“Cal’s a nice guy,” Bryony said. “He already told me he’s only here until June. If he asks me out again, I’ll go. And if he doesn’t ask me, I’ll ask him.” As much as she would like that to be true, she knew she overstated her courage. Arguing with Mitch had never been her strong suit.
“Bry, Bry, Bry,” Mitch said. “You’re not hearing me. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what? From finally doing what I want to do, even if you don’t like it?” Her neck grew hot and sweaty.
Surprise exploded through the phone speaker. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you remember when we were young, and I wanted to date Buz Culpepper?”
“You mean the guy who drove the motorcycle and wore chains on his neck?” Mitch issued a guttural sound of disgust, and said with sarcasm, “He was a winner.”
“Buz started a software company. I saw an article about him online. He has a beautiful wife, grandchildren, a vacation home in Colorado, and his employees love him.”
“You’re kidding,” her brother said. “That guy? Unbelievable.”
“People are more than what you can see on the outside, Mitch. I have to go.” Bryony snapped shut her phone, the finality pitched too high, too sharp, over too soon. If only cells came with real receivers, the old-fashioned kind you could slam down for maximum effect.
The ringer sounded.
She flipped open the phone and held it to her ear, ready for open combat, though she shook inside. “What?”
“Yikes,” Cal said. “Do you have my name in your contact list? Because if you do, and if you knew it was me, I’d say by the tone of your voice you’re not feeling too great about having dinner with me.”
“I’m sorry.” Bryony rubbed her forehead. “I thought you were—oh never mind.”
“You okay?” Cal asked.
Remembering her conviction with Mitch, Bryony answered, “I’m glad you called. I enjoyed being with you.”
“Good to know,” Cal said. “Because Bailey insisted on a longer-than-usual walk, and we ended up here.”
“Here?” Bryony raised her head to see Cal peering in through the door. Bailey sat beside him, both of them drenched.
She closed her phone and dropped it into her purse before grabbing her keys and stepping to unlock the door, concern for both of them eclipsing her trepidation.
“Come in, come in!” she said.
“No,” Cal said. “Because the minute we step inside, he’ll shake, and you’ll end up with wet dog hair plastered ten feet in every direction. But if you’re ready to leave, and you could let us use a few towels, we could dry off and allow you to give us a ride home.”
“Of course!” She left the door open as she hurried to the store room for towels.
Though she had ended their dinner date stiff and unresponsive, he came back. Any tension from the argument with Mitch, any nervousness about noticing how much she liked Cal, melted in the warmth of knowing he liked her enough to come back.
“You’re okay with this?” Cal asked as he ran the towels over Bailey’s fur. “He might leave wet places and fur in your back seat.”
“Yes, that’s fine, not a problem,” she answered. Fur on the upholstery would remind her Cal had come back. She might never vacuum the back seat again.
Cal smiled up at her. “Is that your car?”
“Yes.” She pointed to the blue Malibu parked in front of the store. She hit the remote to unlock the doors, pulled her shawl over her head, and started to lead Cal and Bailey out the door.
Cal stopped. “Isn’t that your purse on the table over there?”
“Yes!” She stepped back to retrieve her purse and the bank deposit, led them out, and locked the door behind her. “I have to drop this off at the bank on the way. Do you mind?”
The rain slowed to a sprinkle.
“Do whatever you need to. We’re along for the ride.” Cal smirked. “After all, we are the ‘unwelcome surprise’ here.”
For the umpteenth time since meeting Cal, heat flooded Bryony’s cheeks. “Please forgive me,” she said. “I don’t know why I said that.”
They walked to the car, neither of them hurrying.
“It’s not the first time I’ve heard it,” Cal said. “That’s how my mother described me for the first ten years of my life.”
“Is that true?” Bryony asked.
“No, but it was a great one-liner.” Cal bumped her ever so lightly with his arm.
She wanted to bump him back with more oomph, but she settled for simply noticing the heat generated by his touch. It spread through her entire body, and she turned to him, a flower turning toward the sun, to say, “Tell me more about your mother.”
CAL CALLS AGAIN
After Bryony dropped them off, Cal went into the house and immediately called her. She answered after one ring.
“Are you still driving?” he asked. He wanted to hear her voice again. The short conversation in the car as Bryony drove him home upped both his interest and his confidence. For every answer he gave, she found another question to ask.
