Page 28 of Not My Finest Hour

“I think it’s a nice look. I definitely approve. Where is he taking you?”

“Since it’s not raining, we’re taking the ferry to Bainbridge Island to walk the shops and go out to eat.”

Fern nods approvingly. “That sounds nice. I’m sure you’ll have a good time.”

She leaves me to finish getting ready, and right as I’m slipping on my shoes, there’s a knock on the door. I assume it’s Wesley and rush to the door with my phone in hand, ready to go. I thrust the door open to reveal a male figure on the other side.

“Hey, Dahlia. Were you expecting someone?” Brett says.

“She’s got a date tonight,” Fern yells from the couch.

“Hey, Brett. Sorry, I thought you were my date who was supposed to be here by now.”

He smiles. “Don’t worry about it. You look nice tonight, by the way.”

I smile back at him. “Thank you.”

Could Brett be any nicer? He always seems to know what to say, and the compliment was most welcome. It gave my confidence a much-needed boost, and I’m smiling a little harder now. Fern really lucked out with him, and I think the two of them make a cute couple. Is Wesley Brett-level nice? That I don’t know yet, but so far so good.

Brett passes by me, and I’m about to shut the door when I see Wesley’s car pull up to the curb. I turn back toward Fern. “I don’t know what to do here. Should I close the door and pretend I didn’t see him, or do I meet him on the curb?”

Fern shoos me away. “Don’t wait. Go out there and meet him already.”

I follow her advice and head down the steps to where Wesley is parked on the street. With the car still running, he gets out and hurries around to my side to get my door for me.

“I was just about to come up to get you,” he says, seeming a little irritated that I didn’t wait for him.

I take my seat and let him settle into the driver’s seat before answering. “Sorry. Brett stopped by, and I thought it was you at the door, so I answered it. Then I saw you pulling up and decided to meet you at the curb so you wouldn’t have to walk up the steps. I was trying to do you a favor.”

Wesley’s expression softens as he straightens out the cuffs on his dress shirt. “It’s all right. In the future though, I like to do the chivalrous thing like coming up to the front door to get you, and opening your car door for you.”

Why does it feel like he’s scolding me? “Okay, but know that sometimes I’m capable of getting my own door too.”

“I know that. But tonight, I’m supposed to be treating you, and that means treating you like the princess you are.”

When he puts it like that, I guess that doesn’t sound so bad. “What time is the ferry crossing tonight?”

“It’s at seven. There’s nothing special happening on the island tonight, so arriving twenty minutes early should be enough time for us to make the sailing.”

With traffic giving us only a minimal slowdown, we manage to get to the ferry terminal with twenty minutes to spare like Wesley said. He pays the attendant for our fares, and we take our spots in line with the rest of the cars waiting to get across.

“Have you ever been on the ferry before?” he asks.

“A few times. My dad never really liked taking them though. He’d rather drive around to places instead of waiting on the ferry to take him across. It was probably cheaper that way too.”

“Even to places like Whidbey Island? He’d rather drive around to there?”

“When the wait times to get on the ferry are sometimes as long as it takes to drive around, can you blame him?”

Wesley scratches his chin in thought. “Huh. I see your point.”

“Do you take the ferry a lot?”

“I did when I was younger. My paternal grandparents lived on Vashon Island, so the only way to see them was by boat. We used to take the ferry, but then my dad ended up buying a boat, so we’d use our own boat to visit them.”

“Where would you put your boat? There can’t be that many places on that island to dock,” I say.

He stares at me, confusion in his expression. “What do you mean? We’d tie up to their dock,” he says like that answer should’ve been obvious to me.

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