Page 60 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

“Here in Dillville.” Simon seems like a dream, but I know better than to point out that my B and B is across the street.

“We drove down for the evening.”

“Is Durango far?”

“Just over an hour. Practically nothing in Colorado time.”

I almost quip that this might get you five miles in LA traffic, but remember I’m not from California on this trip. Small town all the way.

Zachery walks along the line of booths, still at a good distance. I recognize his stance, his energy, even in his hat and shades. A young woman leans over her counter, holding up a ball for him to knock over pins. She’s into him.

I suppress my flash of annoyance and focus on Simon. “I grew up on a dairy farm that was miles from anything. I understand Colorado time.”

“I bet you do.”

We settle on me drinking the milkshake, and Simon tackling the root beer float. The Italian ice is good, but doesn’t fit. I’m amused that he indulged me.

“Was the popcorn the worst thing you’ve had here?” Simon asks.

“So far. But there’s a booth with chocolate-covered pickles that might give that popcorn a run for its money.”

He scrunches his nose in the cutest way possible. “I think I might skip that one.”

“Same.”

We sip our drinks, watching the people go by.

“You ever make up stories about strangers to pass the time?” he asks.

“Do I?” I can’t believe he’s asked this. “All the time!”

He leans in. “What about that elderly woman there? She looks fit to be tied with the man buying pickle lemonade from her.”

I glance at the stand. “Oh, I bet they were in love in high school.”

“But he ended up dating her older sister,” Simon adds.

“And when they broke up, she thought she would finally get her chance.”

“But he up and married a girl from another town!”

We both erupt into laughter.

“You’re good,” I tell him. And I mean it.

“So are you.”

We grin foolishly at each other. I sip my milkshake and realize when it makes a slurping sound that I’m done.

“The quartet is about to sing,” he says. “You want to go listen?”

“You bet I do!” We drop our cups into the trash and head toward the stage. We pass Zachery at his booth, but he doesn’t turn to look at us.

Simon waits until we’ve passed to say, “Looks like someone is trying to tempt your brother away from his girlfriend.”

“Figures.” I decide not to elaborate, as I don’t want to perpetuate the story that he’s my brother. This is going to bite me in the butt later.

I did not think this through. Zachery’s words from our rom-com watch party come back to haunt me:You really want to start a lifelong commitment on a lie?

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