“I— We— Idon’tlike her.”
Mrs. Basil raises an eyebrow. “I’d beg to differ. You keep pulling her pigtails like a bully with a crush.”
Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “That’s totally not true. I can’t stand the woman.” The words taste like ash in my mouth. It’s become less and less true these past couple of weeks.
“Hmm. Could have fooled me. You should get out of your own way and tell her how you feel. The two of you have a whole lot more in common than you could ever imagine.”
Mrs. Basil flounces away as if she didn’t just drop a massive bomb. There’s no way she’s right. I don’t have some kind of prepubescent crush on Farrah. The idea is utterly preposterous.
Can I admit that she’s beautiful? Sure. She’s pretty in a fairy princess sort of way. That doesn’t mean I want to date her or spend time with her.
Right?
No, I don’t date anymore. The practice is annoying and only leads to heartbreak. I’ve had enough of that for a lifetime.
Although sitting by the pond with her last week was nice. She didn’t fill the silence with inane chatter like a lot of people would have. It was comfortable, and I don’t think I’ve ever been that relaxed around a woman.
But Mrs. Basil is still wrong. I haven’t been picking on Farrah. I don’t do childish shit like that. I will admit that Ipushed her buttons to get a reaction out of her, but it definitely wasn’t because I wanted her attention.
I scan the room for her, needing to prove to myself that I don’t havefeelings. She’s not at the table anymore, so I search the kitchen and the living room. I end up outside, where Nix is building the bonfire.
“You seen Farrah?”
He gives me a look. “Why do you want to know?”
“I just need to ask her something.”
“What?”
“It’s not any of your business. Have you seen her or not?”
He gives me a derisive snort. “She went out front to her car.”
I walk away without responding. That asshole better not have a thing for her. He’s not good enough for Farrah. The playboy wouldn’t know what to do with a kind-hearted woman like her.
And you would?
The snarky thought sounds like Grayson, and I hate that the little fucker is in my head. Iwouldn’tknow what to do with a woman like her. She’s warm and strong and unafraid to stand up for herself when it’s necessary.
When I make it around Stan and Muriel’s house, I stop short. Farrah is standing in the driveway, looking like a moon goddess as she basks in the silver light.
Her face is tilted toward the sky the same way it was by the pond. She looks untouchable and more enticing than I could ever express.
Like a lightning bolt, the realization that I very much have feelings for her strikes me in the gut.
I don’t do feelings. I gave what was left of my heart to my son. There’s nothing else in my chest to offer her.
Why the fuck would she even want someone as broken as me in her life? She’s made it more than clear what she thinksabout me. I’m the last person she’d want to have a relationship with.
But seeing her taking in every breath as if she’s lucky to have them stirs something inside me I didn’t think still existed.
Ah. Fuck it.
I’m moving toward her before I can really think about it. My footsteps make her turn, her shoulders stiffening until she sees it’s me. In stark clarity, I watch her body relax, and a small smile tilts up the corner of her mouth.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
She tucks her arms across her chest. “I forgot Lauren’s present in the car, and then I got distracted by the stars.”
