Fuck.Ididsay that.
Sheleaned across the center console toward me and I swallowed. “And the next timeyoushout over Dave Grohl, I’m kicking you out and stealing your fancy car.”
Satisfiedwith having the final word, Tabby fell back into the seat, crossing her legsand folding her arms over her chest. If I had turned all of my attention toputting the truck back onto the road and driving to Greyson’s school, I mightnot have noticed the crimson flush splotching over her cheeks. I might’vemissed the lick of her lips, or the fluttered palpitation in the base of herthroat.
ButI didn’t.
Ipicked up on every one of those hints that this was more than just a heateddispute between two opposites. This was a dance. Flirtation. I wasn’t sure shecould honestly acknowledge it for what it was yet, but the evidence was writtenclearly in every nervous twist of her fingers and every bite of her bottom lip.
Shewanted me. Or at least her body did, and whether or not I’d give it to her …
Well,I hadn’t decided yet.
***
“Where’s your car?” Greyson asked,scanning his eyes over the Range Rover.
“Sebastianis too gargantuan to fit into my very normal-sized car,” Tabby explained with asarcastic bite.
“Yourcarispretty tiny,” he disputed, and I held my hand up to him.
“Highfive, kid. I knew you couldn’t sit comfortably in that thing.”
Tomy surprise, he didn’t leave me hanging. Acting as though it was aninconvenience, his hand clapped against mine, while his lips twitched with asmile.
Iopened the back door for him as he asked what we were doing for the night. Icould only shrug, because, well, what the hell do you do in a town called HogHill, anyway?
“Anysuggestions, Thumbelina?” I looked to Tabby, raising an eyebrow and flashingher a lopsided smile.
Shehesitated, her attention occupied by weaving her long hair into a neat braid.The auburn rope hung over her shoulder, glistening under the sunlight in tonesof copper and ruby, and it took every ounce of my willpower to not pull therubber band from the end. To not let it cascade in waves against her back andshoulders. To not thrust my fingers into it, tangle it around my hands, and messit up.
“Um,well, maybe Sebastian wants to see your drums,” she offered to Greyson as shethen climbed into the car.
Hisdrums. Why hadn’t I thought about that? Was there a better way to bond with himthan the thing I knew best?
Iran to the drivers’ side and glanced into the backseat. “Uh, yes. Let’s dothat.”
“Sure,”Greyson grumbled, painting his face with indifference.
Idrove Tabby to her car, where she and Greyson left my truck to drive themselveshome. I followed, once again finding myself alone and realizing how nice it wasto have other people drive with me.
***
Tabby’shouse was exactly what I would’ve imagined. Neat. Orderly. A Pottery Barncatalogue had thrown up all over her kitchen and living room, and the air was lightlyscented with Fresh Linen and Seaside Escape, as proven by the candles on hercoffee table. But with a watchful eye, I hunted for little hints of the secretparts of herself. They were well camouflaged, buried within the makings of aBetterHomes & Gardensspread, but they were there. The leopard print pillowon the easy chair by the window. The multi-colored collection of Chucks hiddenon a low shelf in the front entryway. The leather jacket hanging in the closet,just noticeable through the barely jarred door.
Tinypieces that she couldn’t quite let go of from a previous life.
“Greyson’sroom is upstairs,” Tabby told me, catching me perusing the shelves of recordsin her living room.
“Ah,right.” I nodded, sliding one out, checking the title. “Quite a collection youhave here.”
Shehad a bit of everything, from Marley to U2 to The Clash, all in alphabeticalorder. Her record collection was kept like everything else in her life I’d seenso far—neatly. But unlike her arsenal of Converse, or the leather jacket in thecloset, she kept these on proud display. They were dusted and treasured, kepton shelves that encompassed an entire wall of her living room.
“Thanks,”she quickly said, taking the record from my hands and putting it back in itsplace. “I’ve been collecting for years.”
“Obviously.”I grinned, taking another from the shelf. Nirvana’sIn Utero. “This is agreat album.”
“Yes,it is,” she agreed, plucking it from my grasp and sliding it back with herother Nirvana albums. “Greyson’s waiting for you.”
