Page 53 of His Build
Lucy smiled at Sam. “Well, I’ve only seen him lift part of a tree, but I’m sure your uncle could do it if he tried hard enough.”
“Yup, that’s what I think,” Sam said. “Can we go inside now? I’m hungry.”
Reality came back like a yoke on Graydon’s shoulders. “Why don’t you two go in, I’ll take Lucy home. Shouldn’t be more than half an hour there and back.”
“Sam’s bedtime is in an hour and a half,” Casey said.
Graydon clenched his jaw. He wanted to tell Casey to back off—she needed to quit getting in his business. He didn’t interrogate her about her personal life.
Then he felt a flush of shame. Casey didn’t have a personal life to speak of because she’d moved to their Grandma’s old hobby farm to get away from Sam’s Dad, a lying, no-good piece of… well, a jerk, anyway. And Casey didn’t really get into his business, she just asked the questions no one else dared to. She cared about him.
“I’ll go as fast as I can. Legally.” Graydon said.
“Please can you stay?” Sam asked Lucy.
Lucy and Graydon exchanged an awkward glance. The truth was, he wanted Lucy to stay. More than anything. But clearly, she did not.
“I’m sorry, Buddy,” Graydon said, trying to save her from answering. “I’m just going to—”
“I do love Shepherd’s pie,” Lucy said. “If there’s enough after Mr. Tree-lifter has had his share.”
Graydon was so surprised at this turn of events he didn’t notice the dig until Casey laughed, shifting the whole mood.
“I’ll make sure to manage his portion,” said Casey. “Come on, Sam. Let’s get inside. It’s still a little nippy after dark this time of year.” She walked ahead of them towards Graydon’s front door.
“Although you two look pretty toasty,” she called over her shoulder with a wink.
Graydon had to keep himself from growling. But then Sam was in front of him with his arms up. Graydon swung down and picked the boy up, throwing him over his shoulder to Sam’s delighted squeals.
“I’m sorry—I really can take you home now if you want,” he said to Lucy.
“Run, Uncle Gray!” Sam said from behind Graydon’s back.
“I need to eat,” Lucy said. “Besides, you’re the one who has to run.”
Sam slapped at Graydon’s back. Graydon pulled away and ran around the field with the boy laughing over his shoulder. The knot in his stomach eased the tiniest bit.
19
By the time they were finished with the Shepherd’s pie, Casey had managed to tell no less than three embarrassing stories about Graydon. One when he was a kid, and he told the teacher he loved her in front of the class (Sam nearly fell off his chair at that one); another when he attempted a proper Christmas dinner at seventeen and the entire Barkley Falls fire department attended their house after he managed to set the turkey on fire; and the third just last year when he almost got trampled by a territorial Alpaca on the hobby farm.
“To be fair,” Graydon said as the women wheezed with laughter, “Mr. Fuzzyneck doesn’t like other men on the property.”
“Mr. Furryneck,” Sam corrected. “And he likes me!”
“You’re right, honey, he loves you,” Casey said, wiping tears from her eyes.
Graydon had been taking the stories like a champ, trying not to defend himself too much. But he couldn’t stop looking at Lucy, and how distant she’d become. Something had happened to her after their time in the barn. The opposite of what had happened to him. He’d felt like their souls had been seared together. But from the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes, it looked like maybe she hadn’t felt the same way. His guts twisted and he pushed up from the table, gathering the dishes. He needed a distraction.
“Anyway, how rude of me,” Casey said as Graydon walked his load of dishes to the counter and began loading them in the dishwasher.
“I’ve been talking all night. Sam, you can watch fifteen minutes of television before we go, okay?”
Sam leapt up from the table, practically flipping his chair over.
“We don’t have a TV at the farm,” she explained after he’d busted through the door so fast there was practically a little Sam-shaped hole there. “I’m all about getting fully back to the land. No distractions, you know? Anyway, there I go again, making things about me. Tell me more about you, Lucy.” Casey leaned back in her chair. “Did you grow up in New York City?”
“Oh no…” Lucy said, the awkwardness in her voice evident even from where Graydon stood. During dinner, there were times Lucy had seemed to be at ease for the first time since the canoe ride earlier that afternoon. Though it had been all Casey’s doing. Casey had a way of disarming everyone with her easy laugh and gift for conversation.
