Page 39 of Just Business

But with each day, something grows,

the longing deep that neither shows.

I look up, one eyebrow raised. “I filled out a questionnaire, but this isn’t anything from that.” Quickly I glance to make sure Austin isn’t heading my way. Thankfully, he’s still distracted by the band onstage.

“I dabble in tarot readings too. Sometimes, when I’m composing a poem, it’s like something takes over—something deeper than the answers on the questionnaire. I have no choice but to type what my inner voice is saying.” He taps the paper in my hand. “This right here was too strong to ignore.”

My heart races, and my brows knit, turning his words over in my mind.

“I can give you a refund if you’re unhappy.” He starts reaching into his cash box, but I stop him.

“Goodness, no, of course not. I was just surprised, that’s all. Thank you for the poem; it’s truly lovely,” I reply, carefully folding the paper into thirds and tucking it into my purse. Before I walk away, I can’t help but ask one last question. “How’d you know?”

He simply shrugs, and smiles mysteriously at me. I can see how he’d be an excellent tarot reader. “It’s written all over your faces.”

When I get to Austin, he reaches out his hand. “Can I read it?” he asks.

“It wasn’t a very good poem,” I lie. “Let’s keep walking.” I loop my arm through his while silently praying he won’t ask to see it again. It’s not that the poem is bad; in fact, I was being honest when I told the guy that it’s a lovely poem.

“C’mon. Let me see it. It can’t be that bad. I’ve written some pretty awful song lyrics before. I promise I won’t judge the guy.”

It’s a stand-off between Austin’s charm and my stubbornness. Reluctantly, I reach into my purse and pull out the poem, placing it in his outstretched palm. I stare at my painted yellow toenails as he studies the paper.

When he’s finished he folds it back up, and with his index finger he reaches under my chin, tugging it up so I’m looking at him. I chew my bottom lip as our eyes meet.

“It’s a good poem. I think it speaks some truths.” There’s an understanding in his eyes and I return the look. The rest of the day I bite back the goofy smile that keeps trying to dance across my lips.

* * *

The sun has set, and the string of lights that zig-zag above our heads illuminate the faces of everyone milling about. Most of the under twenty-one crowd has headed home, including Josie's kids. Greg and Lisa left early, taking Abby and Jay home with them for the night.

The Late Nighters are setting up to perform, and there's a buzz of energy in the air. Austin has disappeared into the bar with Liam, and Josie takes advantage of our time alone, sidling up next to me.

“I took Jay to the barber shop yesterday, and Henry said he saw you and Austin canoodling on a picnic blanket down by the river.”

Shaking my head, I squint my eyes at her. “Who the hell says canoodling?” Despite the flicker of worry in my belly, I can’t bite back the laugh that escapes my lips. Henry is the town gossip and I can only imagine what he’s saying.

Josie puts her hands up, feigning innocence. “I’m just saying, that's the word he used. His exact words were, ‘Saw Penny and that country sanger canoodling at the river. Good on her. Good on her.’” She mimics Henry’s deep southern drawl, and I laugh at her spot-on impression.

“I swear, no ‘canoodling’ occurred.” I use air quotes around the word. “We just fished and had fun together. Our bodies never even made contact!”

“But I bet you wanted them to,” Josie sing-songs under her breath.

I roll my eyes, but I’m unable to mask the amusement in my voice. “We’ve been spending time together. We eat dinner, work on a puzzle, watch some TV, and then he takes me to bed.”

Instantly I realize my mistake when she gasps, covering her hand with her mouth.

“No, not like that, you perv. You know I wake up early and we stay up late watchingSchitt’s Creek. I always end up falling asleep on the couch. I don’t even remember it, but every morning I’m in my bed.” I don’t tell her there’s always a note on my nightstand or that I’ve started keeping them in a shoebox on the floor of my closet.

Josie steps closer, nodding her head back and forth like she’s studying me.

“Oh my god, you’re falling for him,” she says after a beat. “I called it.”

Leave it to Josie to see right through all my bullshit. She’s always been able to figure me out, even when I’ve struggled to figure myself out.

Finally, I work up the courage to say something I’ve barely even had the courage to admit to myself. “I know it’s too soon, but I think I might be.”

“Listen, I know I tease you about him and all,” she starts, “but try not to overthink this. You two will figure it out. Let it be whatever you’re comfortable with it being. Trust yourself. Maybe let your heart call the shots for a while and give your brilliant brain a little break.”

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