With that thought, I drop her hand and rock back on my heels. My heart’s pounding from the battle I’ve just won against myself, and I breathe in and out before I speak. “Yeah, Drew sounds a lot more like a guy who deserved eight years behind bars.”
I watch as she blinks in shock and catches her plump bottom lip between her teeth. I’ve scared her, and I’m sorry for that, but it had to be done. She needs to know exactly what I am. More importantly, I need her to know.
But Evie surprises me when she shakes her head, her smile returning. “Nah. The nameAndrewmeansmanlyormasculine. Drewis just a friendlier, more playful version of that.”
Now I’m the one who’s shocked. Either she isn’t easily rattled, or she already knew about my time on The Farm. I shift my gaze to Grandma Q and find her grinning like a kid.
Oh, yeah. Master manipulator.
My focus shifts back to Evie in time to see her give a little shrug. “I have this thing about names. I love knowing what they mean.”
I can’t help it. I have to know. “So what doesEviemean?”
Her eyes light with amusement, and she bounces a little on her toes. The gesture is so sweet, I want to pat myself on the back for winning it before I shove the thought away.“Evieis short forEvangeline,which meansgood news.”
I resist the urge to shake my head. She is definitely not good news. Not for me. Evie Lalonde is decidedly bad news. I’ve been in her company for less than five minutes, and she’s made me forget who I’ve been and who I need to be.
It’s time to say goodbye.
As hungry as I am, dinner will have to wait. I turn to Grandma Q. “I’m gonna go up and have a shower. You don’t need to wait on me for dinner.”
Grandma rolls her eyes. “Oh, pooh. As if I’d eat without you. But wait,” she says, holding up a hand to stay my exit. Then she turns on her heels and fusses with something behind her. “Here, before you go up, try some of this zucchini bread. You must be starved.”
She shuffles back and hands me a thick slice of baked bread dotted with chocolate chips, a pat of butter melting seductively across its center. Forgetting everything but my empty stomach, I grab it like the animal I am and bite into it.
“Mmm…”I moan, unashamed. The bread is spiced with cinnamon, and the sweetness of the melted chocolate chips paired with the salt of the butter has me closing my eyes like a drunk man. “Grandma, this isthe best.”
She titters. “Don’t tell me, Andrew. I didn’t make it. Evie did.”
My eyes fly open and land on the beautiful girl in my grandmother’s kitchen as this slice of heaven melts on my tongue. As I look at her, I see two bright spots of color rise on her cheeks. I feel a powerful and unwelcome urge to taste them.
“Of course, I will take credit for the zucchini,” Grandma Q says, jiggling her head with pride. “I gave Evie some over the fence this morning, and she just whipped that up this afternoon.”
I swallow the bite and dip my head at the two of them. “Well, I guess I have you both to thank,” I manage. I need to get out of here. I know this because leaving is suddenly the last thing I want to do. I let myself meet Evie’s gaze, and I nod again, holding up the remaining scrap of zucchini bread. “Really. The best I’ve ever had.”
And then I make myself walk away.
I take my time in the shower, all the while praying that Evie Lalonde will be gone once I head back to my grandmother’s kitchen.
When I do, I have to admit to myself I’m disappointed my prayers were answered.
CHAPTER SIX
EVIE
His eyes are gray. Not light blue. Not hazel. Gray.
I’ve never seen anything like them. I want a closer look, but I don’t think he’d like that. In fact, I don’t think he’s all that happy I’m here. When we shook hands, he looked like he wanted to beat a path to the door.
Maybe he doesn’t like strangers. Or maybe he knows why I’m really here. Because I feel awful about questioning Mrs. Vivian this morning to satisfy Tori.
And Mrs. Vivian was really sweet about it. I told her I’d seen the family out in her yard yesterday and asked if it was someone’s birthday.
Later, I keep thinking about that question. Didn’t I know it wasn’t someone’s birthday? And if so, didn’t my pretend ignorance constitute a lie? To make matters worse, she’d been so honest with me. She told me all about her grandson’s homecoming. His time in prison. Even his crimes.
And I’d listened, feeling almost sick for prying into their private lives. All for what? To shut up my sister?
When Mrs. Vivian picked the three zucchini for me while we talked, all I’d wanted was to make amends. Does a loaf of zucchini bread make up for nosiness and duplicity?
