Page 19 of Worth the Fight

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start.” I laugh.

“Can’t protect the children from the world’s tough reality all the time, now can we? It would be a disservice to them.” I shake my head all the while loving the humor lighting up his eyes. “So yes, no, I don’t ever eat, I’m still on that hunger strike . . . what’ll it be?”

Glancing around at the crumpled pieces of notebook paper strewn around me, and the nearly blank pages in front of me, I heave a silent sigh. If I take a break for a bit and get some fresh air, it isn’t as if it will impede my nonexistent creative process right now.

“Sure.”

His smile lights up his face and makes me feel good. At least I can make one person happy. “I’ll give you a minute to get ready.”

“Get ready?”

“It’s Farmers’ Market Thursday.”

It’s Thursday?

Wow. I guess the past few days filled with little sleep and even less creativity have melded together. I definitely need to get out.

“Oh.”

“Yes, and it’s four in the afternoon.” He shakes his head as if he’s worried about me. “You need to get out more.”

“I guess I do.” I roll my shoulders. “And you go there to get BLTs?”

“I do, yes, but Petunia passes on the sandwich.” He glances toward where she is rooting around. “We always go when I’m not on shift.”

“Your pig is your date?”

“No.” He lowers his voice. “She thinks she is, but we don’t want to hurt her feelings. Burnt bacon is never a good thing.”

And lucky for Petunia’s feelings, they’re fresh out of bacon at the BLT stand when we get there, so Grady and I opt for corn dogs and French fries to eat while we walk around.

“I finally got you out of the house,” he says as he holds out the container of fries to me.

“I’ve left before.”

“When?”

“When we had breakfast. Then, the other day, I went to the store, and last night, I went for a walk. I’ve ventured,” I say, feeling like an idiot having to admit that’s about all I’ve done since I’ve moved here.

“Living the high life, are we?” he teases, and the smile comes easily to my lips.

I glance at him, and he meets my eyes, a soft smile on his own face as we stroll through the crowded downtown district of Sunnyville with a pig walking begrudgingly on a leash between us.

Something stirs in my belly, and I push it away. The kind of stir full of equal parts giddy, hopeful, and lustful that you feel when you realize you would be more than okay if the man took an interest in you.

Not here. Not now. Not a rebound.

A rebound, Dylan? Like he’s even offering.

And if he were to, it isn’t as if I would even be in the right mindset to acquiesce. Sure, his smile warms my insides while the sight of his body heats between my thighs, but c’mon, after seeing glitter-dress girl, it’s very doubtful he’d want anything to do with me, the antithesis of everything she is.

I glance his way as he smiles at a little kid who stops to pet Petunia, and I shake my head. Someone would have to seriously have a screw loose not to think he’s attractive. Not to be attracted to him.

But then again, I probably have more than one screw loose since I’m standing here in the middle of a farmers’ market, debating whether I’d allow something to happen between us when that something is nonexistent in the first place.

“Do you know everyone here?” I ask as yet another person calls out his name and waves to him.

“Not hardly. But it helps that I’m Chief Malone’s son. Growing up, everyone wanted to know me because they had this notion that if they got in trouble, being my friend would have made it easier. Like my dad would’ve given them a free pass if they said they knew me. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that everyone loves Petunia.”