Page 16 of What I Like About Sunday

“You want to take me out?” she softly asks. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I reply.

“Yes, I’d like to go out with you the next time I’m off, which is Saturday night.”

“Then it’s a date.”

* * *

The small glancesshe keeps giving me, as we come back to her place from the vet’s, has me wishing we weren’t at the beginning stages of a relationship, but I can be patient. Once we pull into her driveway, Dusty quickly undoes his seatbelt, then jumps out, before carefully getting the carrier out and heading up to Sunday’s porch.

“I was going to heat up some homemade spaghetti sauce I made, if you and Dusty would like to join me for dinner,” she announces. “I just have to cook the pasta, and I might have the fixings for a salad, too, because my mom hit up the grocery store for me the day I got called in for the extra shift when the kids all got sick, and she knows how much I like them.”

“Not too sure about Dusty eating a salad, but if you’re sure, we’d love to join you.”

Anything to stay a little longer,I think to myself. Because she’s captivated me for a long time now, and I’m grabbing onto this opportunity with both hands.

ChapterSeven

Sunday

Dusty keepsup a running commentary that ranges from the video game he’s currently playing, to how the two kittens are snuggled together sleeping in the cat tree that’s set up in my living room. He’s currently helping me cut up tomatoes and cucumbers for the salad, which he swears he’ll try.

“Dusty, give her a break, little man. You’re going to talk her ear off,” Jett says, grinning at his son.

“She doesn’t mind, Dad. Do you, Miss Sunday?” Dusty asks.

“No, sweetie, I don’t. And you can call me Sunday, if it’s alright with your dad.”

“Great! Um, can I watch your tv? Unless you have a game system?” he eagerly asks, making me laugh.

“No game systems here, unfortunately, but you’re welcome to turn on the tv. The remote’s on the end table.”

“Thank you,” he replies, hurrying out of the kitchen while Jett laughs.

“He’s liable to put on the sports channel or something like that on,” Jett warns.

“I don’t mind, Jett, I promise,” I reply, grinning at him. “What do you think I watch when I’m home?”

“No clue. The Hallmark Channel?” he teases.

“Oh, I definitely watch that when the Christmas movies come out. I guess I’ll set my DVR to record the new ones, so I don’t miss any of them. But I also like a few dramas, and sports wise, I follow a few college teams, and a few pro teams.”

“You do?” he asks.

“Yeah, I spent so much time watching high school football, it carried over when I went into the military. I got hooked on a couple of college teams then and my squad loyally watched them play whenever we were able to. Unless we were out on deployment, we would have the games on from the time the first scheduled game came on, until the last bit of discussion on ESPN,” I state, giggling. “Who knew, right?”

“Dusty’s going to fall in love with you,” he mutters, chuckling. “That kid is all about football. During the off-season, he catches old games on the tube, and watches them like they’re pre-game film or something.”

“Does he play?” I question, finishing up the salad and putting it into the fridge to chill while the water heats up for the pasta. I already have the sauce warming; I’ve found that making it, then waiting a day to actually eat it, causes all the flavors to blend better. The garlic toast is on a baking tray so I can pop it into the oven once the pasta is almost cooked.

“At the rec league level right now. I’m still debating whether or not to let him play in middle school.”

“Why?” I’m genuinely curious because I would think he’d want his son to play as early as possible.

“I don’t want him to burn out.”

“You didn’t,” I remind him. “In fact, you came back here to coach the team and I seem to recall you played when we were in middle school. Maybe you should ask him what he wants to do? I mean, I’m obviously not a parent, and you’re his dad, and know him best, but it seems to me if you talk to him about it, he’ll tell you.”

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