Page 127 of Fire and Icing

“Did you play a sport?”

“I actually played softball in high school.”

“Really? Wow.” He honestly seems impressed.

I tour him around the main streets of town, out to the water tower where we used to sneak up after Friday night football games. We never did anything crazy. We’d just climb to the top and look out around at the town.

“Wanna climb up there?” he asks.

“I think we’ve tested the strength of enough metal structures for one night.”

“Let’s go get dinner, then.” Dustin turns on the engine. But he doesn’t drive away from the old chopped up parking lot under the water tower. The sun is starting to set over the hills in the distance.

He turns in his seat and says, “Thank you for showing me around Waterford.”

“You’re welcome.” I feel suddenly shy.

“One day I hope I get to tour you around Marbella.”

“I’d love that.”

He reaches over and runs his fingers from my forehead down my temple and my cheek. I think he’s going to lean over and kissme, but he turns back to the steering wheel and puts the truck in reverse.

“Farm-to-table?” he says as we pull out onto the main road.

“Yep.”

“Is there an actual farm to this table, or a lot of farms?”

“It’s a community effort. All the farms and ranches contribute.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“We’ll have to take Mitzi there when she comes out.”

“Yeah?” He smiles. “You want to tour my sister around Waterford?”

“I mean … if she visits … we could.”

“I’d love that. She would too.”

He reaches over and puts his hand on my knee and gives it a squeeze. “You’re just full of surprises, Firecracker.”

I smile and place my hand over his. I just want to touch him. Like a live wire to a grounding pad. He flips his hand over and interlaces our fingers and we ride in silence all the way to the restaurant.

The Waterford Pantry is nearly empty on account of the dance at The Grange. The menu is limited tonight too. After we eat, we drive to The Grange, where nearly everyone in town is gathered for the first barn dance.

“I’ve never two-stepped,” Dustin confesses as we make our way in through the crowd, greeting people as we go.

“You’re kidding, right?” I say over the noise.

“It’s not exactly popular in California island culture. We dance, but it’s not very organized.”

I turn to face Dustin. “But you can dance?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

TheBoot Scootin’ Boogiecomes on.

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