"I walkedhere, didn't I?" Outside, a crack of thunder sounded loud enough to rattle the windows. Chucky whined. Chloe bit her lip. Again, she glanced toward the front door.
"Wait here," I told her. "I'll pull up the car."
She hesitated, which I took for a yes. Before she could turn it into a no, I turned away to get the car.
Soon, I'd be alone with her.
Finally.
Chapter 12
When I pulled up to the turnaround, Chloe was waiting in the open doorway. My car had barely skidded to a stop when she made a mad dash through the downpour, clutching the dog like her life depended on it.
From the driver's seat, I shoved open the passenger-side door, hating that I didn't have the time to do things right. I should be standing outside, holding the car-door open, not shoving it open like she wasn't special.
My new home – or estate as the realtor had called it – had a four-car garage attached to the house and a larger garage out back. Normally, I'd have taken Chloe through the house and grabbed a car from the garage that was attached. It would've been easier. And dryer.
But there was a reason I hadn't. That option was dangerous. There was a car in that garage that I didn't want Chloe to see. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
So I'd gone for the other garage, retrieving my favorite car – a classic Plymouth Barracuda that I'd restored personally. On my way out to get it, I'd thrown on a fresh T-shirt, along with my shoes. Sitting in the driver's seat, I glanced down. The shirt had been dry when I put it on. Not anymore.
Like I cared.
Right now, there was only one thing I cared about – the chance to be alone with Chloe.
Still clutching the dog, she jumped into the car and slammed the car-door behind her. She was soaked. Again. My fault. Again.
It was something else to make up for.
From the corner of my eye, I caught movement up at the house. I looked up to see Brittney and Amber rushing out the front door. Amber was holding her umbrella. The umbrella was open. What the hell? Were they coming after us?
I didn't want to find out.
I hit the gas, and the car roared forward, drowning out the noise of the pounding rain. Soon, we were safely past the gate and onto the city street.
From behind the wheel, I glanced at Chloe. She was staring straight ahead, clutching the dog tight against her chest.
Lucky dog.
I said her name. "Chloe."
She didn't even look. Easy to see why. Between the pounding rain and roar of the engine, I'd have to yell if I wanted to be heard. I didn't want to yell. I wanted to whisper. I wanted to hold her in my arms and tell how much she'd meant to me – even if she had no idea who I was.
When I turned the corner, she pointed toward her house and spoke up, loud enough to be heard over the noise. "I'm up here on the left."
"I know," I said.
"Excuse me?"
I had to laugh. "I know," I said, louder this time.
So much for whispering.
"Really?" She turned to face me. "How?"
"We share a fence. Remember?"
"Oh," she said. "Yeah. Sorry."