“You don’t know me,” he responds. “And there’s a blanket in the bag. We’re almost there.”
I start to argue but bite my tongue, pulling the blanket out and spreading it across my lap before focusing on the horizon. We’re in those last minutes of the day where everything looks a bit blue. A bit sleepy. The trees are bare, the moon is full.
“KD9JDF, do you read me?” Marv shouts from the back of the wagon. “I repeat, KD9JDF, do you read me?”
I look over my shoulder. One of Marv’s arms is overhead with the antenna, the other is holding the radio to his mouth.
My kids would love him; it catapults me to them. Wondering if they’re at the parade. If they’re having fun. If they miss me. If they even notice I’m not there.
“You’re quiet,” Jay says. “What’s in that chatty head?”
I tuck my chin to my shoulder, waiting for the emotions to pass. For the burn in my eyes and lump in my throat to dissolve.
“My kids,” I finally admit. “How strange this all feels. How untraditional.”
He chuckles. “Which part?”
From the back, Marv shouts, “Are you on Mars?”
I snort a laugh. “All of it.”
Jay shifts the reins between hands, studying me a split second before looking back at the horses.
I pick at a thread on the crocheted blanket.
“Tell me who you are,” he says. “And not your kids and ex-husband. Something else.”
He looks sincere; it’s startling.
“Okay.” I hesitate. “Well. I like the color green. And pancake houses. Not diners but places that specialize in pancakes. There’s about a million of them in Gatlinburg. And combined businesses that make no sense. Know what I mean?” He looks at me, mustache pulling up on one side. “Like, over in Ledger there’s that birding store and boxing gym. And the mechanic and notary. A peddling paradox.”
He chuckles.
“Okay, what else?” I tap a finger against my lips. “I haven’t dated since my separation over a year ago. My husband and I weren’t dating at the end. Or liking. Or touching. Or—” Jay looks at me, expectantly. “That was ... not good.” I rub a hand across my forehead, trying to swallow the bitter taste filling my mouth that comes with knowingly sharing a bed with a man who has screwed other women. “Sorry, you don’t care about that. I really like when I recognize characters in movies from other roles. I’m kind of an expert at that. I can just spot them—like,hey! I know that guy from that weird scene in that one movie!” I grin. “Your turn.”
He blinks several times.
“A difficult act to follow but prepare to have your mind blown. My favorite color is dark blue,” he says with mock seriousness. “I think it’s impressive more squirrels don’t get hit by cars. Someone needs to improve the durability of the hard-shelled taco. I appreciate a hazy IPA. My favorite time of day is sunrise.” He pauses, glances at me, then adds, “And I like the shape of your face.”
“The shape of my face?” My eyes narrow. “What does that mean?”
“It means what it means.”
“Who says that?” I huff, pressing the back of my hand to my apparently pleasantly shaped cheeks.Why am I warm?“That’s a ridiculous thing to say. I’ve never heard that before in my life.”
“It’s shaped like a heart.” He’s so calm it makes me more flustered. “And I like it.” He shrugs. “And just because you’ve never heard it doesn’t mean it’s ridiculous.”
I balk at him while opening and snapping my mouth closed.
Is he flirting with me?
Then:Do I want him to be flirting with me?
Judging by the echo of flutters in my belly at the comment and my body’s sharply fluctuating temperature in his presence, I’d say I do. That I’d like that.
Oh, God.
IwantJay to flirt with me. At once, I feel completely exposed. I tighten the blanket around me like some kind of armor and force my focus toward the horizon line.
