Honey followed the lights of the motorcycle in front of her. So far this date was weird. Odd. Morgan had arrived at The Corner just before she was scheduled to get off work. It had started sprinkling, and he didn’t have an extra helmet, so he suggested she follow him in her car.

“Great start. I’m alone in the car, and I’m following him into the unknown.” Honey said out loud to her empty car.

“I should have told Lana where I was going or something. It looks like he’s taking me out into the wilds to off me.” Honey overdramatized her narrative as she followed the bike’s tail lights around corners. Verbalizing her worst fears made it all sound ridiculous. The light sprinkling turned into a drizzle as the sun set. The night grew darker and wetter.

Honey stopped the car in front of a long vintage trailer. The aluminum siding gleamed like brushed silver in her headlights. She could tell the trailer was an Air Stream by the shape. It appeared to be new.

Morgan dismounted his bike and approached Honey’s driver-side door. “I wanted to show off my little project. Come on in.” He opened the door to the trailer and gestured for her to step inside.

Morgan switched on the lights. Recessed lamps running the entire length of the ceiling lit up the interior space. “I’ve been revamping this for a few months,” Morgan said. “It’s not done yet, but I needed someplace to live while on location for this job. I’ll finish it after I’m done here in Monterey.”

She and Morgan stood in the kitchen. Honey didn’t know what to expect, but this was not like the interior of any camper trailer she had ever been in. The interior encompassed one wide open space. The kitchen was the only area where the renovation appeared to be complete. The pale blond wood cabinets and gas range were obviously new and recently installed. Clear blue tiles had been partially installed as a backsplash, and the counter tops were a silvery gray. To Honey’s right, a folding table and a chair occupied the space under a bank of windows. The kitchen configuration made a small L-shape that separated the kitchen area from the next open space.

“You aren’t restoring this, are you?” she asked as she looked around.

“No, I think the original spaces are broken up awkwardly. I was going to gut it anyway, so it helped that it was in bad shape when I found it.”

Honey noticed Morgan wasn’t standing fully upright. He dominated the space, filling it completely.

“You barely fit in here.”

He patted the ceiling, “I don’t stand up much inside. Usually, I’m sitting down or asleep.”

“You have no bathroom door.” Honey pointed to a shower curtain hanging across the end wall.

“Yeah,” Morgan chuckled. “I didn’t get to the back wall yet. I got lucky that this one originally had a rear bath, so I didn’t have to completely rework the plumbing. I had to restore it, but that’s easier than having to move and re-plumb things.” Morgan stepped past Honey to indicate with his hands the bath area that featured a large jacuzzi tub. “I’m going to put in a bank of cabinets here. The same wood as in the kitchen.” He motioned to the area next to the toilet and across half the width of the trailer. “Then I’ll finish right here with a folding wall that will tuck in.” Morgan swung the large screen television out and away from the wall. “I’ll be able to watch movies from the tub.”

The tub aspect surprised Honey. “You like baths?”

“Sore muscles from work like a good soak. Yes, I like baths.” Morgan huffed. “I still have to add a shower. Right now the only plumbing that works back here is the toilet.”

Honey nodded in appreciation of this new information about Morgan. Baths. She added it to her mental list: art, no lemons, no chocolate, Orangina, and now baths and remodeling vintage RVs.

“This isn’t the final furniture. I’ll have a fold-out bed here,” Morgan indicated the current worn couch. “I plan to get a pale tan leather sofa and bolt it into place.” He turned and gestured enthusiastically to a space next to the kitchen counter. “There will also be a chair. Right now everything is removable so I can finish the construction when I get home. I don’t have my tools with me so I can’t work on it down here. The kitchen is done, which is why I could bring the trailer out. The tiling on the backsplash needs to be finished, but otherwise, everything works. A table and bench seats will be installed there.” He pointed past the kitchen to the area under the bank of windows. “When it’s finished, it will be a luxury studio apartment on wheels. I can live in here more economically when I have to be on job sites for a prolonged period of time, like my current project.”

“How did you get it here? I didn’t see a truck outside.”

“The company hauled it down here for me. The driver took the truck back with him when he left. I’ll ride my bike back and pick up the truck when it’s time to haul this thing out of here,” Morgan explained.

“So you don’t live in here all the time?” Honey twirled her finger indicating the trailer. Oh gods, what am I doing? He was a construction worker who lived in a trailer. He was nice. He was actually really handsome. And she had assured herself she was past the materialism. Honey breathed deeply, mentally girding her loins as she realized she was falling for a guy who was the antithesis of Bryce. He was genuine; he had a warm smile; he wore plaid. Bryce had an ice cold grin and never wore plaid unless it was underwear. Bryce had also had a very large, very luxurious penthouse apartment in San Francisco. Bryce was also someone to run away from. So far Morgan had been someone to run to.

Lana had been right. Honey had to get past a person’s cover, maybe even get past their first chapter. She was well past Morgan’s first chapter, and she had started to freak out. They had similar ideals; he liked her tattoos even though he didn’t have any. But he lived in a trailer and wore plaid. She started to pull into herself. Maybe she couldn’t do this. She couldn’t see herself living in a trailer with a man who wore plaid. The construction work she could handle. She just wasn’t sure about the rest of his foibles. She scoffed at herself. They had barely had a real date yet, and she was already thinking about living with him.

“No, this is temporary location living. I have a regular apartment at home.”

Honey sighed in relief. Somehow she had got it into her mind that Morgan lived in the trailer permanently, even though he had said otherwise. More than once.

* * *

Morgan sensed a shift in Honey as he showed her the trailer. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe she wasn’t impressed with his renovation abilities. She became quiet, and her posture slumped.. Time to charm her properly. He hadn’t planned this date very well; he hadn’t thought about dinner. He opened the refrigerator to see if he had enough to make her a dinner. That should impress her. He wanted to show her he was capable of building, cooking, providing.

“How does steak and green beans sound?” he asked as he stood up from looking in the refrigerator.

“You’re going to cook?” Honey asked a little nervously.

“Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, sure.” Honey hesitated. “Uhm, I have to use the bathroom, and…” She paused pointing at the shower curtain.

Morgan nodded in understanding. “I’ll step outside. You can let me know when you’re finished. The sink back there isn’t hooked up yet, so use the kitchen sink to wash your hands.” Morgan saw Honey nodding as he stepped outside.

Rain drizzled on him as he waited next to the door while Honey did her business. Okay, asshole, this may not have been the smartest move to make. You’re trying to impress the girl, not scare her off. Face it, you have gone creepy. Cooking for her in a rundown trailer—bad move.

The trailer door opened behind him. “All set, thanks,” Honey said as he stepped in. “Hey, I saw you had some pictures posted up back there. Are those the ideas for how the interior is going to look when it’s done?”

“Thats exactly what those are for. Help to remind me there is a reason to finish this project.”

“This should be really nice when it’s done.” Honey nodded, a smile finally crossing her lips, the first smile since he brought her here, and more notably, she was glowing again. A soft golden aura surrounded Honey. Morgan couldn’t blame the lighting this time.

“Why don’t you have a seat, and I’ll start grilling these steaks.” His throat went dry as he tried to focus on making dinner. Honey continued to glow. Suddenly, it became very important to make a good impression on her.

“I should offer to help, but the kitchen area is barely big enough for you,” Honey said from her perch on the couch.

Morgan chuckled. “Yeah it is tight, but I can’t help it. I’ve always wanted an Air Stream.”

He placed the steaks on a plate and sprinkled them with salt and pepper. While they sat warming up, Morgan chopped an onion and mixed it in with the green beans and added some garlic. Between tasks, Morgan kept glancing at Honey to see if she still glowed. A smile played across his lips.

The click-click-click sound of the gas range not lighting started to annoy Morgan. This range had always been easy to light. Being new, it had not given him any problems. Until now, when I’m trying it impress Honey. And she’s glowing.

It dawned on Morgan that he had been thinking he needed to protect her, that she needed him, when in reality he needed her. He looked at her, the light surrounding Honey seemed to jump across the small space and pierce him. Light exploded behind his eyes as realization of her importance to him spread throughout his being. He stopped fiddling with the range and stared at the wall in front of him. It really felt like a hit upside the head. He glanced back over at Honey sitting on the ratty couch. She radiated soft light. She was his. He smiled to himself.

She was surrounded by what could only be the mate aura—something Morgan had only thought of as a family myth. No wonder he hadn’t recognized it earlier. He was a clueless clot. The mate aura, as he understood it, was a visible glow surrounding the best possible mate for one of his kind. The fates were telling him she was the one he needed. Now he needed to convince her that she needed him. It certainly didn’t look like that was going to happen tonight.

Click-click-click. The range would not light.

“Sounds like it’s not getting any gas.” Honey chimed in. “At least, that’s what my stove does at home when the gas gets messed up.”

“Fuck,” Morgan grumbled. He checked the settings for the propane on the read-out above the stove. It didn’t light up at all. That meant the hook up had somehow disconnected and no pressure was being read or—Morgan groaned—it meant there was no pressure at all. When had he last replaced the tank? He couldn’t even remember.

“Great. I’m out of propane. No cooking tonight.”

Honey sighed.

“Sorry, my big impressive plan fizzled out.” Morgan thought fast on his feet. He hadn’t any plan to begin with. He needed to compensate for this flop. “There’s a nice-looking family restaurant just up the road. How about we go there instead?”

“Sure.” Honey said as she stood up, slinging her purse onto her shoulder.

Morgan slid the steaks and vegetables back into the refrigerator. “You don’t mind driving, do you?”

* * *

“This doesn’t look too promising, Morgan. Have you been here before?” Honey squinted through the rain speckled windshield at the building with no lights.

Morgan shook his head. “Hold on.” He got out of the car and poked around the front of the restaurant. It appeared to have been closed for a while.

He got back in the car. “I guess I never noticed it’s been closed all this time. I just saw restaurant, ya’ know.”

Honey nodded, pursing her lips. “Any place else?”

“Let’s just drive around and see if we can find something.” Morgan ran his fingers through his hair. He seemed nervous —or maybe he was getting frustrated with her.

After driving around for over half an hour, Honey pulled into the parking lot of a fast food chain.

“Food,” she announced. “It’s fast food, but it will have to do.”

Honey found a table and wiped it down with a handful of napkins. The interior of this franchise location had clearly seen better days.

Morgan slid the tray with her food onto the table in front of her. She shoved a handful of french fries into her mouth and began unwrapping her sandwich.

“Sorry about dinner.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled, peeking under the bun of her sandwich. She tossed the tray away from her in frustration. “It’s fried. I said grilled. Grilled chicken. It’s not that hard.”

Morgan slid the tray toward him. “I’ll have them fix that.” He picked up the offending article and approached the counter. Returning a few minutes later, he placed a fresh-grilled sandwich in front of her.

Honey frowned at the new version, then proceeded to eat the chicken breast and tomato, leaving the bread.

They ate in strained silence.

“I’m going to need more fries,” she announced as she emptied the container in front of her.

“More fries?” he asked.

She thought he had given her that look, that I’m judging you and the food you eat look. She didn’t react well to that look. She was hangry—hungry and angry—and this date was not going well.

She nodded sharply.

“Are you sure you want fries? Anything else while I’m up?”

“What? You don’t think my fat ass needs more fries?” Honey replied tersely.

“I don’t think your ass is fat, and I meant did you want a sundae or something. I thought I might get one.” Morgan’s tone was even, controlled. This date was crashing and burning around her.

“Sundae, extra fudge, no nuts,” Honey muttered, abashed.

She blinked up at him as he delivered another order of fries and a fudge sundae.

“Thank you,” she muttered.

Uncertainty about the feelings that had accosted her in Morgan’s trailer, then the hunger and anger over the food situation had made everything worse. She noticed Morgan hadn’t finished his sundae when they got up to leave.

“Thank you for coming up to see the Air Stream. I’m sorry dinner didn’t work out.”

Honey didn’t say anything. She held onto the steering wheel and focused in front of the car looking out the windshield. She didn’t think she could look at Morgan right now. She was embarrassed at her behavior.

Morgan paused before getting out of the car.

The door closed and Honey backed out, turning her car onto the road. She sank emotionally as she drove home. No good night kiss, not even a hug. What a royal cock-up. Windshield wipers swishing rain from her view. Too bad they couldn’t swipe away the dread that had settled on her.