My attempt at recommending a wish did not achieve all I had hoped. If we are fortunate, she will find something substantive for me to do next.
Regards,
Grant
23
Sufficient Illumination
When I’d returned home last night, my folks were still up. I told them to take me off the schedule at the shop next week. I would be shadowing a landscaper instead.
All that was left to do was convince Scott.
I was dressed and ready when his text came in at six-thirty.
I need my truck
On my way over
As I drove onto the driveway at Scott’s house, I could see him waiting in the yard, dressed in his work clothes, boots, shades, and a sling. Behind him, the barns looked locked up. His crews must have already left for the morning.
I parked next to him and rolled down the window, conspicuously belted in with my hands aggressively clutching the wheel. “Where to?”
“Is your car still at the town park?”
“Yes.”
“Then scoot over. I’ll take you there to get your vehicle.”
“Some other time. I’m chauffeuring you today.”
He frowned. “I can drive.”
“I’m in possession of the truck.”
“Sara.” His face softened. “You have a job. You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
The completely ineffective stare-down lasted a few more seconds. He walked around to the passenger side and got in. “You are relentless.”
“I am.” I paused long enough to buckle his seatbelt for him. It was a fun task. I had to adjust the belt carefully around his shoulder and chest, which were undeniably amazing. His shirt was worn to an incredible softness, and he smelled like heaven.
“Thanks.” His voice was gruff.
“No problem.” I put the truck into gear. “Where are we going?”
After mentioning an address in my neighborhood, he said, “I need to check on how much progress my first crew has made on an installation. The maintenance crew is out on our regular accounts, so they’re good for now. I’ll want to do a drive-by this afternoon.”
“Will you check the B&B project?”
“Later this morning, though I hope the innkeepers don’t come out to talk to me. The last thing I need is for them to panic.”
“What’s happening there today?”
“A sub-contractor will be installing the cistern.” He gestured at a large, cedar-siding house just ahead with a truck and trailer at its curb. “There is our first stop.”
I slowed at the sign reading “Milton House 1890”, turned from the highway onto the B&B’s driveway, and traveled to the wide gravel parking area. The only other vehicles belonged to the subcontractors installing the cistern.
