Her words made my throat tight. “No. No, I’m fine. I guess it’s different than I thought.”
She studied my face intently.
“Okay. But if for one second you feel like you want some company you call me.” She grabbed a card from her back pocket and handed it to me.
I didn’t know drivers had cards. It said, “Gretchen LaRoe - Fashion Consultant, Driver, Landlord, and all-around Badass,” and then her phone number. I snorted.
“You like that? You feel free to call me if anything gets weird.”
“Okay.”
“Also, if you’re ever bored or in Green Valley again, call me. I’m in a club that meets every other Thursday. We meet at different places, so just let me know if you wanna get out. You should come. You’d get along with all of us. I got a good feeling about you.”
I nodded but didn’t take my eyes from the house. I was only half listening. “A book club?”
“Well, sort of.” She shifted her eyes away. “We’ll talk more soon. Seriously, call me if you need anything.”
She squeezed my hand and I felt battle-bonded with her. She was safety and Green Valley and everything I knew. My throat was too tight to swallow. If she only knew who I really was—the things I’d done—she would never have said all that.
I squeezed her hand one last time, feeling such an odd connection with this stranger before letting go, knowing I’d never see her again. I grabbed my stuff from the trunk and headed toward the front door. There was a soft yellow light coming through the windows and a tall figure moved around inside. I climbed the front steps and prayed for courage.
Chapter 10
Clifford
Ishook out the umbrella on the front porch and heard laughter from within my house. A grumble escaped me. It had been a lousy day. Technical issues caused a delay in my class. The rain persisted until my coat was soaked through. A student asked for an extension because his Tinder date went all night and couldn’t I “help him out, man to man.” The refusal resulted in him calling me a name under his breath. All I want to do was come home to a quiet house, listen to some nice jazz, and read in my study undisturbed.
But that wasn't going to happen because she was in there. And she was laughing with Jack. They were in there laughing together, having the time of their lives while I sloshed off wet loafers. I left my coat and bag on the hall tree and made my way toward the gaiety.
Around the corner to the kitchen, I found them in the breakfast nook.
“And then this armadillo went chasing after him…It was the wildest thing I’d ever seen.” Suzie could hardly speak she was laughing so hard, and Jack was silent with laughter, hunched over holding his gut. “He kept running and running…this wild animal was running straight at him…we all just watched because, to be honest, he’s kind of a jerk cop sometimes.”
“An armadillo?” Jack shook his head, wiping his eyes.
“Yeah, someone told him they had leprosy or something.”
She took a deep breath. Her long legs were extended onto the bench where Jack sat, but not quite touching him. Empty plates and half-drunk glasses of wine sat on the table in front of them. When Jack finally looked up, he spotted me waiting in the threshold.
He waved and Suzie turned.
My frown deepened. “Leprosy isn’t a joke. There are several cases a year because armadillos are the only other carriers besides humans.”
“Hiya, Ford.” She sat up straighter, legs dropping to the floor.
“Ford?” Jack slipped on an amused grin. I waved him away. I hadn’t decided how I felt about the nickname yet. “I thought you hated nicknames?”
“It’s not a nickname, it’s an identity,” Suzie said without seeming to be aware of the truth to those words.
Her astute observation surprised me. A thought to analyze later, when I wasn’t worked up.
“I see you ate already,” I changed the subject.
“Yeah, we just cooked up pasta and sauce.” Suzie stepped to the sink. “We saved you some. Want me to nuke it up for you?”
It smelled amazing. I wanted to sit and eat but there was work to be done and I had already interrupted their fun. The laughter had already stopped and the room had palpable tension. Some people slip so easily into conversation. I always feel like the needle busting the bubble.
“Shouldn’t we get started? With our limited timeline, we should be working in the free time we have.”
