I want to believe he’s warming up to me. If he truly couldn’t stand me, I don’t think he’d have allowed me to tag along into town with him.
Watching him, I try to picture his life five years ago, and I imagine him bringing his daughter here for pancakes on Saturday mornings. I imagine him rubbing Allison’s swollen feet after dinner each night as they watch the evening news together. I imagine them cruising the countryside in his pickup, laughing and singing along to vintage country songs with the windows down.
I bet he was a good man with a great life before he was blindsided by tragedy.
But he still deserves a happy ending.
“I want to be your friend,” I blurt out. If I can show him how easy it is to make new friends and let people in, maybe he’ll be able to find love again someday.
“Beg your pardon?” He glances up, confused.
“Let’s be friends.”
“That’s a weird thing to say.” He wipes his hands on a paper napkin.
“You’re right. It is.” I shrug. “But I mean it. I want to be your friend.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“I agree. It doesn’t work that way. Most people let friendship happen organically, but since you’re a little walled-off and we’re a little short on time, I figured we needed to jump start this friendship thing.”
He snickers, shaking his head.
“So … drive-in tonight then?” I lift one brow.
He’s quiet and contemplative, staring out the window toward the parking lot for a minute before leaning back in the booth.
“Yeah, I guess.” He reaches for his wallet, grabbing a couple bills and placing them on the table beneath a salt shaker. Taking his Stetson off the seat beside him, he places it back on his head. “But I’m not putting my arm around you.”
My hands lift in protest. “I’ll take what I can get. Friend.”
I swear I spot a flicker of a smirk once more, but it’s gone before I can be absolutely certain.
“Come on now. We’ve got a couple of stops to make before I put you back to work, employee.”
Chapter Seventeen
River
Allison was never into movies. She couldn’t stand the idea of sitting still for two straight hours, and that mentality was evident in every facet of her life. I’d never met anyone as busy as her, and looking back, it was almost as if she knew her time here would be cut short and she was trying to cram as much in as she possibly could.
Pulling into the Valley View Drive-In, I find a spot in the last row and back into it. As soon as I kill the engine, Leighton climbs out and starts setting up the chairs in the truck bed.
She also brought blankets—one for each of us—and a six pack of Coronas on ice.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a date and that Molly put her up to it.
“You excited for Galaxy Defenders Part Two?” she asks, taking a seat in the left chair and pulling a woolen blanket into her lap.
“I guess.” I take the spot beside her. “Never been big into superheroes.”
“Why, because they’re not realistic?” she asks.
“Something like that.” I’ve never been one to enjoy the idea of waiting around for someone else to come save me. I’d rather save myself, and if I can’t? Then I suppose those are the cards I’m dealt.
“That’s the whole point though.” She turns to me. “If superheroes had realistic superpowers, they wouldn’t be nearly as interesting or exciting. Who would want to see a movie about Captain Moneybags or Intelligence Man? Beauty, brains, and bank accounts are about as close to real superpowers as we’re ever going to get, and those are boring as hell.”
“I guess.”
The second the sun dips below the horizon, the previews begin to flash across the giant screen.
“We need popcorn.” Leighton eyes the growing line at the concession stand, but before I can offer to make the food run, she’s already jumping off the tailgate.
I suffer through far too many previews by the time she returns with a giant pail of golden kernels and an armful of candy.
“I could never eat like this in front of Grant,” she says, taking her chair. “He said it wasn’t ladylike. Don’t mind me while I shove my face full of peanut M&Ms and greasy popcorn.” Leighton passes the tub to me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told them extra butter.”
Just the way I like it.
The opening credits begin to play, and immediately there’s some villain doing something horrible to some poor defenseless creature until some superhero swoops in.
God, this is cheesy.
Glancing at Leighton from the corner of my vision, I watch her. She’s into it. Smiling. Eyes glued to the screen.
“Watch.” She elbows me, lips fighting a teasing grin. “You’re not watching. I’m going to quiz you after this. You need to know all their superpowers.”
I fight a smile. This girl has a smart mouth on her, and while I find her irritating ninety-seven percent of the time, the other three percent of the time, I kind of secretly enjoy her company.
And it’s been five long years since I’ve felt that way about anyone.
Chapter Eighteen
Leighton
“Nice setup.” I place my bag on a cognac leather sofa in Seth’s living-room-turned-man cave and take another look around. A pool table centers the space and an abundance of seating options are strategically placed around it. Neon bar lights hang on the walls beside vintage gas station signs and a dart board. “This is a bachelor pad if I ever saw one.”
My mind chooses this moment to begin comparing and contrasting Seth and River despite the fact that I’m not dating or even so much as thinking about dating either one of them. I suppose I find it interesting how different they are, and I find myself wondering if I were to stick around … if I were to want to date one of them … which one would I choose?
I don’t know.
Spending time with River last night at the movies was nice. He didn’t act like he was being tortured the entire time, and he let me tease him a bit without getting all huffy. He’s as guarded as Area 51, and yet I’m incredibly attracted to him. He intrigues me in a way that no one else ever has.
“I can’t tell if you actually like it or if you’re being facetious.” Seth winks and my heart does a little jump.
“No, no. I’m impressed. You put a lot of time and effort into this.” I take a seat at a high top that would normally look better in a bar setting but somehow works well in this space.
“When you live around here, you tend to have all the time in the world,” he says, shrugging.
“Everything just seems so curated and personal—in a good way.” I take another look around. “I’m starting to think that bar owner is the absolute most perfect profession for you.”
“I’d hope so.” Seth slides onto the seat next to me. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I got here. “I’m a people person. I like to be social. I guess it shows, huh?”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Our eyes lock for a second.
“You want a drink?” His brows lift, and he slides off the seat, placing his hand on my back and letting it linger.
“What do you have?”
He heads toward the kitchen, stopping in front of a glass front fridge. “Anything and everything.”
“White wine?” I ask.