Page 25 of The Woman in the Garage

“I agree. Definitely something to be said for… organic,” I said, my gaze slipping to her lips for a second as the groups around us started to pack up and head out.

“You were right, by the way.”

“About what?”

“Everything from that place was amazing. I need to grab a menu to keep at my place. I cleaned out my uncle’s menu drawer when I learned that more than half of them were from places that shut down ages ago.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot of turnover here. But I know all the good places, if you want some recommendations. Or a local guide,” I added.

“I definitely need recommendations. And maybe even a guide. I pretty much only know my way to work, home, and the grocery store. I still haven’t even made it out to the beach yet. Or the river.”

“That’s a crime. Though it is probably still a little cold for the beach,” I said, shrugging out of my jacket when said cold made her shiver a bit as the breeze kicked up.

I wrapped it around her shoulders, the movement bringing our faces close. Our eyes locked. Her pupils dilated.

“Get a room,” a teen called as they walked past, making us break apart.

Dasha busied herself with shoving all the containers back in the basket, the moment gone.

“Everyone needs to clear out,” the cop who had been hanging out by his cruiser during the movie—there only for crowd control in case some tension broke out, called. “Park is closed. Take your things with you and head out.”

With no other choice, we got up, picked up our blanket, and started walking.

“This was a lot better than my initial plan to eat pizza alone in my place while putting a bunch of items up on a bunch offree sites, hoping someone would want to take Phil’s junk off my hands. Because you know what is insanely expensive?”

“What’s that?”

“Dumpster rentals. Plus, it’s, you know, bad for the environment to throw away a bunch of stuff if someone can salvage it. Though, I’m dubious that anyone wants one of the four singing fish plaques my uncle had up on the walls in several rooms.”

“Was your uncle a shopaholic or something?”

“I think the fish were gifts. But he definitely liked to have a lot of stuff around. Or just… didn’t want to figure out how to get rid of the old stuff. I would have loved it if he’d liked buying appliances, though. I think his toaster is from the ‘80s. I’m afraid to use it. This is me,” she said when we got to her car parked on the street.

“It’s all fixed up?”

“Hopefully. Thank you for a really nice night,” she said after unlocking her door. Manually. I was pretty sure she even had hand-crank windows too.

“Anytime,” I said as she slid my jacket off her shoulders and passed it to me, the honeysuckle heavy on the fabric.

It was my chance to offer to exchange numbers.

But just for fun, I was going to do what she liked best.

Keep it organic.

“I’ll see you in a few days,” I said, stepping back to let her open her door.

She offered me a smile as she slipped inside, then let me close her door as she turned over the engine.

“Thanks again,” she said after cranking down the window.

Then she was gone.

Leaving me standing there, wondering if I’d fucked up by not making a move.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dasha

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