Page 19 of Out on a Limb
And this woman was definitely the wrong thing.
I turned away, fighting to ignore the way she was looking at me. “We should get going.”
Collette blinked a few times. “Yeah.” Her head snapped forward as she gripped the wheel. “Yup.”
I stayed silent as she drove us up to the main entrance. Collette parked her cart in the reserved spot painted on the blacktop in faint yellow lines, before grabbing her chicken and sliding out, staying just as quiet as I was.
We went into the gift shop where one of the teenagers hired on for the summer months was manning the counter, checking out purchases of t-shirts and snow globes. Collette checked in with her while fishing her purse from one of the cabinets that created the u-shaped workspace.
I stood at the large glassed-in wall that served as the main entrance and exit for the property, arms crossed as I tried to look as imposing as possible.
That might be my best option when it came to Collette. Show her who I really was. The man I tried to temper to be more palatable for an unforgiving society.
I didn’t smile as she walked my way. “Ready?”
Collette smiled back at me anyway. “Yup.”
I followed as she walked through the lot, going to the area reserved for the Johnsons and anyone deemed worthy of being in their circle. Collette’s Jeep was the only one in the line of spaces. She pulled out her keys, unlocking the doors.
I eyed the leather interior of the brand-new vehicle. “You sure you want a chicken in your car?”
“I had a drunk Sylvia in my last car.” She slid into the driver’s seat, plopping her chicken down on the console before starting the engine and angling one of the vents directly at the fluffy bird. “He can’t be any worse.”
I glanced at the dash as I worked into the passenger’s seat. It had clearly only been occupied by people of the shorter variety, so my legs were crammed right against the sleek dash that made it clear this was not a base-model vehicle. “Who’s Sylvia?”
Collette pursed her lips, head tilting to one side. “That’s a really good question.” Her blonde brows came together. “She’s technically Grant’s grandmother, but she’s also sort of my friend.”
I couldn’t stop my eyes from working Collette’s way and lingering as I tried to work through this new information. “You’re friends with Grant’s grandmother?”
“I think so.” She turned to fully face me. “And a few of her neighbors.”
The tiny worm of hope wiggling around my brain tried to dig deeper.
Collette was friendly with a group of old ladies. Friendly enough that she chauffeured a drunk one around.
And she might have a newly-acquired pet chicken.
Two things most people would probably consider weird.
Abnormal at the very least.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Collette shifted the Jeep into reverse. “They’re actually really fun.” She backed out of the spot without turning around. “And they are the least judgmental people I’ve ever met.”
It was an odd statement.
Or maybe it was odd to me that someone like Collette was worried about being judged. “How’s that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know how they got that way.”
“I mean how do you know they’re not judgmental?” It was something I’d been working to figure out for years. How to identify the people who wouldn’t judge me for being a little different.
Collette’s lips pushed out and her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know. They just don’t judge people.” She peeked my way. “Unless it’s an asshole. They judge assholes.”
There it was.
A word I was familiar with.
Asshole.
