“We’ll see.” He turns and goes back to his truck, starting it up as Liza comes out with a pie in her hand.
“What happened?” She waves at Mick as he backs out in a hurry.
“Nothing. Let’s go.” I help her into the car, then wrack my brain about what I can possibly make for dinner.
When I get back into the car, I sit for a moment.
“Crane?”
“Yeah?”
“He’s gone now. We can go in and eat at the diner.”
I catch her trying to hide a laugh behind her hand.
“What? I can cook.” Now that’s a bald-faced lie.
“You were just doing a thousand-yard stare, and I’m pretty sure it’s because you have nothing to eat at your place.” She laughs. “Come on, let’s go in. … Wait.” She holds a finger up.
“What?”
“Just so you know. I’m keeping the pie.”
“That’s fine.” I lean over and kiss her. “I’ve already had dessert.”
14
LIZA
“Sorry,” I tell Eve as she drives us back to town. I’m clicking away on my phone, responding to a few emails.
Okay, I might be checking to see if Crane texted me, but he hasn’t. We’ve gotten into a bit of a routine with him taking me to work in the mornings. He comes inside every day and lets my mom and Eve pepper him questions. Lately, he’s even been asking some of his own. I’m not sure if he’s truly interested or just trying to be friendly. Either way, I adore that he’s making an effort with them. I think they’re enjoying it as well.
“He text you?”
“I was responding to an email about the stage that has to be put up.” It’s not a lie. I had responded to that email. Then I checked my text messages again. Maybe I checked them before I emailed, too. But who’s keeping track?
Gah, what is wrong with me? Why am I obsessing over this? We’d done our normal routine this morning, but I’d taken the afternoon off to go into the city with Eve. Cora and Libby are watching over the library for me. They’re two seniors from the high school that always help out when I need spots filled.
“Liza, I know you better than you know yourself.”
“Fine,” I huff. “He hasn’t texted me. Not a single message all afternoon.” I drop my phone and fold my arms over my chest. I know I’m pouting, but I don’t care. Only Eve can see me.
“Is there something more going on? He’s probably busy working.”
“Whose side are you on?” I glare at her.
“Fuck that motherfucker. Let's slash his tires.” I burst into laughter. She totally would do something like that if I asked her. “After he sees that dress you got for the bachelorette auction, you’ll never be free of that man.”
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that.” I glance to the back seat where the garment bag containing the dress is hanging.
“You’re going to bring that money in. One look at you in that dress, and the men will be emptying their pockets.” She gets an evil smirk on her face.
“Funny how you hated all the dresses when it came to picking one out for yourself. I don’t care if it's in jeans, you’re getting up on that stage too. This is all your doing.”
“I have some dresses stuffed in the back of my closet from when I did volunteer campaign crap in college.” She does dress nice every day for work in slacks and a blouse. “So? Are you going to tell me why you’re on edge?”
“I’m not on edge.”