He started down the stairs, and when he got to the bottom, he turned back to me. “Also, a wedding planner will be contacting you soon.”
My stomach tightened at the thought of the wedding, but I shoved my nerves aside. “And yet, I don’t even have a ring.”
He smirked up at me. “Your grandma reminded me of something. You deserve a proposal, done the right way.”
Then he turned and sauntered toward his car, like we weren’t both running out of time.
31.Jada
Bryce was halfwayup the sidewalk to my grandma’s house when I walked out the front door wearing well-worn, paint-stained overalls and a plain white tee. At Glamma’s insistence, I’d accessorized with a red checkered headband to add some color.
He stopped in his tracks, taking me in with a small smile on his lips. “I love this look on you.”
As my stomach fluttered at the compliment, I replied, “You should have seen my grandma’s face when I told her this is what I was wearing for our date.” The pure look of horror had only been a prelude to her opinions.Why even bother changing out of your bartending clothes with an outfit like that,she’d blustered.
Bryce and I met on the sidewalk, and he moved alongside me to his truck.
“She didn’t approve?” he asked, holding the door open for me.
Moving past him, my shoulder brushed his strong chest, stirring goose bumps on my arm. I casually rubbed the spot asI said, “I’m pretty sure she sprinkled me with holy water and glitter when I wasn’t looking.”
He laughed at that. “Are you cured?”
“Just wet,” I retorted.
He blinked. “Wet.”
I blanched. “I mean. You know.” My cheeks were already getting hot.
His lips curved. “Do I?”
I playfully hit his shoulder. “Get outta here with that. Better yet, tell me what we’re doing?”
“Sure.” Still smiling, he shut the door and walked around to the driver’s side, looking fine as hell in casual clothes. When he got back in, he said, “I thought since we’ll be spending more time together, I could show you something I enjoy.”
My eyebrows perked up. I had guessed maybe a painting or pottery class, but Bryce didn’t seem the artistic type. “Tell me more.”
“Antique restoration is one of the only things I do for fun,” he said quickly, almost like he was shy about it. “I like to go to antique sales, estate sales, thrift stores, even drive around on big trash day and find diamonds buried in the rough. A lot of times, a piece has perfectly good bones, but it’s cast aside and forgotten because of a few chips and dings. It just takes a little time to make it shine again.”
“Do you have any pictures of your projects?” I asked as we pulled up to a stoplight. It sounded like a cool hobby.
Before the light turned green, he lifted his hips to grab his phone and went to his photos. “Pretty much all my photos are antiques.”
A man handing over his phone so easily? That was new to me. I looked at the screen, seeing the apps neatly labeled in different categories. The photo app came up easily, but the first photowasn’t of furniture... It was a boy—maybe thirteen or fourteen—in a football jersey.
“Who’s this cutie?” I asked him, turning the phone.
He glanced at it as he drove, a small smile forming on his lips. “My nephew Sammy. He’s playing varsity as a freshman.”
“Cute,” I said, turning to the next photo. This one showed a tall wooden console with richly colored stain and gleaming gold finishes. It stood in a decked-out woodshop, expensive-looking cabinets in the background. “This is one of your projects?” I asked him.
He glanced over for just a second. “Yeah, that’s the radio. I’m giving it to Dad for his birthday.”
I smiled at it, studying it closer. “It looks flawless.” Even zooming in to study the features a little closer didn’t reveal any imperfections.
“If you swipe back a couple, you should be able to see the original.”
I did, moving past a photo of a sunset over a farm and another picture of a little girl, her face covered in chocolate ice cream. When I found the original, I couldn’t believe it was the same radio player. “How did you get all the dents out?” I asked.
