Instead, I follow him out of the room and concentrate on his last words.
Three days, Kaylee.
Why do I feel like the next three days will be the longest—and shortest—of my life?
Three
Dane
“Hey, Weston.” The door chimes behind me as it swings shut.
Weston Wild’s dog, the unofficial mascot of Wild Brothers’ Outdoor Adventures, barrels across the room and sits in front of me. I have no idea how he stops on a dime like that, but he does.
I reach down and rub the top of his head. “Hey, Maker. How are ya, buddy?”
He touches his nose to my leg in some weird dog-way of saying hello.
“I haven’t seen you around much.” Weston sets a large box on the counter. “How are things going?”
“Good. Just been busy. You know how it goes.”
“That I do.”
“I wanted to see if I could rent a kayak for the day,” I tell him. “I can get it back to you before dark.”
Weston raises a brow. “Where are you going kayaking?”
“Kissme Bay.”
His brow arches higher as he reaches into the box and pulls out a stack of navy-blue hats with the Wild Brother’s logo on them.
“You do know that they rent kayaks down there, right?” he asks.
I lean against the counter, petting the top of Maker’s head as he sniffs my leg. “I do. But I’d rather give you my money than them.”
“You’re good shit. You know that, Dane?”
I laugh. “I’d like to think so.”
He unpacks the rest of the gear—T-shirts, insulated mugs, and backpacks all with gold lettering—without saying another word. So, I mosey around the room and take in the fishing rods, hammocks, and tents. It’s a pretty cool setup.
I’ve been pretty decent about keeping myself busy and not overthinking this session with Kaylee—or the two that come after it. I kept the gym open late last night. I called my uncle in Michigan and caught up on the past six months of his life as soon as I got home. And then, just to be completely sure that I wouldn’t drive back into town and order a sandwich from Cherry Pie Pizza as an excuse to see her, I started reorganizing my garage at midnight.
Which is why I have to rent a kayak. Mine is buried under an assortment of tools, equipment, and boxes of random things that I felt compelled to store and not throw away over the past thirty-five years.
Staying busy helped me avoid Kaylee, but it did not stop me from thinking about her.
Kaylee Richards is a dime—a complete ten out of ten in every area. She’s beyond beautiful with a radiant smile and killer curves. Everyone in town loves her; I’ve never heard anyone say one bad thing about her or her daughter, Anna. She also has a heart of gold. When the fire department needed money for new gear, Cherry Pie Pizza gave five dollars toward every large pizza for a month to the cause. A few years ago, she set up a fundraiser with local businesses to raise money to fix the Cherry Falls Fountain, and when a local family had a loved one battling cancer a couple of months ago, she organized a meal train.
I’ve watched her operate for years from afar. I can pick her laughter out in a crowd. If I’m shopping at Cherry Street Market, I know if it’s her on the other side of the aisle by her perfume. I know she parks in the fourth parking spot next to the storage barn at the pizza shop.
It’s not that I want to notice all of this. I just do.
Kaylee is the whole package—brains, beauty, and a beautiful heart.
She’s also apparently divorced.
My stomach tightens.
Because that I didn’t know.
“Okay. You want to rent a one-person or two? I think all of our three-persons are gone through the weekend,” Weston says.
“I need a two-person,” I say, turning to face him. “Mine is under a pile of stuff at home.”
“I have three of those handy. Red, green, or blue, if color matters to you.” He laughs at something I don’t understand. “You wouldn’t believe the people who specify the color. Like, what’s it fucking matter?”
“You can give me whatever color you’d like. I’m easy.”
“Good. You get green. It’s the easiest to get to.” He writes something down on a sheet of paper. “How’s business going? I had a beer with Grayson Blake last week, and he was telling me that business is booming at Blake Brothers’ Auto Repair.”
“It’s good. We always see a little drop off after people give up on their New Year’s resolutions, but we have a pretty steady clientele. The hospital has been pushing their healthy lifestyles campaign, and that’s helped a lot.”
“I reckon it would.” He drops his pen and looks up at me. “So you’re not working today? Just kayaking and enjoying life a little?”