?”
“I bet you’re going to tell me.”
“We should embrace the crazy of the day.” ’Cause fighting it wasn’t working out. “Play hooky.”
“Or maybe we don’t?” She sipped at her beer.
“Give me two good reasons you don’t want to do it.” His mother played this game when he was a kid and didn’t want to do something. It had always worked in her favor.
“One, I need to get back to work and, two, something tells me you’d go all in, we’d end up skydiving or bungee jumping, and, frankly, I don’t want to break my neck.” She counted the two reasons on her fingertips.
Heather was, apparently, quicker at the game than he’d ever been.
“You’re not going to break your neck.”
“Work.” She gestured to herHeather’s Cookie Co.polo shirt.
“Just remember Jase-and-Heather-Land could be our special, fun escape place.”
“Work,” she replied.
“Fine.” He didn’t push because, well, he liked his family jewels where they were and not rearranged by her toes.
“I tell you what. We can do something fun today. If you do something for me.”
