Page 82 of Cockpit
“A picnic, huh?”
His teeth sink into his lower lip as he rocks on his heels. “There’s a picnic that we have here in Sunnyville, and I was wondering . . .” His eyes are innocent and full of hope.
“If I would go with you?”
He nods and then straightens his spine as if he realizes that he needs to act like a grown-up. “We were on our way there, and I asked Nana if it would be okay if we stopped by here and asked you to come with us. We already have a lunch made. There are sandwiches and sodas—I only get to have soda on special occasions—and chocolate chip cookies. Nana makes the best chocolate chip cookies because she puts extra chips in them and—”
“Chocolate chip cookies?” My mouth waters at just the thought of them.
He nods enthusiastically, and I notice how the fingers on his right hand are crossed for luck. This kid is killing me in the best kind of way.
“You’re on your way there right now?”
“Yep.”
“We didn’t mean to interrupt your day,” his nana says as she steps forward and puts a protective hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I’m Betsy Malone, Grayson’s mom.” She extends her hand, and I stand to shake it.
“Nice to meet you.”
She’s striking. There’s a graceful fluidity to her when she moves, her smile is welcoming in every sense of the word, and her eyes—so similar to Grayson’s—are the sort that see way more than you want them to see.
“Like I said, we didn’t mean to just barge on in here, but it’s a beautiful afternoon and we thought you might like to get out and enjoy Sunnyville instead of being cooped up in this office.”
“Thank you for thinking of me,” I say with caution because I know how sensitive Grayson is to Luke being around women he is seeing.
Seeing? Is that what we’re doing? Seeing each other?
But if no one knows that’s what is going on, would it bug him if I went to the picnic with them?
I really don’t want to turn Luke down, but how exactly do I ask to call Grayson to find out if this is okay and not offend Betsy or Luke?
“I think I . . .” I look from Betsy to Luke and then back to Betsy. “Does Grayson know you’re here?”
“Nope,” Luke says and laughs. “Nana is all about spontaneity. She says it’s the best kind of adventure.” He looks back her way as if he’s so proud that she’s taught him this.
“Grayson will be fine with it,” Betsy says with a nod. “But you’re more than welcome to give him a call and ask. Although, while he’s at the dispatch desk, he typically doesn’t carry his cell. It’s a department protocol thing.” She waves a hand in indifference. “If he gets mad, I’ll take the heat.”
Stuck in indecision with a pair of puppy-dog eyes loaded with hope staring at me, I put my hands on my knees and bend over so Luke and I are face to face.
“So, this is like a friend date? Food and fun and friends?”
“And nanas.” He bounces on his toes.
“Okay,” I say with a definitive nod.
Luke’s eyes widen, and his smile does even more so. “You mean you want to go with us?”
“Of course, buddy. I just need a few minutes to sort some things.”
“Okay, we’ll wait out here.”
He shuffles his way out to the reception area with Betsy in tow. I have a task list a million miles long and yet I can’t help but wonder why I’m walking to a picnic when a few weeks ago I would have laughed at the idea of doing it.
My desk is loaded with Post-It notes of things I have to do, but I shut my laptop with a click and walk out of the office without any qualms about leaving it until tomorrow. I’m actually kind of looking forward to sinking my heels into the grass—there has to be grass at a picnic, right? And getting to hang out with Luke.
The small-town air is affecting me.
That has to be what it is.
