Page 48 of Mustang Summer

He scowled.“Yes.”

Her smile faded.“Is everything okay?”

“No.Before I meet my cousins I have to check the chickens, and go look at the siding, make sure none of the windows are cracked, then there’s the trees—”

“You’re worried.”

His mouth snapped shut and he nodded.“Yeah, I’m worried.”

He said it like he was relieved she had identified what he was feeling, as if he couldn’t do it himself.What had she read when she’d Googled Mason’s diagnosis?Something with emotions… She’d have to look again; she couldn’t ask.How do you come out and say,Hey, has anyone diagnosed you with anything?

“Okay.I’ll shower while you get breakfast ready.Do you mind if I go around with you to look at everything?”She glanced at the clock on his living room wall.“At least until I can go visit Jesse before I leave town.”

His cousins probably didn’t want her along when they checked their fields, although she was curious about what the aftermath looked like.

“That’s fine.”He shifted out of the way so she could use the bathroom.As she passed, she meant to give him a demure smile because last night was the most amazing night ever, but his gaze wasn’t on her.Like it hadn’t been most of the morning.Was his reaction all nerves, or something else?

She went through her routine in the strange bathroom, but surrounded by his stuff, it felt right.His bathroom was only slightly larger than the one in her old house, but it was comfortable.Earth tones with soft lights cast a peaceful atmosphere—for a bathroom, but there was track lighting she could use above the mirror if she wanted.

He seemed to have a thing for neutral colors and soft materials.His towels were as plush as the carpeting, definitely more expensive than the ones she’d bought on clearance.

Colors.Sounds.Wasn’t that common for someone on the autism spectrum?But engines didn’t bother him.Was it because they were predictable?Or because they didn’t herald possible income loss and property damage like a storm?Maybe both.Looking her in the eyes seemed to be an issue.It wasn’t like he avoided it, he just…didn’t always look at her.She was curious to see how he acted in a crowd, or when making small talk.He tended to be on the literal side and didn’t read the subtleties of speech too well.When she got home, she was going to have a heyday on “Dr.Google” trying to figure out Brock Walker.

If she just asked him, would he tell her?

What if she asked him and he had no idea what she was talking about?Insulting.

Feeling much better after cleaning up and donning new clothes, she twisted her hair into double ponytails.It was too short to pull back into one.She hefted her pack and walked out.

“What smells so good?”She wandered into the kitchen.

Brock, back in another black T-shirt and blue jeans, was at the stove, pushing food around.“Eggs and sausage.”

“Is that like a farm-standard breakfast?”She dropped her pack and settled on a barstool.Her stomach rumbled.She grabbed a banana from the middle of the island.

“I have it every morning.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Munching on her banana, she adjusted in her seat, attacked by a sudden case of self-consciousness.Sleeping over with Brock hadn’t entered her mind when she’d packed, so she wore an old blue college T-shirt and black basketball shorts.And her only shoes were the sandals down by the door.

Glamorous.

Brock switched the stove off and separated the food onto two plates that already had tomato slices on them.

“Homegrown?”she asked.

“The eggs and tomatoes, yes.”

She smiled at him when he pushed the plate in front of her, but he wasn’t looking.Oh, okay.She dug into her eggs, but she curled in on herself.What was it with this bout of insecurity?Maybe Brock was fine about what happened last night and it was her.

They ate in silence.He was a fast eater and was up and washing dishes before half her food was gone.

She finished chewing her mouthful and pushed another forkful around.“You’re welcome to sit with me until I’m done.”

“I have to get outside and check out the damage.”

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