"Thanks," he said gruffly, obviously touched at my words.
Our conversation took a more lighthearted turn from then on. I busted a gut when I found out he was a CW nut like me as we compared our favorite shows and characters.
"Don't get me wrong, the books are better, but I think the producers are doing a good job keeping the show interesting," he said as I teased him about liking Vampire Diaries.
"I think it's hilarious you read young adult books," I squeaked, holding back a laugh.
"What? They're great books," he defended himself.
"Hey, I'm not judging you. I just don't think I've ever met a guy who reads the same kind of books I read."
"Well, I didn't start off that way, but I got sucked in by Harry Potter when Mason was twelve, and I guess I've been reading similar stuff ever since. I try to stay away from the mushy romance or sparkly vampire ones though," he said, grinning sheepishly.
; "Hey, there's nothing wrong with a little sparkle," I said, defending my favorite books.
"I knew you were a Team Edward kind of girl."
"What!" I teased. "Twilight too?"
"Come on, is there a human being on the planet who doesn't know about Team Edward versus Team Jacob," he said laughing. "Anyway, I only know about them from the female population at the camp for the last three summers."
"Yeah, right," I said. My side was splitting from laughing so hard.
The rest of the drive passed quickly as we compared book titles. I was amazed at the amount of books he had read and took notes on some of his favorites. I made a mental note to allow more time for reading in the future. I enjoyed reading, but it had always taken a backseat to my art.
Rick pulled into the first gas station we ran across when we hit the foothills and I got out to stretch my legs. I was awestruck at the vastness of the mountains we had just left and wished I had the foresight to bring my sketchpad.
"Pretty amazing, right?" he asked, joining me.
"Most definitely. I wish I'd brought my sketchpad," I said wistfully.
"I'm sure we can get you one in there," he said, pointing to the large store hooked to the gas station.
"You think so?" I asked, doubtfully.
"Trust me, this store carries everything but the kitchen sink. We can grab some grub at the restaurant, and you can look out the window and sketch to your heart's content."
"You don't mind?" I asked, bouncing slightly in excitement.
He laughed at my enthusiasm. "Not at all. I need to catch up on some emails," he said, holding up his laptop. "Not having Internet at Camp UA makes it a little tough at times. I'm going to hit the bathroom while you look for a sketchpad. Do you mind holding this?" he asked, holding out his laptop.
"Sure."
A few minutes later, I met him outside the archway that connected the restaurant to the store.
"I found one," I said, holding up the pad gleefully. "And guess what else I found out? They do sell kitchen sinks," I teased.
"No shit?" he asked.
"Kidding," I said giggling as the hostess approached us.
"Two, Mary," he said.
"How's it going, Rick? We've missed seeing you around lately. You can always tell when it's summer time around here. It gets a lot quieter without our loudmouth boys," she said, shooting me a wink. "Speaking of which, what've you done with my boy?"
"Mason's up at the camp doing some last-minute stuff before the rowdy bunch arrives tomorrow."