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She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “It’s just, small towns sort of weird me out.”
“Because of the lack of Starbucks?”
She laughed again. “God, no. Okay, sort of. But because…it reminds me that I haven’t been home. Not in a long time.”
“Ahhhhhhh,” Simon said, acting as if he’d achieved enlightenment.
“Ahhh, what?”
“The mysterious Jordan Carpenter finally shares a sliver of her past.”
She frowned. “I talk about my past.”
“Um, no. Not in the four years I’ve known you. For all I know, you came into this world as a fully hot twentysomething, delivered to Manhattan by spaceship.”
“Have you been binge-watching Battlestar Galactica again?”
“The guys are hot, but don’t change the subject,” Simon said. “Where’s home?”
She swallowed. “Kansas.”
“More detail, please.”
“You’ve never heard of the town.”
“Try me.”
“Keaton.”
“Never heard of it.”
Jordan rolled her eyes.
“Okay, so, small town?” Simon nudged gently.
The smallest. “The population is less than most New York neighborhoods.”
“And you haven’t been home in…”
“A couple years,” she muttered.
Twelve.
He studied her. “Why?”
“Because there’s nothing left for me there.”
“No family?”
Jordan’s stomach lurched. “Okay, new plan,” Jordan said, reaching out and turning on the radio. “We’re not talking about this.”
He shrugged and leaned forward, squinting out the windshield. “Just as well. Looks like our road trip is coming to an end.”
“What? You said thirty minutes.”
“I also told you I couldn’t read maps.” He pointed to the sign.
LUCKY HOLLOW. POPULATION 2,314
