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“A few more hours and it’ll be finished. Meet you here tomorrow?”
“After church?” She gives me a look. “You know Grandma will skin me alive if I miss church.”
“Hell, she’ll skin me too.” I laugh at the idea of it. “After church,” I confirm. “Meet you here?”
She nods. “Sounds good.” She looks down at the zipper of the hoodie. “I’ll wash your hoodie and bring it to you tomorrow.” It was more like a question than a statement. She looks at me for confirmation.
“You don’t have to wash it. I can do it.” Her face falls a little. “Unless you just want to wear it home.”
She smiles again, and damn if it doesn’t take my breath away.
She lifts a hand. “Okay, then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Drive safe,” I reply. I leave the keys to the tractor in the ignition, right where I found them.
Evie gets in her truck and she slams the door. Most girls who look like Evie—girls who got a fancy education and live in a big city—drive compact cars or hybrids. But Evie drives a big old pickup truck with four-wheel drive and big-ass tires. I kind of like her truck, but I’m not sure it likes her right now. I see her smack the steering wheel as she sits there in the dark. She pulls out her phone; I can see the light on her face.
I walk over and motion for her to put the window down. But she opens the door and jumps out instead. “I think my battery’s dead. It’s just clicking when I turn the key.”
“I can give you a jump.”
She heaves out a sigh. “Thanks.”
“But I can’t do it right now. I have to be somewhere in ten minutes.”
“Oh.” She kicks at a piece of grass next to her foot. “Never mind. Grandma’s not answering. But I’m sure she’ll get the message soon.”
“I’m not going to leave you sitting all alone in a field.”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I can walk up to the Jacobsons’ house. I don’t want you to be late for your date.”
I stare at her. “I told you it’s not a date.”
“Sure it’s not,” she shoots back.
“Get your stuff,” I say. “You can ride with me to my appointment, and then I’ll drop you at Ms. Markie’s house after. My appointment won’t take long.”
“Are you sure?” she asks. But she’s already gathering her purse and her book. Evie always has a book in case she ever gets stuck somewhere with nothing to do. She reads more than anyone I ever met.
“Move your ass, Clifford,” I say. “Or you’re going to make me late.”
“Fuck you, Grady,” she says, but there’s no heat behind the words.
She gets in my Jeep and closes the door. “Oh, God, I just remembered something from Thursday night,” she says and she drops her face into her hands as I pull out onto the main road.
I grin. “What did you remember?”
“I think I took my bra off and held it over my head like a streamer,” she whispers, suddenly aghast at her own actions. “Did I do that? Tell me I didn’t do that, Grady,” she pleads.
But I can’t stop laughing. “I’d be a liar if I told you that. And my daddy didn’t raise no liars.”
“Why did I do that, Grady?” She lays her head back and groans.
I’m smiling so big I can barely talk. “You said something about craving freedom from wires,” I tell her.
She turns to face me, her mouth hanging open wide. “I did not. You take that back, Grady Parker!”
I duck away from her when she goes to hit me, laughing so hard I can barely catch my breath.
