Page 10 of Protecting What Is Mine

“Might as well. Everyone else does,” she says over her shoulder as she heads off toward the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? We’ve got fresh lemonade.” Sam raises a brow. “It’s homemade, if that makes a difference.”

“Ooh. In this heat? I couldn’t think of anything better.” That’s not true. A beer would be better. A beer would be much better. But lemonade will do. “Thank you.”

I sit on the edge of the couch and try to think up appropriate topics of polite conversation while I wait for Mollie. Without making any progress, my thoughts are interrupted by the sight of the large smile worn by a little girl doing her best not to spill a massive glass of lemonade. Her eyes are laser focused on the sloshing liquid as she maneuvers the maze of furniture between the dining and living areas. “Here you go. Mommy went to check on Aunt Mollie and asked me to bring this to you.”

There’s something special about this girl. Something about her personality. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it’s magical. Even if Mollie hadn’t reminded me that I danced with her at Chet & Christy’s wedding, even if she hadn’t shared story after story about how sweet and thoughtful she is, this little gal would stand out as one of a kind. “Thank you,” I say as I take the glass. “You must be Vanessa.”

She nods and watches closely as I sip the lemonade. “Do you like it?” she asks.

I relax into the couch a little. “Mmm-hmm. Did you help make this?”

“Yep. Mommy and Aunt Mollie let me help make all kinds of things. Do you like cookies? I know how to make a bunch of different kinds.”

“Why yes. Yes, I do. What’s your favorite kind of cookie?”

Vanessa pauses. “Hmm. I like sugar and chocolate chip and peanut butter. But, my favorite is definitely snick-ner doo-ndle.”

I try to quell the chuckle rising from my gut, but her mispronunciation is too cute. “Which kind did you say?” I smile.

“Snick-ner doo-ndle.” Her brow furrows as frustration sets in. “No, wait. I always say it wrong. I meant to say snick-ner doodle.” She seems pleased with herself after that attempt.

I nod knowingly. “Oh yeah. I like those a lot too. They’re really good.”

A familiar voice calls from the hall. “Am I interrupting?” I turn to find Mollie standing at the edge of the room, absolutely dressed to kill. She wears a tight-fitting pink t-shirt, an old pair of cutoff jean shorts, and a pair of cowboy boots—a living, breathing dream of every red-blooded cowboy I’ve ever known.

I set my drink on the coffee table and take my hat from my knee before I stand, stumbling to find the right words. “Wow. Uh...you look…um…lovely.” I take a deep breath. “No. That doesn’t begin to do you justice. You look amazing.”

Mollie smiles. “Thanks. You look nice too.”

I glance down at what is basically my daily attire—albeit without the wrinkles, and probably less dirt and grease. Life as a mechanic means I pretty much live with grease caked on me somewhere. “Thanks. If you say so. You ready to go?”

“Yep. Whenever you are.”

I look to Vanessa. “Thank you again for the drink. Best lemonade I’ve had in ages.” I wink. “And thank you for keeping me company while I waited. I promise I’ll take really good care of your Aunt Mollie and I won’t keep her out too late, okay?”

Vanessa, who I expected to be pleased after being consulted on the situation, doesn’t react the way I anticipate. Instead, she looks up and bluntly asks, “After all the times you canceled before, where are you going for your date?”

The question catches me by surprise, but after a fleeting glance to Mollie, who is practically doubled over laughing, I stoop to eye level with the young girl to give her an honest answer. “Well…as you said, because of all the cancellations…and also, because of what a special woman your aunt is, I wanted to make sure this evening was special for her. So…I asked about all the things she likes to do and then we planned in as many of those things as we could find.”

Vanessa seems unphased by my explanation. “And?”

“Oh. Um…” I stutter.

Mollie stoops beside me. “Sweetheart, Hank’s taking me to the county fair. There’s all sorts of good food, and carnival rides, and a rodeo, all in one place.”

Vanessa looks back and forth between us as she considers Mollie’s words.

“And, if it’s super fun, maybe Mommy or I can take you before it’s gone.”

The serious look fades from the young girl’s face, replaced by the beaming smile from before. “I hope it is super fun. Promise you’ll tell me all about it when you get home?”

Mollie runs her index finger down the girl’s nose. “How about tomorrow? You better be in bed when I get home. But yes, I promise.”

* * *

I will be the first to admit I don’t have a lot of experience with serious relationships, but I have dated my share of girls. I don’t know how to explain it, but from the moment Mollie climbs into the cab of my truck, the evening feels different. Like I know it’s going to be memorable, before we even pull out of the driveway. How does a first date at a county fair translate into special? Beats me, but it does. And it is.

We walk arm in arm through the crowds. We people watch as moms and dads try their best to keep their children herded together. We enjoy roasted ears of corn and pork chop sandwiches and funnel cake. We ride the Ferris wheel and the Salt-and-Pepper-Shakers and the Tilt-A-Whirl. We watch countless young bucks test their mettle on wild broncos at the rodeo. While I’m with her, I forget about the heat, and the impatient, irritation of the fair workers trying to sell their wares doesn’t grate at me like it typically would. There isn’t a single awkward silence where one of us stumbles to find conversation.

---