Page 67 of Dandelion Sighs

“Thelma and Louise? Yes.”

She bit back a grin and eyed both massive webs. “All right. I was dreading ruining all their hard work anyway.”

“They just have to leave it alone through part of September. Then you can claim it’s Halloween decor.”

“Ooh, I like that. When it frosts, they’ll be gorgeous.” She wrestled the door open again.

I jogged up the steps, but I didn’t get there in time to help her. She put the supplies in the closet that had a shiny new lock on it so housekeeping didn’t have to haul supplies back and forth.

“You coming to town with me?” I asked. “We can grab a bite to eat.”

She pushed her hair back. I liked this look on her. I liked all her looks, but a simple college shirt and athletic shorts teased at her curves. She was herself. Her face had color instead of the pensive worry she’d carried around much of the summer.

“I could use a break, yeah. We made good time.”

Now I could steal her away like I’d wanted to all week.

We went to town and dropped off the boxes with the thrift store, then I went straight to Rattler’s.

Sheridan straightened in her seat. “It’s been forever since I’ve been here.”

“You’re long overdue, then.”

Inside, the cool AC swallowed us. It had to look the same to Sheridan. The place hadn’t changed from the long counter lined with stools to the booths along the wall. The high-school-aged hostess led us to a booth by the windows and set a menu in front of each of us. I didn’t need one.

She pored over hers. “This all looks so good. What do you get?”

“Depends on how I feel, but usually a porterhouse with mashed potatoes. Unless I’m here on prime rib night. Then I get the king.”

“Sounds like I’d need a nap afterward.” She tapped a nail on a picture of a wrap. “Steak wrap with their special aioli.” She shoved her menu away.

“Want an appetizer?”

“I want all of them, but I’m not that hungry.”

“What about dessert?” Something about being here with her made me want to make this more special than just two people stopping for lunch. We’d been so caught up in preparing the cabin that we hadn’t done anything together. And Sheridan was fun to hang with.

“That wrap looks huge. And that”—she slid the menu back over—“s’mores lava cake looks almost as big. I haven’t had s’mores yet this year.”

“We’ll have to change that.”

She lifted a shoulder. “I only need to get the supplies. I’ve been making them in the microwave when I want some.”

“Sheridan ‘I Don’t Know Your Middle Name’ Bishop. You don’t use a campfire?” I put my hands flat on the tabletop.

“It’s Frances, and it’s been a while.” She leaned forward, putting a hand by her mouth. “Why? Is it illegal?”

“It should be.” I shook my head. I’m only scandalized because that meant she hadn’t been out in the summer, having fun and roasting marshmallows. “We’re doing it tonight.”

“S’mores?”

“Yep.”

“Where?”

“The new firepit I made.”

She frowned. “That’s for guests.”