She scrunched up her nose, and titled her head, considering – adorably so. “Working for Shaman? Doubtful.” She shrugged, and slumped against the sofa back, folded arm hooked over it, so she sat sideways, facing him. He read a lot of trust in that pose, an easiness and total lack of concern. It warmed him, maybe more than it should, given its innocence. “But. I liked my hair, back in the day. But I don’t miss it. That wasn’t really why I was secretly glad to come back home.”
“Secretly?”
“I wasn’t supposed to want to, was I?” She made a face. “That’s why everyone hates all those Hallmark movies, right? The girl has a big job in a big city, and she gives it all up to move back home to her small town.”
He shrugged. “Not that I watch those movies” – he’d watched one or two, with Jazz; Leah’s chuckle said she could see right through him, and he felt himself blush – “but Knoxville isn’t exactly the sticks.”
“No. But it’s different. It’s quieter. More personal. It’s not all rush-rush, bitch-bitch, never-sleep is it? It’s Southern,” she said, finally, nodding. “I felt like coming back here was admitting defeat or something. Like I wasn’t cut out for that life in Chicago – but, God, it’s a relief. I missed my parents. I missed my best friend.” She grinned, small and sideways. “I missed the sound of motorcycles, to be honest. Game day traffic, and real barbecue, and watching the sun set.”
He smiled back. “All good things. Game day trafficdoessuck, though.”
She chuckled. “Do y’all ever go tailgate on the river?”
“Once or twice. Ian has this obnoxious fancy boat and he invited us out once. Dude knows nothing about football, but he likes to drink champagne and be – what’s the word?”
“Ostentatious?”
“If that means obnoxiously fancy for no reason, then yeah, that.”
“I haven’t been inside Neyland in forever.”
“I haven’t been in any SEC stadium since I quit playing. Have you seen how pricey tickets are these days?”
“Now that I don’t have to pay bus fare, maybe I’ll treat you sometime,” she said, with a playful eyebrow waggle.
“I didn’t even think you liked football.”
“I didn’t like the kids who liked it when we were in high school. The sport itself never tried to shove me in a locker.”
“Tried?”
“You think I let them?” she asked, archly.
“Never.”
They grinned at each other, and he thought she was as keenly aware as he was that they’d lived on very different sides of the social divide for a long time, but that the divide stopped mattering once you grew up. Priorities changed, people did – prejudices, too.
“You really don’t miss it?” he asked. “Chicago?”
She hesitated. “Parts of it, sometimes.”
“Do you…want to talk about him?” Jason, she’d said his name was, but Carter couldn’t bring himself to say it. Whoever he was, wherever he was, whatever he looked like – he was an idiot.
“No,” she said, right away. But then: “He wasn’t a bad guy. But it wasn’t…”
“Wasn’t what?” he asked, quietly, heart throbbing with a hope he couldn’t name. It was selfish, and stupid, and primitive, but he relished the idea of beingmorethan Jason had been, in every capacity. He was so used to being an afterthought and a runner-up. He didn’t think he would be that with Leah, and the prospect was dizzying.
“Wasn’t special,” she finished, expression indicating she still hadn’t found the right word, but was making do. “I didn’t want him badly enough to try and hold on when he pulled away.” Whatever his face was doing, it caused her to smile, and reach to lay a hand on his arm, where it rested in his lap. “It’s alright. I’m not heartbroken or anything.”
No, she wasn’t.Hewas the one she was worried about breaking her heart, though he still couldn’t imagine anyone being capable of that, not with Leah.
“That’s good,” he said, tone rougher than intended, his gaze on her small hand, with its purple nails, resting on the tan skin of his arm. The hair there prickled to attention, chill bumps skating up to his elbow and down to his wrist. As if she noticed, her fingers curled a little more tightly. “Is this too soon?” he asked, and it was only a whisper now, afraid of the answer.
“Is it too soon for you?” she countered.
He lifted his head and met her gentle gaze, quietly concerned now, and no longer teasing.
“I shouldn’t have called you a sex fiend,” she said, apologetic. “I don’t know…?”
