What on Earth was he doing here?
This wasn't how I'd envisioned any of this. When I'd ordered the Uber, I'd envisioned a nice quick exit, preferably in secret.
I mean, if Bryce didn't care one single bit that I'd basically disappeared last night, why would he be staking out my car?
Of course, this assumed hewasdoing such a thing. For allIknew, he was just getting some fresh air or giving the cleaning crew some space.
The idea wasn'tthatfar-fetched. From the Uber's back seat, I'd spotted the cleaning van parked in my own driveway just like I'd spotted Bryce a moment ago.
Now, I was staring stubbornly at my car while my urge to flee warred with my greater urge to march over to Bryce and demand an explanation.
Or maybe I'dofferan explanation. My sudden disappearance had to cause himsomeconcern, right?
But when I looked back to Bryce, he appeared anything but concerned. His expression was stony, and his mouth was tight, like he was more ticked off than anything else.
He made no move to get up from the swing or come over.
For some reason, this was the final straw. Maybe he didn't care aboutme, but I'd cared about him. And unlikesomepeople, I would've called ifhe'ddisappeared to God-knows-where.
With a little huff, I hitched my purse higher and began marching toward him even as I considered what I might say.
Did you wonder where I went? Did you care?
Or were you too busy to care?
Last night, did Natalia sleep in my bed? Or hey, did you do it in my sister's room?
Or maybe…please tell me you did nothing at all. Can you? Please?
As I marched ever closer, these and other possibilities pounded in my head. All of them were good questions – questions that deserved good answers. But when I finally reached Bryce, the thing that actually came out of my mouth was, "What areyoulooking at?"
He gave me a long, inscrutable look before saying, "That's a good question."
It felt like an insult, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. I shot back, "If you thoughtthatwas a good one, you should have heard the ones I didn't ask."
He flicked his gaze to my car. "So, no coffee today?"
I wasn't following. "What do you mean?"
"Your coffee truck." His tone grew sarcastic. "Don't tell me you're giving it up."
The idea was ludicrous. "Why would I give it up?"
"I dunno." He shrugged. "Why do you do anything?"
"I don't know. Why doyoudo anything?"
He gave a slow nod. "That's a good question, too."
"Great," I snapped. "Then why don't you answer?"
"Maybe I don't feel like it."
"Yeah? Well maybeIdon't feel like it either." I forced a smirk. "So, did you have a good time last night?"
He smiled. "Good enough."
The smile caught me off guard. It wasn't his regular smile. But it wasn't the first time I'd seen it. It was the same smile he'd given me when I'd first spotted him, and it definitely wasn't a warm one.
