Page 72 of Tumbleweed Temptation
“We can work that out by the end of the week, once we have the entries. We may get the entrants, we may not. Can I buy you breakfast?”
She hesitated. “I don't know. I have a lot of work to do today.”
“You have to eat.”
“Aren’t you going to be sick enough of me after working together every day?”
“Maybe. But then I won’t invite you to breakfast.”
She scowled at him, but took the arm he offered her and they walked to the diner. Since both the Methodist and Catholic services were out, the place was hopping.
“I hope Janine doesn’t draft me into duty,” Ginny said, eyeing the waitresses running around.
“They’ll be fine without you. But if you’d rather, we could go to Delgado’s.”
She hesitated. “No, it’s just weird to know I don't work here anymore, I guess.” She led the way through the crowd to a two-top near the counter.
“You worked here almost half your life.”
“That’s not depressing at all,” she said, turning the coffee cup already on the table right side up.
“Hey, at least you have that. By the time I’ve worked half my life at something, I’ll be sixty years old.”
She widened her eyes. “That is kind of weird to think about.”
“You look really nice today,” he said, motioning to the dress.
She touched the neckline. “I bought it off the internet. I thought maybe I could try something new with the new job.”
“I don't have a dress code, but you wear what makes you happy.” He would not object to seeing her in a dress every day. Or jeans. Or hell, just seeing her every day.
Oh, man, he was in trouble here.
Their meal was interrupted several times with women coming forward with the flyer, asking questions, most of which could have been answered by, well, reading the flyer. But the interest was heartening.
“Maybe we should have done age categories,” Ginny mused. “High school kids, senior citizens.”
“Some people would never admit their age, you know that.”
She laughed. “That is true. But we might get more interest in the younger crowd if we try that. If we have to separate the competitions.”
“Maybe. You going to The Wheel House later, play some washers?”
“I told you I have work to catch up on.”
“Maybe you can take a break.”
She rolled her eyes. “This is a real job, Austin, one I like doing. But I don't get paid if I don't get the work done, and I have deadlines, just like the authors do, to get the books to publication. Would you be so cavalier if I was editing another kind of book? Or is it just romance you’re so dismissive of?”
He sat back, surprised by her outburst. “I’m sorry. I don't mean to sound that way.” He’d just wanted to see more of her. “I guess I didn't realize the pressure involved in editing.”
“It’s something you have to be able to concentrate to do, and you have to keep to the schedule to make the publishing date. The author can’t fall behind, and neither can I. I have three projects in various stages right now. One is due this week.”
“How did you get into it?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and dug back into her pancakes. “I saw an ad online. Hard to find jobs in the middle of nowhere, and I needed additional income as well as something to occupy my mind. This seemed perfect.”
“Did you read a lot of romance before? I mean, to know the style?”
