I’d just gotten out of my paint splattered jeans and T-shirt when I heard tires crunching over the gravel driveway out front. My brain knew this wasn’t a real date, but tell that to my feet practically dancing right off the old hardwood floor that needed to be sanded and refinished. I threw on a cropped sweater and ripped jeans, heading to get the door on bare feet. There was no doorbell, and I wasn’t confident in the front door withstanding a knock from a grown man, so I figured I’d better meet him as he got out of his car.“Hey, boyfriend!” I called out as I stepped onto the front porch.Lincoln looked up as he unfolded his frame from one of those quiet electric cars that snuck up on me when I went on my runs. He smiled at me, a lock of his thick, unruly hair sliding onto his forehead. With the vineyard behind him and the golden hour sunlight filtering through the trees in the front yard, he looked like he was posing for a magazine.“We might need to work on our nicknames,” was all
“Talking?” I walked over to have a seat next to him. I didn’t mean to frustrate him, but I did think getting to know each other would help sell this fake relationship. I didn’t want to meet his mom without some cursory knowledge of my supposed boyfriend.Lincoln nodded, no longer meeting my gaze. “Yes. Talking. Communicating. Knowing what to say when.”I shrugged, feeling for him. “Just say whatever you want. We’re not actually dating, Lincoln.” I put my hand on his knee and felt him flinch at my touch. “You can’t hurt my feelings or make me break up with you. That’s the beauty of our arrangement. Just be yourself, okay?”Lincoln tilted his head and shrugged. “Okay. If Paint It, Pal isn’t your dream job, what is?”I grinned just thinking about it. “Great question. I want to own my own business. Be independent. Make my own choices.” I leaned closer like my innermost dreams were a secret that needed to be whispered. “I actually think the paint thing would be cool for adults. Half wine b
“You’re sure she’s coming?” Mom asked me for the thousandth time, looking anxiously around as guests began arriving for the event she’d just decided would be called “Friday Fling.” There were people milling around outside the winery, a band set up on a low stage at the edge of the parking lot, and food trucks lining the drive. It was warm and the sun was just beginning its sweep down the western sky.I’d known Hannah only a few days, but she didn’t seem like the type who would say she’d be somewhere and then not come. “I’m sure.”Mom went back to fussing with the centerpiece on one of the long picnic tables, and just as I leaned in to help her, a sound like a shot rang out through the air. A few people nearby screamed, and without meaning to do it, I’d leapt over the table and pressed my mother to the ground, evidently planning to take a bullet for her if necessary.“Lincoln, get off!” Mom complained, pushing me off of her as we both realized it hadn’t been a gunshot, but a car backfi
Oh, no. My brain was screaming “abort,” but my body kept swaying to the music, inching ever closer to Lincoln like a moth to Aunt Betty’s old closet. Lincoln’s mom was so sweet and even if I felt she was a little over involved in her son’s lives, I guessed being recently widowed could do that to a person. But Pam’s over involvement was not to blame for me grabbing Lincoln and dragging him on to the makeshift dance floor. Some long- buried hormones were responsible for that wrong move, and I’d be having a stern talking to with them later tonight.Conversation between us died as we swayed on the edges of the dance floor, but maybe it was because our bodies were doing all the communicating. Unlike some of our conversations, absolutely none of this dance was awkward. And for a guy who didn’t want to dance, he sure stayed out there a long time. Other than breaks for food and conversation he couldn’t get out of, Lincoln kept us out on the dance floor. The band was winding down by the time I
My mind does its best work when I’ve spent a couple hours pushing my body through hard labor. Whether it's hauling boxes in the warehouse or— my preference—putting in time under the sun along the endless marching rows of a vineyard, something about the physical activity helps my mind calm a bit.I’d found that same kind of mental peace in the gym or through running. I wasn’t a guy who had a calm, quiet mind naturally. I’d actually tried meditation at one point in college when I was struggling with focusing for classes, but what I’d found was that the hamsters constantly turning those mental wheels only slept if they were completely worn out.So when Mom called after I’d spent a few long sweaty hours in the vineyard working with Hannah, I’d accepted her dinner reservation as I imagined most normal guys who were interested in impressing a woman might.But as I showered and dressed back at my house, recovering both physically and mentally from the day’s exertion, the hamsters got back to
Why, oh why did the normally awkward and frustrated with general conversation Lincoln have to look so dang good dressed up? He looked like some sort of GQ cover model who’d come to sweep me off my feet with his perfectly tousled hair, square jaw, and smoking finger. Okay, the finger was my fault. Or technically Aunt Betty’s for never fixing the doorbell, but Lincoln’s overall presentation was smoking hot, which meant I was officially screwed for tonight. How could I be expected to remember he was only my fake boyfriend when he told me I was beautiful right before nearly slamming the door in my face yet again?“Hannah?”Lincoln’s voice jolted me from my thoughts. I was trying to remember some jokes from when I used to babysit in high school for extra cash, but so far all I had was “knock-knock.” I couldn’t remember the rest, which was truly sad since there were like a million knock-knock jokes to choose from.“Sorry, what?”He twisted the side of his lips up, probably amused that it wa
The server gave me a very irritated look when I asked if we might take our food to go and informed me that when you make a reservation, the expectation is that you will stay and eat. It occurred to me as she walked away, her back so straight I was a little worried for her spine, that if we took our rather expensive meal to go, she wouldn’t get a tip for serving us.I mean, of course, I would tip her. But she didn’t know that. So far, our table had shown all the signs of big trouble, which every restaurant server dreads, I’m sure. The table was flooded, we’d made out like teenagers, and now one person had left the table to hide in the bathroom.Hannah returned a few minutes later, and I’d done my best to pep talk myself into the ability to vocalize actual words once again.“Hi,” I said, looking up at her. She stood beside where I sat, her hair waved over one shoulder and her eyes shining with expectation.“Ready?” she asked. “Oh, we probably need to wait for the food, right?” She grinn
My insides warmed and jittered around in a very distracting way, and I was forced to let go of her hand in order to try to control the physical reactions that were screaming to life within me. “Um. Well, I feel like a lot of people draw on their own eyebrows anyway,” I pointed out.At that moment, our server appeared with our meals, and her drawn-on eyebrows were pulled quite low over her eyes as she took in our new seating arrangement.“You’re both going to sit on one side of the table while you eat, then?” she asked, not waiting for an answer before saying, “How cute,” in a way that indicated she did not think this was especially cute. She picked up all of Hannah’s utensils and moved them to where Hannah now sat at my side and let out a sigh. “Anything else?”“We’re good, thanks,” I said, having a hard time looking at her now that I’d begun thinking too hard about her eyebrows. Hannah elbowed me in the ribs, and I launched into a coughing fit to stop from laughing.“Oookay, then,” t