Page 119 of Fire and Icing

“Yeah. I don’t know if I warned you, but I like to move really slowly. I’m not very affectionate. You’ll barely know where I stand on anything. I’m super low-key. Sort of a blend-into-the-background type.”

“Right. I got all that from how you’ve been around me so far.”

“Good thing aloof guys are your type then,” I joke.

“Yeah. No.” She reaches out and this time she tugs me close. “I like you being who you are. You’re so full of life and joy. And you’re a risk taker. I admire that more than you’ll ever probably know. And you’re a surprisingly good listener. And you don’t judge people. You just take everyone as they are. I love watching how you are with people. And you make me laugh.”

We stare into one another’s eyes, and then she adds, “I like you a lot.”

“Wow.” I’m stunned. Outside of my own mother, I don’t think anyone has ever laid such an overwhelming string of compliments on me.

“I like you a lot too,” I say. I’d go into all the reasons, but it’s getting late and I don’t want it to feel like I’m complimenting her just because she said all those amazing things about me, so I lean in and kiss her instead.

When we separate, I say, “Since I seem to be the only one with a clock around here, I’m going to draw the line and suggest we get some sleep.”

Emberleigh glances at the clock over the stove. “Oh. Wow. Yeah. I need to get to sleep.”

We hug goodnight and I watch her as she walks through the kitchen, into the pass-through hallway, toward the front of the house. When I can’t see her anymore, I turn and head down the basement stairs to bed.

Saturday night rolls around and I’m nervous—like sweaty palms, can’t quite catch a breath, rambling thoughts, nervous. Usually I’m not nervous to get on stage and sing. I love it so much and get to do it so little. But tonight, Emberleigh is coming to the Fork & Fiddle to watch me, and she’s bringing friends. As far as everyone in town’s concerned, we’ve been dating since before the contest. She and I know it’s only been a week.

Everything’s changed.

I wake extra early to make sure I’m in the kitchen when she gets up for work. She usually grabs a coffee at the shop, but I’ve been making a pot to share with her at three-thirty every day. Then, after I walk her out to her car, I go back to bed until I have to wake up a few hours later. On my days at the station, I still pick up donuts. But on my day off, I stopped by the bakery and brought her lunch. And that night, I was home, waiting for her when she got off work. We ate dinner with her gran, who is beside herself. It’s so obvious she knows something has shifted between me and Emberleigh.

I put my water bottle next to the stool they put out for me on the stage. Just me and my guitar and the mic they amped for me.

The owner, Miles, greeted me when I arrived, but then he got busy. One of the employees is helping me test the sound system.

People come into the restaurant to get dinner. Some of them know I’m playing. A few probably just came out for a night of good food and time with friends. The room is one open space with a concrete floor, a free-standing hostess stand near the door, a bar that runs along the back of the room, a low stage up front, and picnic tables and smaller two-tops around the room. It’s cozy, something I’d picture in a small town—a place to gather and eat where the food’s good, but the company’s even better.

Miles comes over and asks me if I want something to eat before I go on and I turn him down. That’s when I know this is serious. I never turn down food.

“I’ll take you up on that after my set, though.”

“Sure thing, Dustin. Just let the cook know and she’ll whip you up whatever you like.”

There’s a ruckus at the hostess stand. Two loud male voices. I turn to see the three men in my crew standing in a semi-circle facing the hostess. Greyson’s like a wall, still and ominous. The other two are bantering with the restaurant employee.

“We have to sit in the front row,” Cody says.

“Come on, Ginny. Pull another table up there for us. We won’t be in the way,” Patrick begs the hostess.

“I can’t just go rearranging the room for y’all,” Ginny explains, hand on her hip.

“We’ll rearrange it, Ginny. You don’t have to do a thing,” Cody says.

Miles excuses himself and says, “Guys, what seems to be the matter?”

“Dustin’s our rookie. We can’t sit at a back table,” Patrick explains to Miles.

“We can sit wherever you want us,” Greyson says.

Patrick and Cody start to turn on Greyson. Miles says, “I’m sure we can get a table near the stage for you.”

“Just seat us at the picnic table that’s already there,” Cody suggests. “The one that says,Reserved.”

“That’s actually for Dustin’s guests.”

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