3.3 (Thursday, Dec. 9, 1999)
“Hey.” I grabbed his arm a little too suddenly and he looked startled. I drew away quickly. “There’s Restoration Hardware. Let’s go in there.” He looked hesitant. “Oh, come on!” This tension was driving me crazy. “You’ll like it. They have old-fashioned gadgets and stuff. It’s a total guy store.” I wanted to loop my arm through his, pull my body close, and steer him toward the door, but after his reaction to my touch on his elbow, I resisted the urge. Instead, I tilted my head toward the door as if to say Let’s not take all night.
Once inside, Tyler went straight to the pocket knife counter. “Hey.” He waved me over to the counter. “I had one of those when I was a kid,” he said, pointing through the glass at a Swiss Army knife complete with spoon and fork extensions.
“Wow, you really are a country boy,” I teased.
He laughed. Finally, I thought.
Something on the wall behind the counter caught his eye. I followed his gaze to a knife with a curved blade about eight inches long, adorned with a handle made out of something like a deer horn. But what did I know? The closest thing I’d seen to a deer was an antelope or something at the zoo.
Lori
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