Kekoa chuckled. “That’s a nice way of looking at it.”
“Could we make this into a reading area?”
“Technically it belongs to the house next door.” Kekoa pointed to the little wooden house that sat just past the old dance studio. “Auntie Kua owns both, but the house has tenants. Doesn’t look like they use the space, though, so you could talk to them.”
“And Kua,” she said thoughtfully. “See what she says. Even if we put a fence down the middle, there’s plenty of space for a bench and some chairs, spots to read. Mia could do her schoolwork back here while I work the front desk.”
That’s a good dream, Kekoa said.
Flustered again, Laurie found an open space in the shade and sat down with her back to the wall. She opened the bag and pulled out two paper-wrapped sandwiches and held them out.
“Bacon and egg or pesto chicken?”
“Half and half?” he suggested.
She nodded and handed him one at random. He sat down, and they each unwrapped a sandwich.
“Do you drink coffee?” she asked.
Sure, he signed with his mouth full.
“Good.” She fished the glass bottle out of the bag. “I got you an iced coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee?” he guessed.
“Not lately. My nerves can’t take it. I got a bottle of cane juice.”
Delicious, he signed.
Every sign brought on another burst of amazement. So few people in her life had ever bothered to study ASL – and when they did, they learned maybe half a dozen signs before losing interest.
“You seriously just started?” she asked.
“Just started what?”
ASL,she signed.
Y-E-S, he signed back.
“Now you’re just showing off.”
Kekoa winked and signed,Maybe.
Laurie laughed.
“You have a great laugh.”
Immediately her mood plummeted. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t flirt.”
“I wasn’t–”
“Would you say that to another guy?” she asked, cutting him off.
He looked at her for a moment and then signed a reluctantNo.
