Relief.
He's not teasing anymore. He's just standing there, looking at the middle distance like he's working something out, and the tips of his ears have gone the faintest shade of pink.
"Ice cream's still on," he says finally, voice back to easy. He holds the passenger door open. "Salted caramel's a strange choice, but I'll allow it."
"You'llallowit."
"Well, chocolate is superior."
"You're insufferable."
"You're late." But he's smiling now, small and real.
He rounds the truck and drops into the driver's seat, and we pull out onto Main Street headed for home. I lean my head back and let the morning unspool behind me, Carl and the hinges, Gerald's tomatoes, Kevin and his button-down and hisfor now.
My phone buzzes. Millie is confirming that all five Jenkins horses checked out clean this morning. I text back a quick thank you and put the phone away.
We're barely past the diner when I hear the paper bag crinkle.
I don't even look over. "Bo."
"Hm?"
"Those are my fries."
A pause. Another crinkle. "They're communal fries."
"They are absolutely not communal fries."
"You bought extra."
I did buy extra. Specifically because of this. Because it's just like him, and it's just like always, and somewhere between the garden center and Kevin Bennett and the tips of Bo's ears going pink, I think I've gone and fallen a little further than I meant to.
I reach into the bag and steal a fry right out of his hand.
He laughs, and I have to look out the window so he doesn't see my face.
What Kevin doesn't understand and never will is thatthere's a difference between a man who circles and a man who simply makes himself known.
I wish I were like that.
Bo was relieved when I said I wasn’t dating Kevin. I saw it, and I've been pretending I don't feel it, but I do. I feel it every time he reaches past me for something and doesn't quite move away afterward. Every time his voice drops when it's just the two of us. Every time I catch him looking, neither of us says anything about it. It's not comfortable the way friendships are. It's the other thing. The restless, can't-quite-settle thing. The thing I feel right now, sitting in this truck, stealing his fries, trying very hard not to look at his hands on the wheel.
I think about that the whole drive home.
And I don't think about Kevin at all. All I can think about is Bo.
Chapter 11
Bar Trouble
Bo
It's just past nine-thirty when we finish the last bale.
Forty of them. Over 2,500 pounds total, and my shoulders are telling me about every single pound.
Oliver and Atlas had been underfoot the entire time, playing with each other and herding the cat. Dispatch took their nipping as her signal to sit in the hay loft and watch from there. Her tail was twitching every so often. She was such a princess.
