Chapter 11
I still can’t believe Aiden wants to go to the drive-in.
He was always so quiet back in high school, and pretty uninterested when it came to pop culture.
Who knew he had a Gilmore Girls –watching side to him?
But then I remember how Aiden used to play Barbies with me and Charlotte sometimes when we were kids.
He’s always had a soft spot for his sister, and he’s never been one to turn down a fun time because it’s a “girls thing to do.” Which is frankly awesome.
Overly macho dudes are the worst . But regardless of Aiden’s reason for going tonight, if he’s driving, I’m not passing up the opportunity to see some Gilmore Girls .
I only wish Maria was here. She would love to go.
Charlotte is going too, of course, but it turns out, despite her obvious crush on Sawyer, she has a date with some mystery guy, so her brother and I are on our own.
But it’s not from lack of me trying to find someone—anyone—who wants to go with us.
Mostly because I don’t want this to feel anything like a date.
Because that would be awkward. And it’s not a date.
It’s just two business partners going to a drive-in movie on a Friday night together.
Okay, it completely sounds like a date.
After getting turned down by Mom, Dad, and Charlotte, I ask both Mr. and Mrs. Parker, and then finally, Donny.
Donny promptly informs me that he cannot attend because he has work tonight, both at the drive-in itself and as the local rideshare driver.
He tells me he’s the busiest driver in town.
I joke that he’s the only driver in town, and he says he is not.
Millie the mayor’s girlfriend, Kaylie, is the other rideshare driver, and it’s soon clear to me that Donny is not happy about the competition.
“You can’t be everywhere at once, though, can you? ” I ask.
He shakes his head and says, “Do you even know me, Ellie?”
I went to high school with Donny so, yeah, I know him.
The dude has had every job in town since he was old enough to work.
He even used to deliver the local newspapers as a kid.
The only night he’s off is bingo night. With his job at the inn too, I have to wonder when he sleeps.
It’s worrisome. Meanwhile, he could probably buy and sell the entire town.
By the time I come waltzing out of my bedroom wearing jeans, a cozy black cashmere sweater, and my cleaned-up suede boots, I’m resigned to the fact that Aiden and I are going out together on what feels like (but is definitely not) a date.
Only, it feels even more like a date when I see what Aiden’s wearing.
It’s a heather-gray sweater with a white collared shirt underneath and nice (meaning not ripped or faded) jeans.
His dark, curly hair is even slicked back a little.
He looks datey. And frankly, so do I. I glance down at myself.
Are the boots too cute? Should I change into sneakers?
It’s too late, though—he sees me. He tosses his keys in the air and catches them. “Ready?”
“Sure.” I grab my wool coat—the one Charlotte saved—and follow him to the door.
“Okay if Argos comes too?” he asks.
Argos! Maybe it won’t seem like a date if Argos is there. “The more the merrier,” I say.
Aiden pulls a big bag full of stuff off the kitchen counter, and we walk down the stairs together and out the side door into the leaves.
Argos is waiting for us by the back door.
I take a quick survey of the land and see no sign of Miss Guin.
Perhaps she is intimidated by Argos. Perhaps she is on break. Either way, I’m happy.
It’s a little cooler than it was when the sun was out, and the crisp air feels good as I pull it into my lungs.
The scent of the leaves is heavy tonight.
And the wood smoke lingers. I feel calm.
Calm and centered like I haven’t... probably since I left Harvest Hollow.
That is a sobering thought. Today felt like stepping back in time.
To a place that was familiar and easy, filled with people who care.
Friends who remember that you love tater tots and who give you knitted chickens for free.
When we get to the parking lot, Aiden steps to the passenger door of a dark-gray four-door Toyota Tacoma truck.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“My truck.”
“I thought the red truck was yours,” I admit.
His brows furrow. “That truck is two hundred years old. We just keep it around for the old-fashioned look for the orchard.”
“I didn’t know that.” I shrug. Clearly, I have offended the man. “Why did you take it today?”
“We were on official inn business. I figured we should take the official inn truck.”
Which means we’re not on official business tonight. We are in Toyota territory. Purely personal. My heart pounds for some unexplained reason.
Aiden opens the truck door for me, and I give him a little side-eye. He’s close enough for me to smell his aftershave, which kinda makes my knees weak, honestly. He smells like he’s on a date too. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?” He opens the door to the back seat of the truck and tosses in the bag. Argos jumps back there too, and Aiden fusses around in the seat for a moment.
“You don’t have to open the door for me,” I tell him when he emerges. “This isn’t a date.”
He gives me a sarcastic, crooked smile. “Okay, just for the record, if it was a date, would you want me to open the door for you?”
He’s messing with me. I can tell by his tone and the sparkle in his eye.
But the question makes me think for a second.
Geoff never opened a door for me. I took that as a sign of respect.
Women don’t need their doors opened. But honestly, if this was a date—and again, it’s not —I’m not sure that I would mind Aiden opening the door.
It just feels like a nice thing to do. But it’s not a date, so it doesn’t matter. Which is what I promptly tell him.
“Noted,” he says, shaking his head and walking around to the driver’s side.
Minutes later we’re on the highway headed to the drive-in. It’s on the opposite side of town from where the inn and orchard sit. From end-to-end it’s only about a fifteen-minute drive.
This time I keep my head inside. No hanging out the window tonight.
My hair is coiffed. I am wearing lip gloss.
Argos, who has every reason to hang his head out the window, instead keeps his snout pointed between the front seats.
I realize at some point that he’s wearing a dog seat belt, and I find that adorable.
“I can’t believe we’re going to the drive-in,” I say. “I feel like I’m sixteen again.” I reach back and pat Argos on the head.
“Been that long, eh?” Aiden is driving with only one hand gripping the top center of the steering wheel. He’s a good, steady driver. Not trying to whip around and impress me. Eyes on the road. I feel safe with him. I’m sure Argos does too. He bought him a seat belt, for God’s sake.
I think about Aiden’s question for a few seconds.
When was the last time I was at the drive-in?
“I honestly can’t remember.” It was one of the only things to do in our town back in the day, and it seems as if it’s still that way.
“Are high school kids still making out in the back row?” I ask, waggling my brows suggestively.
“I wouldn’t know,” Aiden replies. “I don’t park in the back row.”
“Because all of the sixteen-year-olds get there first,” I say, laughing.
“I didn’t park there when I was sixteen,” he grumbles.
I stifle my laugh. Oh, this is awkward, because me and my dates definitely used to park there. Was Aiden actually watching the movies? I just sort of nod, happy to let that subject peter right out.
“Mrs. Lawrence is going to have us dating, you know?” Aiden says.
My head snaps to the side to face him. “What?” Did he just say what I think he said?
“Her blog is still up.”
“No!” I clap my hand over my mouth, completely horrified. Mrs. Lawrence’s blog, where she basically served the tea on everyone in town, is still up? How is that even possible? I haven’t looked at it in years. “Is it the same site?” I ask, still horrified but also more than a little curious.
“Yeah, Harvest Hollow Hot Sheet,” Aiden says with a laugh.
I’ve already clicked on the site, and it’s loading on my phone. Of course, it’s not optimized for mobile, but I’m able to see it. “Oh my God! She’s already posted about us stopping in the diner today.”
“Of course she has.”
“Does everyone still pretend they don’t know it’s her?” I am frowning hard. How can this be?
“Yep,” Aiden reports. “Weirdly, to this day no one has confronted her about it. That I know of, at least. She’s Harvest Hollow’s own Lady Whistledown.”
Well, now I’m completely distracted from talk about the blog. “Wait. In addition to Gilmore Girls , you watch Bridgerton too?”
Aiden rubs the back of his neck with his free hand but keeps his eyes on the road. “Charlotte had it on one night.”
“Sure, she did.” This is very interesting. Aiden, grumpy-farmer-high-school-loner Aiden, likes things like cozy TV shows and Regency romance dramas? Unexpected, to say the least.
I learn even more about Aiden after we park in the third row at the drive-in and he pulls the big bag he brought with him into the front seat. Of course, I’d been dying to know what was in it but figured I’d find out soon enough.
Turns out it’s a quilt and a bag of popcorn. He also brought a stack of napkins. And honestly, my hero . Slow clap for that.
“It gets cold out here,” he says as he unfolds the enormous quilt and pushes half of it toward me. It’s big enough to cover the whole truck, so there won’t be any awkward fight over the edges.