“I didn’t know the house had sold.”
She adjusts in her seat. “It didn’t. It was left to me.”
“Are you from here?” And the guys say I’m incapable of making small talk.
She doesn’t answer right away. “No. I’m from a small town up north. We moved almost a month ago.”
I notice she doesn’t elaborate. “Do you have family here?” Even though it’s none of my business, I’m curious what brought her here with two kids.
“No. Have you always lived here?” She turns the tables swiftly.
“Yes. My sister still lives with me, but she’s looking at apartments.”
“If she’s twenty-four, she’s probably ready for her own space.”
I glance at her and her astuteness. “I think I might be ready for my own space, or she’s gonna send me to an early grave.”
She huffs a laugh as if she understands.
I pull into the lot of Macavoy, Dunn, & Chambers. My eyes snag on the sign, and my grip tightens on the steering wheel. This is a place I would never willingly set foot in, except in desperate times that call for desperate measures.
I stop in front of the door, and Sarah unbuckles.
She unzips her backpack. “How much do I owe you for gas?”
I stare at her as she pulls out her wallet.Is she for real?“Thirty-two cents, but a surcharge of three dollars for the unwarranted sass.”
Her gaze tips up to mine, and her lips press together to prevent a smile. “Well, it’s probably best to start a running tab. You can just add it to my bill.”
She removes my coat, and I want to tell her to keep it, but I know she won’t.
“Do you have a ride home?”
“Yep.” She pushes open the door.
I study her as she grabs her backpack and climbs out, wondering if her ride is the bus. “Sarah.”
She stops, and her head drops to the side. “Are you a worrier?”
This woman appears to have an innate ability to shift the conversation away from her.
“Thank you. . .for the ride.” Those eyes linger on mine only a second more before she steps back and closes the door.
I watch until she disappears through the glass. She should come with a warning: Hazardous. Proceed with caution. Because she seems to be able to pick and pry at the calloused layers that were worked into place long ago—ones I like and wear comfortably.
I exit the parking lot far from comfortable and have a sneaking suspicion that it might not return for quitesome time.
Chapter 7
SARAH
A buzzing sound filters through my sleepy fog, and I feel the vibration under my cheek. I yank my head up, wiping the drool from the corner of my mouth, and then use my sleeve on the streak left on my textbook page.
The clock on the microwave reads 2:32 a.m. I run a hand over my face and check my phone, expecting a text from Roxie on her way home after closing the bar.
MILES: I’ll be in LA next weekend for an event. I’ll fly you in, and we’ll talk.
MILES: Don’t forget, Sarah, you left.
