Dad chuckled. “That was whenInoticedher. It took me a while to impress her with the fact that I wanted to do more than fix her tire.”
I slid my book back on the couch and sat down. “Like how long?”
Dad sank into his recliner and scratched his ear thoughtfully. “Couple of months. I’d talk to her whenever I saw her at school, and she was sweet to me, but no more. It wasn’t like she forgot that I helped her, but she didn’t act like she noticed me. Finally, I discovered that she would sneak off to the school library during lunch every day, so I started doing the same. Took me about two weeks of sitting at the same table before she caught on. Finally, one day I got there before her and checked out the book I knew she would want to read.” He pointed at my book. “Jane Austen. When she got there and started looking on the shelves, I handed it to her and told her she could have it if I could take her to a movie sometime.”
I laughed. “It took all that? How could she be that oblivious?”
Dad raised his eyebrows and gave me a look. “I have no idea.”
“Oh, wait, we’re talking about me now?”
“Well, you’re just like your mom in all the best ways. But maybe you have one or two of her faults, too,” he said with a tender grin.
“I don’t call it a fault not to go crazy over every guy I meet.”
“Not at all.” He picked up a magazine and started to leaf through it. He wasn’t fooling me. He couldn’t read that small print without his glasses on. “So, did I hear a rumor about someone trying to get your attention?”
There it was. I smiled and tucked my feet up on the cushion. “Austen Conrad.”
Dad’s magazine dropped, and his smile faded. “The tractor guy?”
“That’s the one.”
He rubbed his chin and stared at the wall, sighing. “That’s… ahem. Not what I was expecting. How did that happen?”
“I saw him in town last night, and we talked for a while. He’s a great guy. I think you’d like him.”
Dad was frowning and fumbling with his magazine. “Oh. Oh, yes, I’m sure I would. That’s… that’s all that happened yesterday?”
“Well, I guess so. What else could there be?”
He kept stroking his jaw. “Nothing. I just thought there was something else.”
“Not that I know of,” I laughed. “So… I’m going out with Austen this evening. Just dinner, that’s all. There’s still spaghetti in the fridge if you don’t want to cook, or I can make you something before I go.”
He shook his head and picked the magazine up again. “I’ll be fine. You just go and have a good time.”
Chapter 11
Dusty
Iwasgoingtostrangle him. Slowly. I ground my fingers into my eyes again and threw my hand in the air.
“Look, just… just talk to her! You don’t need to bone up on nineteenth-century literature. She’s smart and kind, and she’ll be right there at the table listening to you. What’s the problem?”
“I told you. She looks sweet and all, but she’s a tough nut to crack. You know her, don’t you? She’s like talking to an airline ticketing agent.”
“What in the world is that supposed to mean?”
“Friendly, smooth, even-tempered, never ruffled. She doesn’t get mad, she doesn’t get sad. She just plays all her cards close and doesn’t let anything bother her.”
I sighed and rubbed my chin in thought. “Okay, maybe. She’s pretty easy-going.”
“And nothing gets to her, right? Not even the good stuff. Now, I finally found a crack in the wall, and I need to figure out what’s behind it. So, what do I say?”
“I don’t know. What’s so wrong with just being yourself? If regular old ‘you’ wasn’t good enough to catch her attention before, what makes you think you’ll be able to keep it when she gets to know you?”
“I told you, I just need to widen that crack a bit. See if there’s something there. Dude!” He slapped the table. “I know what I need. I’ll give her a poem or something.”