Page 2 of Pitcher Perfect

I laughed. I might not have the guts to initiate, but I could seize an opening. “Let’s see them in action.”

He smiled broadly then snagged a nearby tester notepad. He ripped off the top page and gracefully wrote on the pad, someone clearly comfortable using the fountain pen. He held up the pad where he’d written “citizen citation for canine fecal infraction” in each of the two inks.

The laughter bubbled out of me. “Do citizens only have citation power or can you arrest as well?”

“I fear that if I go the arrest route, I might end up with custody of the dog. Then the crap would become my issue.”

“Fair enough.” I pointed to the second one. “I think the brown is fitting for the situation. The blue one seems better for a resignation letter to your boss who earnestly uses the word ‘synergy.’”

His hazel eyes sparkled as he laughed. “The green might be good for passive-aggressive notes to your roommate when they keep eating your eggs.”

“Egg-stealing bastard. The purple would work when RSVPing ‘Hell no’ on a wedding invitation for your ex-boyfriend’s upcoming nuptials only months after he left you because he couldn’t be tied down.”

He blinked at me. “That’s oddly specific,” he said with curiosity.

Thatexactsituation hadn’t happened to me. More like I’d had a couple of ex-boyfriends who left me for “not being available” then married the person they dated after me.

“I haven’t had that happen with one of my ex-boyfriends, but I’ve got some stories.” He gave me a meaningful look.

Oh.Oh. Okay. Cool. Yeah.Boyfriends. Check.

“I love a good story.” I tried to summon Tyler as I grasped for a flirty response. “You know what else I love? These notebooks.”Smooth, Austin. Real smooth. It’s amazing you’re not drowning in dick with game like this.

Instead of rolling his eyes—which would have been well deserved—he offered an endearing smile. “Are you an analog guy?”

“Paper is my go-to for keeping track of things, taking notes, stuff like that, but I still use Google Calendar. If paper could give me push notifications, I would be pure analog.”

“Same! I never meet anyone who gets that. People either think paper is too fragile or anything digital is the devil. There’s something about holding a pen and putting my thoughts down that unlocks something I can’t do with a keyboard.”

“Exactly. One of my buddies keeps trying to convince me to use an iPad and Apple Pencil so my notes are at least stored digitally while letting me handwrite. I like the feel of a notebook and easily flipping through the pages too much for that. I take pictures of the pages I need to keep, which works well for me,” I said.

His smile grew. “I do the same thing. I have an album on my phone for them.”

We fell into an easy conversation about our favorite notebooks and shared horror stories about how we’d damaged some over the years before we’d begun our own digital archiving methods. Nerding out with someone over my hobby was fun.

His phone rang, and he frowned. “Sorry. I need to take this. Work call.”

“Of course.” I waved him off and turned back to select a notebook. I did my best not to eavesdrop on his conversation. I caught some mentions of food and a delayed delivery. What a pain. We’d had a delayed delivery on some of our grain, and it had set back my carefully constructed schedule for days.

I took my time selecting a notebook in case he wanted to pick up the conversation when he was done, but after a few minutes, I felt like an idiot loitering and hoping to talk to a stranger for a bit longer. He moved over to a far corner as his voice grew a bit heated. I was making things awkward by stalling. Then again, he could’ve left the store to take his call if he wasn’t hoping to talk to me again.

I promised myself I would ask for his number when he hung up. If I were in Portland solo, I would’ve asked him to get a drink with me, but there was no way in hell I would subject him to the hurricane that was the Tap That Brewery owners.

I debated what to say and settled on, “Can you test this notebook for me by writing your phone number?” After I’d practiced it a few times in my head until it seemed only partially awkward, the chime over the door tinkled. I turned, expecting him to have walked out, but saw Ethan dropping his hood instead.

Ethan smiled and shook his head. “I knew I’d have to drag you out of here to get to dinner on time.”

I groaned internally at the walking cockblock with a big, goofy smile.

“Want to walk together to meet Ty and Dom?”

I looked between the guy I’d been talking to and Ethan. “Uh, sure.”

Ethan followed my line of sight. “Ooh, he’s cute. You should talk to him.”

“I was,” I mumbled under my breath too low for Ethan to catch.

“How many drinks do you think they managed in the last hour?” Ethan asked as I grabbed a notebook with stripes of green and brown that reminded me of the guy’s hazel eyes and slowly made my way to the checkout.I’m pathetic.

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