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“We’ll figure that out when we get there,” he answered, not looking overly concerned about their lack of a plan.
“Do you mind if I turn on the radio?”
“Help yourself.”
It was going to be a long ride to Savannah, Tara thought as she turned the knob in search of decent music. And she didn’t want to spend it daydreaming about how cozy the inside of the pickup was with the rain pounding the windshield and Blake’s arm only inches from her own.
It would be easier to keep her emotional distance from him if she considered him nothing more than a temporary friend. They had been thrown together by circumstances, that was all. She fully intended to keep that fact in mind.
AFTER MORE THAN an hour on the road, they stopped for a short break at a fast-food restaurant in a little town somewhere off I-16. It felt good to get out of the truck and stretch. The rain had stopped, and the skies were clearing. Tara wanted to believe that was a good sign.
Tara made use of the ladies’ room, then requested a diet soda in the restaurant. Blake ordered a towering ice cream, cake and fudge combination with a regular soda on the side. Tara watched in amazement as he put away the dessert, and remembered the bacon cheeseburger with fries he’d had for lunch. How on earth did he stay so lanky-slim if he ate this way?
He grinned sheepishly when she finally asked the question. “Metabolism,” he replied. “I try to eat healthy most of the time, but every once in a while I gotta have a burger or ice cream.”
Once again, she thought she heard a faint twang of Texas underneath his usually hard-to-place accent. “Where did you grow up, Blake?”
He shrugged. “All over. My family traveled a lot.”
“How long have you lived in Georgia?”
He dipped a spoon into his dessert. “Who said I live in Georgia?”
She blinked. “You mean you don’t?”
“Only occasionally.”
She thought of that old motel in Marietta. “Where do you live when you aren’t in this state?”
“Here and there.”
“You don’t have a permanent home anywhere?”
“I work out of Texas fairly often. Got a little place in the Tennessee hills where I sometimes go between jobs.”
It sounded to Tara like a lonely existence. “You have no family?”
“I’m pretty much on my own.”
There were so many more questions Tara wanted to ask him. Why he lived the way he did. Why he felt the need to have trucks stashed in used-car lots, motels booked under false names, why he apparently lived a footloose life with no ties to a home, a family or even possessions. But she knew those questions were none of her business, and that Blake would only tell her if he wanted her to know.
So, instead, she frowned and adopted a lighter tone. “Blake, has anyone ever told you that you’re just a bit strange?”
He grinned. “I believe ‘weird’ is the usual adjective.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“I’ve gotten used to it. You sure you don’t want any ice cream or anything?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Then we’d better be on our way.”
The more she learned about Blake, the less she felt she knew him, Tara reflected as they climbed back into the black pickup. And the more he intrigued her.
IT HAD BEEN YEARS since Tara had visited Savannah. She had almost forgotten how beautiful it was, with its cobblestone streets and spreading magnolia trees, its historic houses and abundantly blooming azaleas.
She climbed out of the truck gratefully that evening, stiff from the hours on the road. She looked curiously around the beautifully landscaped grounds of the condominium complex in which Blake had parked. “Where are we?”
