They fell into step, an easy pace, headed toward Maggie’s sprawling, raised garden. He could hear the splash and tinkle of the water in the creek from here; could see the tender green leaves of the fruit trees, just now coming in after the blossoms had blown like snow across the parking lot.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be working today,” was the first thing she said. A glance proved her gaze was fixed on the garden, its waving flowers and decorative grasses. “I had breakfast with Ava and Maggie, and they said there was some big to-do happening at church this morning.”
“Some stuff’s going on, yeah.”
“More graffiti?”
He didn’t answer that. He felt protective of his club business, suddenly. If she didn’t take his interest seriously, then he wasn’t going to discuss sensitive topics with her. It was an angry, bitter thought, but an honest one, and he didn’t try to squelch it. “You thought you’d come by and see? You could have texted.”
“I don’t have your number.” He was watching her as they walked, and so he saw her halt, and turn to look at him, her gaze searching in a sharp, pointed way. Assessing him. Not with the hopeful caution of so many women. Her look alone was a question.
He took it as a challenge. Halting, too, turning to face her. He held out his hand. “Here, gimme your phone and I’ll program it in, if you want it.”
She frowned. “You’re pissed.”
He frowned back, curling and loosing his fingers. “Do you want it or not?”
“Are you–” She paused, and let out a deep breath. “Okay, I’m not gonna assume. I did that last night, and I was way off, apparently. I…” Her gaze met his, and her head tipped to a soft angle, her expression gentling. “I think I hurt you, didn’t I? And I don’t mean your pride, butyou.”
Her gaze seemed to go right through him, and he felt naked, suddenly, his anger fizzling away in a rush, leaving him open to nerves, and doubt. He was a teenager again, standing in front of a girl maligned by her peers and unbothered by it. A girl who didn’t give a single solitary damn about his blond hair, and blue eyes, and football jersey. A girl self-possessed and world-weary and confident, and so very, very far out of his league.
His mouth had dried, and he had to wet his lips before could speak. Lying felt like a lot of effort he didn’t possess the faculties for right now. He could hear the faint note of his own voice, but couldn’t alter it. “I guess I thought things were heading a certain way, and that you felt the same, I was wrong.”
“No,” she said, quickly, swaying forward half a step. The spark in his chest flared a little brighter. “No, I – you weren’t wrong. I just thought…”
“That I was a sex fiend? Yeah, you said. Several times.”
She frowned again. “No, it’s…” she said, frustration plucking at her features.Join the club, he thought. He’d been wrestling with this for weeks now, and still had no idea what it was beyond the most nebulous definition of desire.
“Let me start over,” she said, taking a deep breath that seemed to steady her. “Up until a few months ago, I thought I was going to marry Jason and live in Chicago.”
Jason. It was the first time he’d heard her ex’s name, and even if it was a less pretentious name than his own, he immediately conjured a mental image of a douchey guy like the one Ava had brought home from Georgia. An unfair, but satisfying presumption.
“Things had gotten so boring and routine with us, and I thought that was normal. Couples drift; the spark fades. But he was the right kind of guy, you know? Very responsible, and mature, and he made a good living. We were comfortable.”
The presumption was a little less satisfying, now. “Sounds like maybe you shouldn’t have split up.”
She shook her head. “Looking back, I don’t think there was ever anything like a real spark. I liked him. Maybe I even loved him. But it wasn’t – there was never…heat.” Her brows jumped when she said that, chin tucking a fraction so her eyes looked huge, her gaze full of intent.
“Oh,” he said, stupidly.
“The other night at dinner: if you’d kissed me, I would have kissed back.”
“Oh,” he said again, even more stupidly.
Her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, but she pressed on, brave as ever, not mincing words. “I never stopped to consider someone like you – never expectedyou,” she corrected, with emphasis. “You were always the prom king type, and I was the smoking in the bathroom type, and that kind of hope was soShe’s All ThatI could have gagged on it. And even if you noticed one of the bad girls, it was always going to be Ava. I was just the bubbly sidekick.” Her tiny, self-deprecating smile left him wanting to reach out, to pull her close, shocked to hear that kind of self-consciousness from her of all people. She’d always seemed so Teflon-coated, so impervious to the stupid shit that bothered everyone else.
“Leah–”
“You’re not the popular kid anymore, maybe. In the biker world, I think you’re the nerd, to be honest.”
“Wow, thanks,” he said flatly, but his pulse fluttered rapid in his ears, and his palms tingled, still wanting to touch.
She tipped her head, smile plucking at her mouth. “Come on. You know you’re not the killer bad boy type.” The smile slipped. “But you’re still someone who is very, very capable of breaking my heart. I think that’s why there are certain guys who I just block off. I don’t evenconsiderit. I can’t–” Her voice shivered. “I can’t be that sad, desperate, dumb girl who goes chasing the butterflies in her stomach and winds up dumped for a blonde with big boobs. I’ve always promised myself I wouldn’t do that.”
He swallowed. “That’s not what I was asking you to do.”
Her smile showed teeth this time, edged with bitterness. “Oh, honey, they never ask. It just happens. Like clockwork.”
