The silence that followed felt heavy enough to smother.
I let out a long breath, the kind that deflated me all the way down to my bones.So, this was how it was going to be—frozen politeness and weaponized silence.Fine.Add it to the list.Fired.Dumped.Evicted.Disinherited emotionally, if not financially.
I bypassed the coffee pot.If I tried to drink anything right now, it would slosh in my already swirling stomach.
At the front door, I paused on the porch, blinking against the early-morning glare.The humidity hit me full on.It was like walking through soup.
Welcome back to Texas, sweetheart.Population: you and your bad decisions.
Alice’s car was at Alice’s house, and I hadn’t owned a car in Manhattan because that would’ve been like keeping a horse in the living room.I was officially, absurdly car-less.
But I was not asking my mother for a ride.
It couldn’t be that far.A couple miles, maybe.I’d walk, get some air, and avoid another round of Gladys Wakefield’s frosty domestic terrorism.
I slung my cross-body bag over my shoulders, keys in hand, and headed down the gravel driveway toward the main road, each step a reminder that I’d dressed for cute, not practical.The strappy sandals were already cutting across the top of my foot and collecting rocks like souvenirs.Sneakers would’ve been smarter, but the slides did look great with my airy white peasant top and iridescent blue capris.
Fashion over comfort.Some habits refused to die.
At not-quite-eight in the morning, the air already shimmered with heat.Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck.This was why I’d gone north—why I’d traded small-town scorch for city skylines and industrial air-conditioning.
And now I was back.With a house.A flower shop.
And a million dollars I hadn’t asked for.
At the end of the driveway, I turned left onto the two-lane road.A low rumble of an engine made me step closer to the shoulder.A blue extended cab pickup approached, slowed… then rolled to a stop beside me.
The passenger window hummed down.
“Good morning!”
The man leaned across the seat, smiling up at me like the heat didn’t bother him in the slightest.He was handsome in that infuriating, easy way.Three-day stubble shadowed a strong jaw, and at the open top of his rumpled plaid shirt I caught a glimpse of a broad, lightly furred chest.His drawl slid over my skin like warm honey.
Sweet.Actual.Jesus.
“Need a lift?”
“Um.No.I’m good.I’m walking.”I glanced down the road, where the heat turned the blacktop into a shimmering mirage.My feet throbbed in protest.
“Don’t be silly,” he said.“I’m headed into town.I can give you a ride.Besides, it’s hot.And I have AC.”
My resolve wobbled.Pride tried to rally.“I never accept rides from strangers,” I said, giving him my best cocky smile.
“Oh, so that’s it.”
He laughed, a deep rumble that I felt straight through the soles of my fashionable shoes.
The truck eased fully onto the shoulder and stopped.He climbed out, sauntering toward me with a knee-melting grin that crinkled the corners of his dove-gray eyes.Up close he looked even more annoyingly attractive, his sandy hair an artful mess that belonged on some rugged cologne ad.
“You’re Piper,” he said.
“And you hold me at a disadvantage, sir.”
“Sir?”He chuckled, amusement lighting his eyes.“Don’t remember, do you?”One corner of his mouth kicked up.“Figured you wouldn’t.You’ve been away a while.But you haven’t changed a bit.”
He stuck out his hand.“Mac.”
“Mac,” I repeated slowly, searching old yearbooks in my mental Rolodex and coming up empty.“Just Mac?”
