Page 34 of Fall With Me
Six grocery bags hang from each of my arms. The back door of my duplex leads right to my carport, but making multiple trips to bring food in the house regardless of the proximity is absurd. I will lift as many bags as will fit on my forearms, despite the lingering red lines and torn shoulder muscles. And who needs their pinkies? One trip means I win and the bags lose.
Fumbling for my keys while trying to keep all the bags on my weighed-down arms is tougher than it looks. I should have unlocked my back door first, then grabbed the groceries. My hand shakes as I fit the key into the lock. At the exact moment, my phone rings, startling me. I drop my keys on the concrete porch and let out a growl. “Ugh. Seriously?!”
Admitting defeat, I slide my right arm out of the handles, setting all the bags down. Grabbing my phone from myback pocket, my stomach flutters. Dawson’s name appears in white letters at the top of my screen.
“Youarealive,” I say as my greeting, tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder.
Dawson’s low chuckle rumbles in my ear. “I am.”
“Thank you for calling me back. I’m assuming this is in response to my texts this morning?”
“All six of them. Yes.”
I cringe and am so grateful Dawson can’t see me right now. Multiple texts right in a row isslightlyoverboard. I’m shocked he called me back. Honestly, if it were me, I’d ignore him. “Yeah…sorry about that. I want everyone to do things when I say so.”
“I see.”
I’m not coming off in the best light right now. “Did I mention how sorry I was?”
“Casually.”
A smile creeps its way onto my lips. “Dawson, darling,” I say in a tone as sickly sweet as lemonade. “I am utterly and completely apologetic for my overexcitement and rapid text messages due to said excitement. Will youpleaseforgive me and tell me when you’re free to keep this fall festival on track for your fellow colleagues?”
Dawson laughs. “All right, bring down the saccharine apology a few notches.”
“I’ve got plenty of steam to continue.” I pick up my keys, get my door open, and carry in my groceries, setting them on my kitchen counter.
“No need. And not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t respond to your texts right away because Finn was using my phone to talk to his mom.”
I slap my forehead. Of course. After yesterday, Finn for sure needs time with Willow. “Oh, I’m really, really sorry. You mentioned that. I should have remembered.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t want you thinking I hadn’t responded on purpose.”
“Very courteous of you. Thank you, sir.”
“Listen, sassy pants. If I knew not answering you right away would cause the cheeky side of you to come out, I wouldn’t have called.”
This interaction is exactly why Dawson is now a friend and not simply Carter’s employee. Just like the night I tripped onto him. Our joking with each other sends bubbles throughout my veins like water dumped on dry ice. “Now you know. Do what I want, when I want, or suffer the consequences.”
Dawson barks out a laugh.
I pull my phone away from my ear until the noise dies down.
“Let’s hit up the canyon tomorrow after you get off work to check out the space for the festival,” I say. “And for the other venues, I’m free in the evenings Tuesday through Friday, and all day Sunday and Monday.”
“Finn has football practice Monday nights, but I’ll see if my mom can take him tomorrow.”
“Let me know if it won’t work and I need to go alone, or we can reschedule too. I also want to check out Cornbelly’sfor ideas on games and decorations we can do for the fall theme, but they’re not open on Sundays.”
“What about Cornbelly’s Tuesday night after work?”
Putting the call on speaker, I tap on my calendar app. It’s sad how few activities I have listed Sunday through Friday. “Tuesday’s perfect. Can you check out Wheeler Farm and This Is The Place with me on Wednesday?”
“As long as you’re good with Finn being with us.”
I put my milk in the fridge. “Uh, yeah. He’s the only reason being stuck with you practically every day this week is doable,” I say sarcastically.
“I’m incredibly happy I offered to help you. I’m feeling allll your appreciation,” Dawson retorts.
