Page 20 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

That seemed a little late, but I figured he might need to catch up on work since he’d said he left early today. “I can meet you at the restaurant,” I offered.

“I like my dates to ride with me.”

I shrugged, not mad about saving on gas. “See you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here.” He kissed my hand, leaving a small wet spot behind.

I waited until he’d driven away to wipe it off.

When I came in the house, everyone stopped what they were doing to congratulate me. Grandma wrapped her arms around me and said, “I am so excited for you! What a charmer!”

Mom nodded. “Can I take you out to buy a new dress?”

Dad said. “Need something good to wear with that car.”

I laughed at his last comment. “It wasn’t anything special, Dad. I’d be more impressed by a...”

“A what?” Dad asked.

I realized I’d been about to say “a truck.” More specifically, a truck like the one Tyler drove. I’d only ridden in it once, but I liked the way it sat high off the ground and I could feel the power of the engine as we drove. But Tyler was off limits, and I had a perfectly decent guy coming to pick me up tomorrow night.

“You know what, Mom? I think I could use a new dress.”

10

Tyler

I looked up from the paperwork on my desk to see Henrietta coming into the trailer/office we had set up at every job site.

“Hi there,” she said with a smile. She stepped the rest of the way in, handing me a paper to-go cup. “Might not be beer, but coffee’s pretty good too.”

I smiled, thanking her as I took it. One sip and sugary, creamy liquid filled my mouth. I coughed at the surprising taste. “What is this?”

“A latte,” she said, confused. “Do you not like lattes?”

At this moment, I had two choices. Lie and get lattes delivered the rest of the project or tell her the truth. “I’m sorry. I’m more of a black coffee kind of guy. I really appreciate this though. It was awful nice of you to think of me.”

She chuckled. “Not that nice, considering I didn’t ask your coffee order. I just can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That I’ve met my first person with horrible taste in coffee,” she teased.

I let out a surprised laugh. “If you need to fill it with sugar and cream, the coffee must not be very good.”

“What kind do you like?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I’m not that picky. Whatever Chester had at the diner was good enough for me.”

“Noted,” she replied with a smile, then looked down at my desk. “Seems like you’re swamped.”

“Yeah, it’s always heavy at the beginning of a project. Plus, one of the guys tripped yesterday and rolled his ankle. Had him get an X-ray done, so I need to fill out an incident report.”

“Was it broken?” Hen asked, genuine concern in her look. “Should I get an ice machine on site for injuries?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said, frustrated I’d never thought of it. We had to use ice from the drink cooler yesterday.

She got out her phone, tapping on the screen. “I’ll have one by the end of next week. What else can I help with?”

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