Page 19 of Really Truly Yours
I eye the man behind the wheel, doubting he could fold himself into my economy ride if it were the last car on earth. He is ridiculously tall and has the broadest shoulders, despite the leanest waist. His legs are long. His shorts tease at muscled thighs.
“It sure is hot today.” I cringe at my own words as they tumble out.
Grayson glances at me funny. “You okay?”
“Fine.” Just peachy.
His finger taps the AC fan up a notch. He snags a pair of aviator sunglasses slung onto the dash and pops them onto his face. “Which way?”
“Left at the end of the block, then all the way to the highway.”
Nodding, he does what I say.
Is he always so compliant? Men rarely are.
If anyone were to ask why I’m doing what I’m doing, I’d say it’s for Donny, but between me and the fencepost, I haven’t a clue why I’m riding through my sad hometown with a pro ball player on an errand for which I am completely superfluous.
In three minutes, we’re in the parking lot of Dan’s Hardware. See, I told him it was easy to find.
The mom and pop shop has been a fixture in Mineral Springs since before my birth. Like everything else in my town, the building shows its age and perhaps its state of mind—tired, bored, and no longer expecting anything to change any time soon.
Grayson waits for me next to a cracked parking berm at the front of the SUV and holds Dan’s door open for me to enter. He stays at my heel for several slow steps. I stop and turn. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Find the air conditioning units.”
He spreads his hands. “I don’t know where they are.”
“It’s not exactly a weekly purchase for me, you know?”
Frowning, his eyes make a sweep of the store. They must land on something promising. He adjusts course, this time taking the lead.
We find three options. Naturally, he goes for the biggest one. I suggest the Mama Bear option. “We don’t want to blast Donny flat out of the room.”
“Good thinking.” After locating the correct box, Grayson reaches, then freezes, a scowl rearranging his handsome features. “Is there someone to help around here?”
I move out to the main aisle and spy Dan himself puttering near the checkout counter. At least I think it’s Dan Hammonds. It’s been longer than I thought since I shopped here. What’s left of his hair is silver, and his spine has set in an unnatural angle. “I don’t think Dan is going to be much help.”
Grayson, not to be bothered with having to look down the aisle like mere mortals, merely rises onto his toes and finds Dan. His frown expands. “Let me ask if he has a dolly or something.”
Dan wheels one out of the storeroom, and Grayson wrestles the heavy box onto the handcart. Awkwardly, I must say. Surely, lifting the mid-sized AC is child’s play for a muscled-up beast like himself.
But at the open gate of the Range Rover, after whipping out a platinum credit card like it was a five-dollar bill, Grayson stares at the situation as if in quite the quandary.
“What’s the matter?”
His mouth puckers. “Nothing.” He lowers a seat to make room and slides the AC inside.
I rock the dolly backwards with my foot. “I’ll return this.”
He taps a button on the open gate. The vehicle beeps before it descends. “Thanks.”
Upon my return, he’s already got the engine humming. The atmosphere resounds with a palpable mood-shift. He rubs his neck, his shoulder. “There any place to eat around here?”
I squelch a snort. “The Dairy Barn.”
The face he makes is hilarious.