Chapter 13
L enore could not believe that she was getting ready for a date.
Brandon had only been on the homestead for ten days, and everything about it felt different. They’d prepped the land for the chicken coop today and cut and prepared all of the wood to build it.
Because of Penny Walker’s death, Brandon had not pressure-washed the barn yesterday. He said he’d get up early tomorrow and do it so it would be ready for them on Wednesday.
Lenore knew things rarely ran on schedule around a homestead, and yet, at precisely six-thirty, Brandon knocked on her door.
“It’s me, Lenny,” he called as he entered.
Lenore looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She owned exactly one dress and one skirt, and she hadn’t wanted to wear either of them tonight. When she’d asked Brandon where he was taking her for dinner, he’d come back at her with a question of his own.
“What do you like?”
Lenore hadn’t even hesitated to tell him that she rarely went out to eat, and anything would be fine. He said he’d pick something amazing, and she currently wore a black pair of jeans and a short-sleeved sweater the color of bright, ripe raspberries.
She’d washed her hair with a gallon of room-temperature water—which could either be a good thing or a bad thing—and thankfully, her hair had cooperated with the blow dryer and lay in neat, straight strands over her shoulders and down her back.
She’d brushed on a little bit of mascara and touched on a tiny bit of lip gloss, and she really didn’t know what else to do. So she left the bedroom and found Brandon in the main part of the house, sitting on the couch with both dogs practically on his lap.
“You guys,” she said, and both Admiral and Susie-Q just looked at her like, What? We’re not doing anything wrong.
She giggled as Brandon smiled and rose to his feet. “Wow,” he said, his eyes scanning down to her boots and back. “You look incredible.”
He took her hand with such practiced ease that she knew he’d dated far more than she had.
“I’m a little nervous,” she said.
“Of going out with me?” he asked, and he seemed genuinely surprised.
She reached for her wallet, as she didn’t own a purse, and nodded. “I haven’t been out with anyone in a while.”
“Oh, well, that’s fine,” he said. “I go out all the time, so I’m excellent at small talk.” He grinned at her, but she didn’t think he was kidding.
A new pit opened in her stomach because she was absolutely sure he wasn’t kidding, which meant he absolutely went out with a lot of women and had plenty of them to compare her to.
“Who’s the last woman you went out with?” she asked.
“Let’s see,” he said. “I think the last one was this lady named Lucy?” He phrased it like a question, which so wasn’t good. “She was a dog walker.”
Lenore nodded and got into the passenger seat of his truck. His was about ten times nicer than hers, and she swallowed nervously while he rounded the hood and got behind the wheel.
“How long ago was that?” she asked.
He cut her a look out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know, May or June.”
“Oh wow. That’s not that long ago,” she said.
“We only went out five or six times,” Brandon said. “It wasn’t a serious relationship.”
Lenore nodded and decided this conversation could be over. Thankfully, Brandon seemed to agree, as he didn’t bring up anything else about who she dated and when that was. Lenore might honestly have to get out a calendar to know.
She appreciated that Brandon could exist in silence, and though he claimed to be great at small talk, he didn’t say much on the way to the restaurant.
He pulled into a little bistro that Lenore had never seen before and asked, “Is this okay? They serve all kinds of stuff—pasta and chicken sandwiches, pizza, steak, kind of whatever.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Lenore said, giving him a smile.
He didn’t return it, and something felt off about him. Lenore let it all go until they’d been seated and put in their drink orders. Then she asked, “What’s going on with you?”
He looked at her—maybe for the first time that night, or at least since he’d drank her in in her first-date outfit. “I wanted to go over my schedule this month,” he said. “I feel like I’ve got a lot going on, and part of our deal was that I would tell you so we could plan.”
Lenore nodded, every muscle in her body suddenly tight. “Let me get out my calendar.” She swiped open her phone and tapped. “All right, what have we got? I know the funeral is on Thursday.”
She had already put that in her calendar, and she expected Brandon to be gone all day.
“Yes, the funeral is on Thursday,” he said. “I’m fine to work on Sunday to make up for it, or somehow squeeze in more hours somewhere. My friends Paul and Brielle are due next week,” he said. “With their first baby. I’m pretty sure I’m going to want to go see them when they have it.”
Lenore kept her eyes on her phone, because how did one schedule the birth of a baby? Surely Brandon wouldn’t have to be there the moment it was born, either. “Okay,” she said.
“We can play that by ear,” Brandon said.
And that was definitely a game that Lenore was not very good at.
“Remember Alex at Coyote Pass?”
“Yes,” she said.
“His twins are having their birthday party next week, on Friday. And that’s after the ranch owners meeting on Thursday, which we absolutely need to go to.”
Lenore did her best not to roll her eyes or her neck. Instead, she just raised her gaze to Brandon’s. “Do we really?”
“Yes,” he said.
It took almost forty-five minutes to get to town, as there was no direct route the way there was from Coyote Pass.
“Where is it this month?” she asked.
“Finn’s been holding it at the IFA,” Brandon said. “I’ll double-check, though.” He leaned toward her, his eyes bright. “I really think we can get a lot of help there, Lenore. And I want to come back to this in just a second.”
He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable, and that only set Lenore on high alert.
“Is that it? A birthday party and a baby and a funeral?”
“The ranch owners meeting,” he said with half a smile. “And of course, Thanksgiving.”
Lenore’s eyes dropped to the last Thursday of the month. She’d forgotten about Thanksgiving, mostly because she only had herself to celebrate with, and it was just another day that work needed to be done.
“I, ahem, wanted to warn you that when Zona brings the chickens later this week, she’s planning to ask you to come to Thanksgiving dinner at her house.”
Lenore blinked rapidly, her eyes getting larger with each one. “What?”
Brandon grinned at her. “I may or may not have told her that we had a date tonight, and she can’t stomach the thought of you celebrating Thanksgiving by yourself.”
“You’ll be there, right?” Lenore asked.
“Oh, I’m gonna be there,” Brandon said. “But I think Zona should come with a warning label. And I know she won’t…and I know she’s going to ask a lot of questions.”
Lenore swallowed, finding her mouth very dry. Thankfully, the waitress arrived with their drinks, and she quickly reached for a straw and unwrapped it. “Brandon, I haven’t been to anyone’s house for Thanksgiving in a long time.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t know how to cut down a tree with a chainsaw earlier today either.” He smiled at her, but the gesture dropped quickly. “I know it irritates you when I have to leave the homestead.”
“It does,” she said. That frustration, which had come so immediately, disappeared just as quickly. “But it doesn’t at the same time. We’re talking a national holiday and a funeral and a birthday party. It’s not that big of a deal.”
She did roll her neck now. “As my momma would say, I’ve got to learn how to chill.”
Brandon burst out laughing, and Lenore wasn’t sure if she should join in or glare at him until he stopped. She sort of did both—grinning while glaring—and that only made Brandon laugh harder.
“You should see your face right now,” he said between gasps of air and laughter.
The waitress reappeared. “Are you ready to put in your orders?”
Lenore hadn’t even looked at the menu yet, but Brandon placed one big palm over it. “I’ll order for both of us.”
“This should be good,” Lenore said, and she sank back in the booth and folded her arms.
Brandon held her gaze for a moment, his bravado dropping as he scrambled to pick up the menu. “This is either going to be really bad or really good,” he said. “I want the ribeye—medium.”
“Do you want French fries or mashed potatoes?” the waitress asked.
“Mashed,” he said. “And can I get an order of those sautéed mushrooms?”
“Sure thing.”
He studied the menu, a slight line creasing between his eyes. “And for the pretty lady over there…let’s see. I think we’re gonna go with the fettuccine Alfredo.”
The waitress looked at her, but Lenore kept her poker face in place.
“Do you want to add chicken?” she asked.
Lenore raised her eyebrows at Brandon, who did the exact same thing right back to her. “Yes,” he said, without looking away. “And she wants a side Caesar salad and a frozen root beer float.”
Lenore grinned at him, but he looked up to the waitress. “Just kidding. The float is for me.”
She smiled, but it was clear she didn’t care about Lenore and Brandon’s first date. “Is that all?”
“If I got it right,” Brandon said. “If not, I’ll wave you down and order something else.”
“Okay.” She turned and walked away. The saltiness in her tone made Lenore dissolve into giggles.
“She was not impressed by your game,” she said.
“Oh, I’ve been out with her before,” Brandon said. “That’s why she’s salty.”
Lenore’s eyebrows went up. “You’ve been out with her before?”
“Just a few times,” Brandon said, reaching for his drink. “Well, I’ve been out with a lot of women, Lenore. In fact, I put myself on a female fast this summer and haven’t dated for a few months because of it.”
“Oh, a few months,” she said sarcastically.
Brandon’s gaze hooked into hers. “Dating is not a crime,” he said.
“No, I know,” she said.
“Neither is getting help when you need it.”