Page 8 of Catch Yourself a Snowmance
“Four, actually. I’m the middle child. Two extra moms, and two I have to keep an eye on. They complain I’m the main reason they never dated in high school.” I pause and smile over at Alyssa. “I take that as a compliment. They didn’t need the kind of knuckleheads boys are at that age. I did them a favor.”
“So, boys are not knuckleheads after that age?” Alyssa smiles playfully at me from across the car.
“Oh, I’m not implying that at all. I think we’re part knucklehead until we die. Just the proportion decreases with age.”
She giggles and I smile. I like her laugh. She’s easy to be with. Not as uptight as that day she came to my house with Noelle. She seemed offended by my very existence then.
I drive down the winding road past the rental office and take the two-lane highway that heads along through the mountain community until we come to a gravel parking lot lined in pine trees. The building looks like an old-fashioned rural market with a broad wrap-around porch and clapboard siding.
“The Old Mercantile.” I read the sign. “This should be fun.”
“I love places like this,” Alyssa says.
We walk up the wooden steps and I hold the door open for her. The floors are wood plank and the walls have snowshoes and license plates and other memorabilia hanging all over them.
“Welcome to the mercantile!” a man behind the counter shouts over to us.
I wave and smile at him. Alyssa grabs a hand-held basket and pulls the list Noelle gave her out of her pocket.
“Let’s see …” She looks around. “Should we divide and conquer?”
“Nah. I think I’ll just stick close and learn from you.”
“Learn how to shop?” she scrunches up her nose and I take her in for the first time.
Mitch is right. She’s pretty cute. Long brown hair that falls across her red ski jacket. She’s in good shape, but it’s her eyes that get me. Brown eyes with long lashes. And when she crinkles her nose she looks pretty adorable.
“I’m sort of a guy-shopper.”
“A guy shopper … ?”
She stands in place, studying me, so I elaborate. “I’m sure not all men shop like I do, but I’ve been single for a while, so it’s protein bars, protein powder, bread, lunch meat, cheese, eggs, some simple dinner ingredients and enough vegetables to silence the voice of my mom in my head.”
She laughs again and I like it. Making her laugh feels like an accomplishment somehow, even though I get the feeling she laughs a lot.
“Okay, well … I’ve been single for a while too.” She offers. And then she blushes. “Not that you asked. And it’s not pertinent. Just … I shop pretty much for one too.”
“I could have asked. Glad to know.”
She tucks a strand of her silky brown hair behind her ear.
I’m not flirting, am I? I shouldn’t. We’re friends with people who are getting married. Don’t date your friends’ girlfriends’ friends. That’s a life motto—and a mouthful.
I did that once. It nearly ripped Gage and me apart for a minute. But then he broke up with Cindy, so my history with Cindy’s best friend was moot. Still. That was a close call. One I won’t make again.
Alyssa clears her throat. “We’ll start with dairy and work our way to meat and then the dry goods. Maybe you ought to grab a basket too.”
I follow her directions, staring just a little too long into her eyes. She smiles at me and then turns toward the cooler at the end of the aisle.
Alyssa pulls a few bottles of milk out of the fridge. “This stuff is pricey. I guess they have us over a barrel since we’re up the mountain.”
“It’s vacation. I have a few rules on vacation.”
I wink at her and then realize I just winked at her.
“What are your rules?” She places two bottles of milk in my basket and two in hers.
“One: don’t fret too much about prices. Budgeting is for daily life. Vacation is for splurging.”
