Page 7 of You Shouldn't Have Come Here

“You’ve gotta get the bacon and the hot dog too.”

She glanced in my direction and then dove her spoon into the bowl. Holding it in front of her, she stared. “Here goes nothing.”

Grace closed her eyes and pinched her nose shut with her other hand and stuck the spoon straight into her mouth. It was rather dramatic, but I’d expect that from a woman like her. While she chewed, she kept her nose plugged and her eyes closed. When the flavors hit just right, just like I knew they would, her eyes burst open and her fingers let go of the sides of her nose.

“That’s actually really good.” She happily scooped up another spoonful.

“I told ya so. You’ve gotta trust me.” I chuckled.

We ate quietly for a few minutes. The only sound was our spoons clanking against the bowls.

“So, you said you don’t eat stuff like this. What do ya eat?” I asked, breaking the silence.

“Normal stuff.”

“Oh, so I’m not normal?” I teased.

She laughed and told me that wasn’t what she meant.

“I’m just joshing ya.” I smiled.

There was another silent period for a few minutes. It was like neither of us knew what to say, or perhaps we were both being cautious with our words.

“Tell me about yourself, Grace,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

She took a swig of her beer and looked at me, her blue, blue eyes fixated on mine. It was the only way I knew how to describe those eyes of hers. Blue, blue.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything, but let’s start with, what do you do for a living?” I folded my arms in front of my chest.

“I work in banking,” she saidmatter-of-factly.

“Impressive.” I took another drink, and she nodded.

“Your turn. What about you, Calvin Wells? What do you do for a living?” She cocked her head.

I liked the way she said my full name. “I do a lot of things. Farming, Airbnb, gardening, odd jobs here and there. Anything to keep me busy and to keep this ranch afloat.”

She leaned back, matching my posture, and took another drink of her beer. “Admirable.”

“Why Wyoming?” I asked.

“Why not?” She shrugged.

I raised an eyebrow, letting her know I wasn’t satisfied with her answer. The corner of her lip perked up.

“It’s silly, really,” she said.

“I like silly. Hit me with it.”

Grace took a swig of her beer. When her gaze met mine again, she spoke. “Every year, I close my eyes and throw a dart at a map of the United States. Wherever it lands, that’s where I go for vacation.” Her cheeks flushed like she was embarrassed or something.

“That’s not silly at all. It’s like fate.” I let on a small smile. “But why do it that way though? Why not pick a place you really want to go? Heck, you could be in California or Hawaii right now, lying up on a beach with a piña colada in your hand. Not here in Dubois, Wyoming, eating beans and hot dogs with me.” I chuckled.

She laughed too but then got a little serious. Her blue, blue eyes flickered, and she let out a sigh.

“My life is very routine. Everything is planned and planned again. Every minute of my day is scheduled. This gives me freedom in a way.” Grace tilted her head.

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