Page 125 of Fire and Icing

“Flour? Our regular shipment? You wanted to know if it was coming in as it always does?”

“With strawberry season at its peak, we’ll be making more pies and … Yeah. I’m sure we’re covered. You just have a great night. Put all flour out of your mind.”

“As challenging as that sounds, I will set aside all thoughts of flour and focus on Dustin.”

Syd and I wrap up our closing routine and then I head home to clean up and change. Yes. I’m wearing the green dress. I have other dresses and skirts. I told him as much. He said that’s the one he wants to see again. Who am I to say no? Especially when a man like him is so easily pleased by something as small as what dress I’m wearing.

Dustin’s truck is next to the house when I pull up. My stomach does a happy flip. We’re definitely one of those couples who probably make everyone around us just a little sick of the way we can’t get enough of one another. How did we get here? I was so dead set against dating. Dead set againsthim. He persuaded me without even trying.

Gran’s in the kitchen when I walk through the front door.

“Hey, Sunshine! I’m in here!” she shouts.

“Hey, Gran. Are you going to the barn dance?”

“Is Jolene still beggin’?”

I laugh to myself and walk into the kitchen. “I imagine she is. Dolly never changed that line, so …”

“Well then, I’m going to the first barn dance of the summer. The day I miss a barn dance is the day I’m dancin’ with the good Lord himself. Otherwise, you’ll see me at the first barn danceevery year until then. Now, grab the biscuits out of the oven for me, would ya?”

I pull on oven mitts and take the skillet of biscuits out. “Gran, this is barely enough to feed ten people.”

“I know. I know. The first ten will have themselves a treat. The rest’ll just have to make do.”

“With what?”

She opens the fridge door and I laugh. All three shelves have been taken over by a jello mold, banana pudding, and a giant metal bowl of potato salad.

“Okay. I guess they’ll make do.”

“Well, you know, Big Darryl’s been there since dawn with his smoke trailer and spit, cookin’ up all kinds of meat. I’m just pitchin’ in with a few sides.”

“You pitched in, alright.”

Dustin emerges from the basement looking like I’ve never seen him look before. He’s wearing an army green button down cotton shirt. It looks like it’s been ironed. He’s tucked the shirt into some dark wash jeans that also look pressed. He’s wearing brown dress shoes and a belt to match, and his hair is fixed with some sort of product.

“Hey,” he says to me with that lingering glance he indulges in regularly now that we’re official.

Have I mentioned that actually dating Dustin is so much better than faking? Infinitely better. For one thing, he wasn’t kidding when he said he was affectionate. He makes his way across the kitchen to me. I feel like turning and running upstairs, fast.

“I just got off work! I’m a mess!” I protest.

“You don’t look like a mess to me.”

He glances at Gran as if he just realized we weren’t alone. “It smells delicious in here. What are you baking?”

“My famous biscuits. I just pulled a batch out of the oven. Sit over there at the dinette and I’ll butter one for you and drizzle some honey on it.”

“You better sit,” I advise Dustin. “She doesn’t just offer her biscuits to anyone. And these are warm.”

“Go on and join him,” Gran says. “And then you can go freshen up for your date.”

“How do you know about our date?” I foolishly ask.

“Everyone knows about your date. What else are we supposed to be talkin’ about?”

Gran takes two biscuits out of the pan and plates them. She loads them with butter and honey and sets the plate between us. Then she takes her other skillet out of the cupboard and fills it with dollops of cold batter out of the fridge.

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