Page 36 of Small Town Swoo
“Okay, but you have kids. I’m just not at all in that headspace right now. I’m not focused on relationships,” I said, watching Ari approach carrying two plates. “I’m focused on work.”
She set our breakfasts in front of us. “Here you go. Two Creole Eggs Benny. You have to let me know what you think.”
Austin wasted no time in digging in. “I think I’m in love.”
She blushed beautifully. “It sold out already.”
I took a bite too. “It’s really good, Ari. I’m not surprised it sold out.”
“Thanks. I’m kind of proud of it.”
“You should be,” I told her. “You’re so talented.”
The color in her face deepened. “Thanks.”
“Especially since you’ve learned the difference between salt and sugar,” I added.
She burst out laughing and swatted at me with a paper napkin. “Jerk!”
Austin was chuckling too. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“Apparently, Dash doesn’t forgetanything,” Ari said, giving me the stink eye.
“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I have a good memory.”
“Do you still want to come over for dinner tonight?”
“Sure,” I said casually, as if I wasn’t dying to spend more time alone with her. “If you want me to.”
“I’m going to try a sandwich with braised short ribs, maybe served with some crispy truffle fries.”
“CanIcome for dinner tonight?” Austin asked.
Ari laughed. “Absolutely. But you’ll have to watch a movie with us. Last night, I made Dash watchTitanic. He hated it.”
“I didn’thateit,” I said. “I just don’t think I’m the target audience.”
“Maybe you’ll like tonight better,” she said.
“What’s the movie?”
She shook her head, her eyes twinkling. “Not telling. Come over about seven?”
“If I came a little earlier, we could get some painting done,” I suggested. “What time will you be home from work?”
“I have to hit the grocery store after my shift, but I should be home by four.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have your car by then too.”
“Okay.” She smiled brightly. “You’re the best, Dash. Thanks.”
When she disappeared into the kitchen, Austin put down his fork and picked up his coffee. Took a sip while staring straight ahead.
“What?” I demanded.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your silence implied an opinion.”
