Page 29 of Wildly Yours
"For helping me today."
"Well, I feel responsible."
"You are. You are a lot of things. So even though there's still all of this stuff between us…thank you."
We pull out of the park and onto the highway leading back to downtown Owl Creek where I live, work, and serve. And suddenly my world feels small. The only time I leave is to go on dates in Port Stratton or other nearby towns. I don't go on vacation, I don't do anything outside of my routine and comfort zone.
He's right. I need to try something different, because right now doing the same thing over and over is getting me nowhere fast. Especially in my love life.
I pull out my cell phone and call the store, asking my employee to drop the cash in the safe, print out the sales totals, and lock up at 4pm. When I hang up I feel a rush in my body, sending shivers down my arms and legs. "That felt good."
A low chuckle erupts from his chest. "Yeah?"
"I'm going to call Meredith now."
When I get off the phone, I feel lighter. Almost as if I'm high. Like the spaces between the cells of my body have expanded.
"So what are you going to do with all this abundant time off?"
"I don't know. Maybe I'll jump on the dating apps."
I swear I hear a soft growl vibrate in his chest. "I can't believe you use those."
"And you don't?"
"No. Never have, never will."
"Then how do you date? You certainly aren't seeing anyone in town."
"I don't."
"You don't what?"
"I don't date."
I'm not sure if I'm surprised or thrilled. Either way, thoughts are spinning around my head like a merry-go-round, but there is nothing I can do with that information. I try to remind my heart that this is a no-go zone.
"How often do you meet guys from the Internet?"
"You make it sound sordid."
"That's not an answer."
I shift my body to look at him, knowing he can't do the same because he's driving. I want to see his face while we talk about this.
"I've only met a few. Dinner, maybe a movie."
"So that's it?"
"Cody, why do you think that this is any of your business?"
Another low growl. Or maybe a grumble. "You brought it up."
"I simply told you what I might do with my day off laying on the couch because I sprained my ankle. You're the one who is turning this into an inquisition."
"It's hardly an inquisition. If it were, you'd be—you know what? Forget it."
"I don't want to forget it. I want you to tell me why you think this is your business."
