Beside the woman, a wooden swing hangs from an ancient oak tree, its ropes frayed but sturdy. Memories lurk within every creak and sway. The kind of memories I never had the chance to experience. Innocence and all that shit.
The simplicity of it is overwhelming. This is light-years away from the sleek lines and sharp edges of my own life.
Here, everything feels…
Timeless.
Unburdened.
Smack!
I nearly hit the fucking ceiling.
“Jesus Christ.” Jerking to the left, I come face-to-face with Stevie St. James wearing a scowl of bewilderment. I press a button to lower the driver’s side window all the way and upstage her scowl with a glare. “What the hell?”
“What the hell, me? What the hell,you.”
“I’ve heard that line before.”
“No. Last time it was ‘fuck.’”
She blinks at me like she’s waiting for something, but I’m not sure what to say because she definitely caught me lurking around her property like a creep, and it’s not a good look.
“What are you doing here?” She pops both hands on her curvy hips, a little pair of denim shorts swallowing her upper thighs.
My gaze trails to her face, meeting with a galaxy of freckles on the bridge of her nose and two minty green eyes. I lean back in the seat, trying to appear unruffled, even though I feel like a total dumbass. “Told you we should meet up to go over lines.”
“Right now?” She starts chewing on her thumbnail, her dark brows bending. “I didn’t realize you were just going to show up at my house. This is weird.”
“I didn’t get your number. You said you lived in the red barn.”
“It’s a farm.”
“Whatever.”
We stare at each other. The breeze picks up, taking her thick brown ponytail with it.
Stevie sighs and crosses her arms, the motion pushing up her breasts. “I can’t tonight. I’m in charge of cooking dinner.”
“Tell someone else to do it.”
She squints at me. “That’s not how it works. We take turns. Tuesdays and Fridays are my nights.”
Weird, but okay. “Fine. Next week then.”
“Maybe.”
We revert back to the silent stare-off.
Stevie pulls away first, scanning the leafy tree line. “Why are you wet?” she wonders, pretending that the undulating branches are more interesting than me. Her cheeks pinken in the daylight as she adds, “And half-naked.”
I glance down at my bare torso.
Guess I forgot to grab a shirt.
My soaked swim trunks bleed into the leather interior as I prop an elbow out the open window and skim my fingers through my mop of slow-drying hair. “I went swimming. Why are you out here by the road?”
“I was reading.”
