“Wow. Not-even-burgers. That sounds amazing.” Her eyes lit with humor. “Maybe we could get some not-even-fries with that.”
“They come with the whole not-even-a-meal.”
She laughed, and it did something to his insides.
“Okay,” she said, stopping next to her car. “Be here tomorrow after five with the cutouts, the paint, and two not-even-meals.” She looked around. “Where’s your truck?”
He thumbed to the far side of the lot. “Over there. The lot was full when I got here.”
“Then why did you let me keep talking while we walked this way?”
He looked at the ground, then peered up at her. “You heard my dad. Always walk a lady to her car.”
She nodded. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He backed away, watching her duck into the driver’s side of her car. As he walked across the lot, his thoughts starting spinning about tomorrow night. As soon as he’d pushed away any rising hopes about the work session—it was a work session, not a date—they’d come right back. Like those static Styrofoam peanuts. As soon as he’d get rid of one, five more turned up.
He put the cutout figures in the back of his truck and glanced toward Riley’s empty parking spot.
She’d laughed with him. She had a great laugh. The kind of laugh you wanted to keep bringing around.
He rolled his eyes. She’s just a friend, Mark.
Still, there had been moments . . .
Gah. Styrofoam peanuts.
The next day, Mark was sweeping up the loft space in the new storage building when he heard a voice bellow from below.
Gus strolled in. “And here we have a three-bedroom, single bath, split-level with a great view of Mark’s dad’s house and an irrigation ditch out back for the kids. No kitchen, but it has this great pulley system for when your in-laws come to visit, if you know what I’m saying, right, Nancy? And take a look at those beams, Carl. A man’s castle is nothing without exposed beams. Kind of hits you right in the tenders, am I right?”
Mark chuckled and brought the broom to the top of the stairs. “You trying to sell this place out from underneath us?” he asked.
“Somebody’s gotta make a living around here.” Gus, alone on the main floor, beamed up at him. “Your dad told me where I could find you.”
Mark came down the stairs. “I wish he’d said you could find me in Mexico.”
“You want to be in Mexico?”
“No, I want you to be in Mexico.” Mark smiled at his friend. Nate could be intense, but Gus had always been easy. Easy to talk to. Easy to mess with. And he gave as good as he got.
“I’ll take that as the good wish it was meant to be.”
“Suit yourself,” Mark said. “Can I get you anything? Tequila? Sombrero?”
“Ha. No, thanks. I haven’t talked to you in a while, and I found myself with some free time. Thought I’d come up and see how you’re doing. So . . . how’re you doing?”
“Good.”
“That’s the short answer,” Gus said.
“Long one’s the same.”
Gus studied him. Mark started sweeping the floor.
“You’re not wearing your hood.”
Did the whole world notice whether or not he wore his hood? “Sweatshirt got bulky under my winter coat.”
“Whatever. It’s a good move.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because, dude, one—you’re not a rap star. Two—the scars are fading. And three—you’re not freaking seventeen years old. I get it. I do. But this is a good move for you. So, good on you.”
Mark shook his head, debating on whether he wanted to put Gus in a choke hold or hoist him up with the pulleys.
Gus must have felt the vibe because he put his hands up in defense. “The hat looks great, though. Wear the hat. Own it. You know, until summer comes around ’cause then you’ll just look like one of them hipsters over in Leavenworth, and I’d have to kick the whoop out of ya.”
Mark grinned at the image of Gus trying to do that.
“Ah,” said Gus. “There’s that devilish scamp we used to follow around, hoping to catch his leftovers.”
“Knock it off. That never happened.”
“It did until Caylin came along.”
Mark glared at him, then rolled his eyes. Not worth it.
“Whatever, dude,” Gus said. “How about we go play some pool at Jake’s and then get dinner at Visconti’s. I’m jonesin’ for some pesce risotto.”
Mark went back to sweeping. “I can’t.”
“Why not? The kids are with Margot and Art. Heidi has her feet up, reading a book. I’ve got the minivan. We’re free and easy.”
Mark kept sweeping.
“Aren’t we?”
Mark stopped and looked at his friend. “I have something.”
“Something? No offense but since when do you ‘have something’?”
“You’re a real jerk, you know that?”
Gus shrugged. “And?”
“And I’m sorry I can’t hang tonight. I’ve got a . . . thing.” He stepped past Gus to put the broom away.
“Does this thing have a name?”
Mark couldn’t hide the slight pause in his step. The question had thrown him. He cringed.
Gus jumped on it. “It does, doesn’t it? Would it happen to have a woman’s name?”
Mark took a deep breath and blew it out. Gus was his friend; he didn’t deserve a punch in the face. “Look, it’s not what you’re thinking.”
To Mark’s frustration, Gus’s grin grew wider. “It’s that teacher from the bakery, isn’t it? The one we talked to at the bonfire.”
Mark frowned. “You talked to her at the bonfire?”
Gus’s eyes grew wide, and he exploded into a celebratory dance. “I knew it!”
Mark ran a hand over his face. “Look, she’s just helping me with something. A project. I’m trading her for some work on her house.” He shook his head even as Gus kept nodding his. “Please don’t make more of this than it is. It’s nothing.”
Gus stopped his awkward dance and scratched his head. “I
