Page 13 of Rules

"What? Did you break a tooth?"

"No," she finishes chewing. "What if he can't date you because he's seeing someone?" She looks at me with a shocked expression.

My stomach drops. The possibility hadn't even occurred to me.

"If he is, it's news to me. He said he wasn't dating anyone when we were at the park."

"Maybe it's new, and he wants to see where that one goes."

Sudden anger flares, hot and bright. "If that is why, then he can go fuck right off. Seeing someone? THEN he comes over here and kisses me? I won't forgive that. That's not fair to her, and it certainly isn't fair to me."

"I one hundred percent agree with you. But, let's not condemn him just yet."

I take a calming breath. "You're right, if I'm honest, I don't see him doing that. He just doesn't seem like that kind of guy. I don't get that feeling from him."

"How long has his wife been gone? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Fifteen years."

"Can't be that, then, can it?" Auntie looks thoughtful. "I mean, it would be okay to date now. Certainly enough time has gone by."

"You would think." I push my food around the plate. "Do you think that is what it is? I don't want to compete with a dead wife."

"No, no one wants to do that," she shrugs. "How old is he?"

"Forty-six," the age gap question—the elephant in the room I've been trying to ignore. "I did some covert asking around."

"That's not a tremendous difference. Is it?" Auntie pulls out her phone. "Thirteen years isn't awful. To me, if he was sixty and you just thirty, then that would be quite a difference. But not that it can't be worked out if the couple tries."

"I'm thirty-three," I point out, slightly offended. "I don't think age matters. At least it doesn't to me."

The age difference has never bothered me. I've always been drawn to older men. It's their confidence, their stability, their lack of games. Tobias's silver-streaked hair and well-earned laugh lines are part of what makes him attractive.

"I think you should figure out a way to find out if he is dating someone," Auntie declares.

"And just how do I go about doing that?" I blurt out, frustrated.

"The direct approach is asking him." I make a face, and she continues. "Or ask someone who knows him. Either way, you have to find out before your next meet up."

"I don't know that we will have another meet up, it's not like things went well this last time." The memory of his abrupt shiftfrom passion to professionalism still stings. "But I know who I'm going to ask. I'll see her on Monday."

Joey, finished with his vegetables, wanders over to rest his head on my foot. At least someone in my life is uncomplicated.

"You know what bothers me the most?" I say, watching Joey. "It's not even that he doesn't want to date me. It's the mystery. Not knowing why. If he'd just tell me—she's prettier, she's younger, I remind him of his third-grade teacher who gave him nightmares, those I could accept and deal with. It's the 'can't' that's driving me crazy."

"Men," Auntie says with a heavy sigh, as if that one word explains everything.

The bell above the shop door jingles, signaling the day's first customer. Joey perks up, always ready to play his role as the shop's unofficial greeter.

"Time to go to work," I say, gathering the breakfast remnants. But my mind is already plotting Monday's mission: find out what's really going on with Sheriff Tobias Trenton, even if I have to badger every deputy in the county to get answers.

About halfway through the nine to noon hours we have on Saturday, Evelyn Whitaker walked into the shop.

"Hi, Mrs. Whitaker, how are you?" I stepped around the counter giving her a hug.

"Ruth, it's so nice to see you. I was hoping you were working today."

"Yes, ma'am, what can I do for you?"

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