“Of course. I saw it and immediately thought of you.” Outside the front doors, James asked, “Where are you heading to next?”
I hesitated before answering. There was a possibility that he could be in on the YFGM invoice prank, if it was one. On the other hand, if I confessed that I was going to peek at a place filled with fairy godmothers, or some such thing, so I could figure out my strange, hundred-thousand dollar tab, he might have me shipped off to the funny farm. He was kind and caring in that way.
“I’m checking out a business on tenth and tenth,” I said casually, building a lie as I spoke. I watched James out of the corner of my eye. He was a salt of the earth sweetheart. From what I’d gathered, he came from a perfect and loving family, and he was the type of man a woman married but didn’t date, or whatever the expression was. In other words, James wasn’t a liar and the idea of telling him a mistruth felt like a severe violation of our tentative, museum-based friendship.
“Tenth?” He glanced in the direction I needed to go: south-west. I was still off my target by several blocks.
“Yeah. Joan wants me to do a quick walk-by of a place that’s looking for a few temps for their summer rush.” I cut myself off, remembering something I’d heard about liars always giving too many details.
“Oh.” He nodded, his look one of obvious skepticism.
Notably, there was no flickering hint that he was hiding prank minutiae from me. I was starting to think my friends could apply to the CSIS—Canadian Security Intelligence Service—and get in. If this was a prank, it was something that would have taken some time to put together, and nobody had dropped a single hint over the past several days or weeks. Nary a moment of feigned over-interest in anything, an ill-placed eye twinkle or guilty glance away.
Right. Because it might not be a prank. It could be a scam.
Or it could be real. What would that be like? To have a fairy godmother?
The fact that I was more curious than a rational being should be meant I should keep my mouth shut. My thoughts were my secrets. Especially since they were ones that might get me shipped off to Ponoka’s Centennial Centre to have my grip on reality double-checked by qualified mental health professionals.
I sighed and rubbed my face. This really was a case of identity theft, wasn’t it?
“You okay?” James asked, lightly touching my forearm.
I dropped my hands to my side. “Yeah, of course. Want to tag along?” I perked up at the idea of spending some time walking and talking with James. Plus, having a big guy in a security uniform accompanying me into the unknown was not a bad plan.
He gazed off toward tenth again and winced. “Sorry. Can’t.”
I checked my watch. “Aren’t you done your shift?” Should I admit to knowing his dayshift schedule?
“Yeah. I am.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. His gaze kept darting away like he had a secret.
I gasped. “You have a date!” I gave him a shove, which I’d meant to be playful but surprisingly, given his size, nearly knocked him off balance. Good thing he caught himself, otherwise he could have broken a leg, charged me for assault and then I’d be out of a job—no longer bondable. I shook my head at my silly imagination running wild and muttered, “Sorry.”
Of course he had a date. He was cute. Just because I hadn’t had one in at least eight months, that didn’t mean his love life had to shrivel like a raisin as well.
Sometimes I thought maybe he liked me, but clearly he wasn’t secretly pining for me, waiting for me to make a move.
The man was a hunk of the highest order. I was delusional to even consider that he might be pining for me. James wanted a big, close-knit family and a woman who was steady and calm, and didn’t say awkward, stupid things when she was uncomfortable. Or nearly shove him down a set of stone steps when she was actually happy for him in a sad, wishing-it-was-herself kind of way.
“That’s uh, nice. Are you going to get lucky?” I asked halfheartedly, and immediately wished I hadn’t. Not because I sounded a tad jealous and judgemental, but also because it was absolutely none of my business. Why he still talked to me when he made me so incredibly tongue-tied, awkward and nervous was beyond me. And to think, I was more comfortable around him than most other eligible men. It was a good thing I was already comfortable with my singleness, because it was looking like I’d be this way for the foreseeable future.
“It’s a first date.”
“Sorry. What?”
“I’m not really into one-night stands.”
“I don’t think sleeping together on the first date makes it a one-night stand.”
“Well, in my experience, a relationship never really develops if you jump into things that fast.”
“What do you mean? Like develop emotionally?”
He nodded. “It doesn’t seem to progress beyond the physical.”
“Huh.” I’d always sort of gotten the vibe that James was looking for love, and not just a good time like most men his age, and his confession felt like a verification of my theory. He wanted to move slowly and deeply, and make it last forever.
That was the fantasy, wasn’t it? Too bad it was just that—fantasy.
