Caleb shoots me a look I’m probably supposed to understand but don’t.
“Yeah, I’ve got some.” He scoots out from behind the desk, his chair making a loud scraping noise. Bumping his shoulder into mine, he shoots me another look on his way out the door.
When did people start only talking with their eyes?
I sit down in the spot Caleb vacated and drop my head onto my hands. What is wrong with me? If I asked my mom or sister, they could probably go on for days.
“What’s your name?”
I jerk back in my chair, only catching myself from tipping over at the last moment. It’s the kid. Crew.
“I’m Ward,” I say.
“That’s a weird name.” He jumps up on the chair opposite me. “I’m Crew. I’m four.”
“Really?” I relax into my chair, the tension from the day rolling off me in waves. “Four, huh? That’s a big deal.”
“I’m a big deal.” He shrugs then leans over the desk. “What ya doing?”
“Just paperwork. But it’s not very fun.”
He bounces on his knees and I worry he’s going to fall off the chair. “Then don’t do it.”
I wish it were that simple. Ah, what the heck, maybe it can be. Just for tonight. I push the papers to the side and look at him. “Alright. What should I do instead?”
He purses his lips and puts his finger on his chin. “Can I drive a fire truck?”
“Do you know how to drive?” I stare him down, but he’s not intimidated.
He shrugs innocently. “I would if you teach me.”
He’s smart. And he’s sold me on the idea. “How about we just look today, and drive another time?”
His eyes light up. They are blue, just like his mom’s. But where Lyndi’s have tiny flecks of green around the irises, Crew’s are solid. His complexion is a little darker than his mom’s, and he has no mesmerizing freckles on his nose.
“Okay!” He bolts out of his seat, and I run to catch up to him. I don’t even have to help him climb into the truck. He monkeys his way up the side, very impressively, I might add, and sits squarely in the driver’s seat. I guess I know my place.
I round the other side, but not before Crew manages to find the siren. I duck my head and cover my ears, then bolt for the truck door.
“Crew, my man.” I slide into the cab and shut off the siren. “You were supposed to wait for me.”
He gives me a big cheeky grin and giggles. “Oops.”
I shake my head. Lyndi was right. He is lucky he’s cute. With that smile, he could get away with anything.
“Okay. Rule number one: hold onto the steering wheel. A good driver never lets go of the wheel.” I direct him.
He nods and grips the steering wheel, his small arms stretched in opposite directions to reach the edges.
“Now you need to keep your eyes on the road.”
“But we aren’t on the road.”
“We have to practice, remember?”
“Right.” He sits up straighter to see over the dash. But he’s too short and slumps back in his seat. “I’m bored. Can I shoot the hose now?”
Apparently, I’m not very entertaining.
