The Quietest Shop on Main (Shops on Main #3)

Chapter 9

9

“ I ’m home!” Skyla scrambled through the door, not daring to check the time. She’d had the late afternoon shift at the library today and was now behind in getting home to make dinner, since last night Grandpa had invited the Saunders to come over again.

Skyla didn’t mind. Not really, but her fridge and pantry didn’t yet reflect the fact that she had guests for the second time in a week.

She really needed to go to the grocery store, but when was she supposed to find the time?

“Should just have it delivered,” she muttered to herself, grabbing an apron as she rushed into the kitchen. Throwing open the fridge door, she stood there, tapping her foot. “What to fix, what to fix?”

Scrunching her nose, Skyla realized she was going to have to use something frozen, even though it would take longer. If she’d been on the ball, she’d have gotten something ready last night, but she’d fallen into bed, exhausted, after Dalton and Analiese had left.

Then gotten up and worked a full day at the library. Planning dinner had been on the back of her mind all day, but more immediate needs had always taken precedence.

Now she had…Skyla glanced at her watch. “Forty-five minutes. I can cook chicken in that time. Maybe.”

Hopefully, the Saunders would understand if it took a little longer than planned.

Skyla grabbed some chicken breasts and threw them in the microwave to try and thaw them a bit before shoving them in the oven. Next, she grabbed a bag of red potatoes. If she cut them a little smaller, they’d roast up just fine in the time given. Lastly…lastly what? Two things felt awkward. She needed a third thing to round out the meal. She had protein and carbs. A fruit? Did she have fruit?

Skyla went to the pantry and studied her shelves. Wow…she was low on things. Time to stock up for the winter. But maybe…there!

“Whew.” She grabbed the jar of applesauce. It wasn’t her first choice, but maybe if she warmed it up with a little cinnamon, it would be fine.

Analiese had said she didn’t cook at all, so hopefully Skyla’s oddball meal wouldn’t be considered too bad.

“That’s fine,” she muttered under her breath as she began scrubbing potatoes. “Unless you’re trying to impress someone.”

Her heart jolted as she remembered Dalton’s invitation last night. He had asked her on a date! Sort of. Yes? Maybe.

Ugh.

Skyla shook her head. “He called it a date. So, it’s a date.”

But he asked her to go fishing, which was far from romantic, and he added on that she could see if her grandfather could handle it. Was it really a date? Or just a convenient way to help with Grandpa? Dalton seemed to enjoy playing knight in shining armor. Was that all this was? Or did he really have an interest in her?

On one hand, he’d been clear just a few days ago that he wasn’t asking her out.

Now he made it clear he was asking her out.

Which one was right?

“Why is this so complicated?” she continued to speak to herself.

Blowing out a breath, Skyla decided to focus on the here and now. She’d agreed to go fishing, though they hadn’t set a date. Maybe her questions would all be answered on the boat. If Dalton made a move, she’d know he liked her. If he didn’t…well…Skyla cleared her throat.

Maybe it was better to prepare herself for heartache now.

They’d been friends for a long time now, and he’d never shown any interest before. Why the sudden change? Or was there a change?

“Oh my word,” she breathed, grabbing a knife to start cutting the potatoes into wedges. “You’re overthinking this. Just let it happen. Let it play out. And if he’s not really interested, then you can…you can just keep being his friend.”

She swallowed hard, the thought more painful than she wanted to admit. Being unsure about his feelings was almost worse than him simply not being interested. At least before, Skyla was pretty sure where she stood. The uncertainty made things far more complicated.

The oven beeped that it had reached its temperature, and Skyla set the timer, then paused. “Grandpa?”

She’d been so busy since getting home that she hadn’t realized he’d never responded to her arrival.

Skyla looked down the hall. “Grandpa?” When he still didn’t answer, Skyla began walking down the hall, stopping in front of his door. She paused, listening intently, but she couldn’t hear anything.

Slightly hesitant, but not knowing what else to do, she knocked.

Still no answer.

“Grandpa?” Skyla knocked louder, then opened the door. It was dark, forcing her to turn on the light. “Grandpa?”

A grunt from the bed caught her attention, and she walked farther in. “Grandpa? Are you alright?”

With a snort, Grandpa rolled over, poking his head out from the covers. “Skyla?” he asked before yawning. “What’s going on?”

“The Saunders are coming to dinner,” Skyla said, studying his face. Was he pale again? His nose was pink. Was he getting sick?

Grandpa made a face. “What time is it?’

Her eyes widened. “Uh…nearly six-thirty. Are you…” Skyla stepped forward and put the back of her hand to his forehead. “Grandpa, are you sick?” Her stomach flipped. He couldn’t be sick. They only got home from the hospital a week ago. Surely he couldn’t be sick now?

Did she miss another stroke? Was being tired a stroke symptom? She should have asked the doctors what to look for. He wasn’t showing anything similar to his first stroke, but maybe?—

“Guess I lost track of time.” Grandpa shooed her away. “Go away so I can get out of bed.”

“But—”

Grandpa’s glare shut Skyla up, but it did nothing to appease her worry. Pressing her lips together, she nodded and left the room, hesitating for a minute at the door. Maybe she needed to call the Saunders? What if Grandpa was coming down with something contagious? Would he tell her if he didn’t feel good?

Honestly, Skyla had no idea. Grandpa could be sweet but also incredibly stubborn. Rubbing her forehead from the beginnings of a headache, she went back to the kitchen.

Really, there was nothing to do but move forward. Grandpa was an adult. If he was sick, surely he’d say something.

Being in bed at dinner time wasn’t normal behavior for him, but maybe he was still recovering from last week.

Yeah…that had to be it. A stroke was kind of a big deal. He just needed rest.

It was all going to be alright.

She hoped.

Dalton bent over and shook his hair before standing and running his fingers through it to comb it.

Analiese snickered. “You’re ridiculous.”

Dalton gave her an unimpressed look. “Last night you dragged me here before I even took off my boots. There’s nothing wrong with showering first. No one likes to stink.”

Analiese leaned close. “You mean no one likes to stink in front of their crush.”

Dalton met her, nose to nose. “And just who do you not want to stink in front of, hm?” Analiese jerked back so fast that it left Dalton blinking at nothing. He’d meant the comment as a joke, but somehow, Dalton knew he’d hit a nerve.

Could his musings that she liked Montoya be correct?

It was probably detrimental to his health to ask.

Before either of them could speak again, the door opened, and Dalton once again became a bumbling teenage boy meeting his dream girl.

“Analiese,” Skyla said softly. “Dalton. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I didn’t try to burn the house down tonight,” Analiese said as they entered. “But I’m volunteering Dalton for dishes, so make sure you leave things really dirty.”

Dalton tried to take down his sister by lasering his eyes into the back of her head, but he was quickly distracted by Skyla’s laugh. Gosh, he could listen to that all day. It warmed him far better than any cup of cider.

“Sounds like we’re working together again,” Skyla said to Dalton, smiling at him as he stepped inside.

“Sounds like.” He rubbed the back of his neck and held up a thermos. “We brought some of our family cider, though. It’s an old recipe.”

“Oh!” Skyla’s smile widened, and she turned to Analiese. “Is this what you brought me the other day?” Those green eyes turned back to Dalton, and he froze. “She shared it with me when we met at the book shop. It was so good, and she said you made it.”

What the heck was wrong with him? Last night, Dalton had felt in charge and ready. He’d seen the signs he needed to be confident in pushing past the friend boundary between them, but now he was ready to melt like the scarecrow from that movie, who could barely stand up.

How could one day wreak such havoc to his confidence?

He cleared his throat and tightened his knees. Falling into a heap was not the way to win Skyla’s heart. Or any girl’s heart for that matter.

“I’m gonna guess this is it,” he said, grinning.

“Grandpa will love it,” Skyla gushed, closing the door behind him. “And I’m excited to have more. Thanks for bringing it.”

Analiese, to her credit, had slipped farther into the house. Normally, Dalton would have scolded her for being presumptuous, but this time, he was grateful for the moment it gave him with Skyla.

When the beautiful woman reached for the thermos, Dalton held it out but didn’t relinquish it when she tried to lift it. Instead, he used the thermos to pull Skyla closer.

“Thank you for dinner,” Dalton whispered, bringing himself down to her level to keep the conversation more intimate. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy to have us over two nights in a row.”

Her ears. They were a dead giveaway. The fact that she always tucked her hair back gave Dalton a clear view to the pink tips of her ears. His knees automatically strengthened at the boost of confidence.

“I’m glad to have you here,” Skyla offered, looking at him from under her lashes, a small smile causing her pink lips to twitch.

Slowly, Dalton straightened. “I’ll carry this, okay?”

Skyla hesitated, then nodded and let go of the thermos. “Okay.”

Still grinning like an idiot, Dalton followed her into the kitchen area. Mr. Bowen was just coming out of the hallway, and Analiese had already started raiding the cupboards to set the table.

“Sorry,” Analiese said, though her tone said she wasn’t sorry at all. “I’m no help at cooking, so I thought I’d do what I could.”

Okay…sometimes his sister was awesome. Sometimes she was a total pain, but in this moment, Dalton was grateful for her thoughtfulness. Skyla had to be exhausted, and he still felt bad about invading her house twice. It made his night easier, but Skyla’s harder.

The desire to take away that pressure fought with the desire to be closer to her.

Mr. Bowen coughed and sat down at the table. His hair was matted on one side, as if he’d been laying down. He looked slightly pale, and Dalton’s feet slowed, studying the older man.

“You can set it here,” Skyla said, continuing deeper into the kitchen.

Dalton came up to her side, and Skyla gave him a look, causing Dalton to freeze.

“He was sleeping when I came home,” she said in an almost inaudible tone. “I’m…I’m a little worried about him.”

Dalton looked at Mr. Bowen, grateful to see he was talking to Analiese and not hearing the conversation. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” Dalton assured her. His hand twitched with the desire to hold her like he had in the hospital. “It’s going to be alright.”

Skyla pinched her lips and nodded. “Hungry?”

He gave her a small grin. “Starving.”

Skyla relaxed. “I had to throw together something simple tonight, but as soon as I warm up the applesauce, we’re good to go.”

“Warm up the applesauce?” Analiese asked. She stood and walked their way. “Why warm it up?”

“I was going to make red hot applesauce,” Skyla said with a shrug. “It’s my favorite when it’s cold out.”

Dalton frowned. “You’ve lost us.”

“You’ve never had red hot applesauce?” Skyla asked, her eyes wide.

The Saunders siblings both shook their heads.

“Educate them, my Night Sky,” John said, then coughed again. “Apparently, these heathens are ready to see the light.”

“Please tell me Shakespeare really has a saying like that.”

Mr. Bowen chuckled. “A few similar ones, but I wasn’t quoting anything in particular.”

“Pity.” Analiese turned back to Skyla. “Will you show me how to do it?”

“Of course.” Skyla began gathering supplies while Analiese dogged her every footstep.

Dalton made his way to the table, mourning the loss of Skyla’s attention, but once again, finding his feelings growing ever deeper. Skyla was an angel. Not only was she drawing Dalton in like a fish on a hook, but she was somehow getting through to Dalton’s angry sister…seemingly without even trying.

Analiese was more content than Dalton had seen her in years. It eased his guilt about coming over again, now that the evidence of how much it was helping his sister.

Somehow, Dalton would find a way to make it up to Skyla. Some way to say thank you and let her know just how much he was falling for her.

The fishing trip wasn’t a perfect solution, and they were still struggling to find a date that worked for everyone. Maybe there was something he could do in the interim.

He’d have to think about it.

And then he’d make sure Skyla knew exactly how he felt.