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“Don’t leave on our account, I mean,” I backpedal, grateful for the momentary lapse in eye contact while Milly loves up on Lucy. “We were just browsing. I’ve been reading a lot of fantasy lately.” I hold up the Borgias book. “Want to change it up.”
Milly straightens, tugging at her leggings. “That’s a good one. Sequel’s excellent too. You’ll love it, mostly because it’s about a family of bloodthirsty assholes.”
I let out a bark of laughter. “Just like my family?”
“Just like your family,” she teases, and for a minute, I swear her eyes glitter. She’s pleased with herself, making me laugh.
Pain blossoms just above my rib cage. It’s like someone’s pressing their knuckles against the bones, bruising them.
“Where’s Reese?” Milly asks, glancing over my shoulder.
“Spin class.” I glance over her shoulder at the door.
“Just me,” she answers before I ask the question. “Rhett wanted to come, but I told him he wasn’t invited.”
“Ouch.”
“I had to clear my head.”
I want to ask what’s on her mind. What’s got her running from Blue Mountain and the eighty-seven brothers she has there.
Does her being alone on a Saturday morning mean she isn’t seeing anyone?
The idea that she’s single pisses me off. Who is fixing what I broke? Who is taking care of her? It’s not right that I’ve found someone else and Milly hasn’t.
But I have no right to ask about any of that, so I don’t.
“Don’t let us keep you, then.” I give Lucy’s leash a gentle tug. And then, because I can’t help myself, I say, “I read a thriller last month you’d like. When No One is Watching by Alyssa Cole. Elton, the owner, recommended it. It’s beautifully written, a little bit creepy, and a lot fucked up.”
Milly nods, still grinning, but her eyes go dark. “Perfect for me then. I’ll check it out.”
“Cool.” I cringe inwardly at how uncool I sound.
“See ya, Nate. Oh! Did you teach Reese what Holly taught us?”
I shake my head. “Haven’t had a chance. I hope to catch her up this weekend.”
“Good.” Milly gives me a thumbs-up. She is not the kind of person to give anyone a thumbs-up, and it makes the pain in my ribs pulse hotter. Her continued awkwardness is endearing, especially when it’d be well within her purview to cuss me out instead.
“See ya, Milly,” I say, and head for the biography section at the back of the store before I say—or do—something stupid.
Chapter Eleven
Milly
I stare at the empty parking spot.
It’s the same spot I swore I nabbed ten minutes ago, except my car is nowhere in sight.
“What the hell?” I don’t know why I keep addressing the universe today. Maybe because it seems so intent on screwing me.
I have had a lot on my mind lately. Did I park somewhere else and just forget? I look down the street to my left, then to my right.
I don’t see a single white Mini Cooper Countryman anywhere. My stomach dips.
It dips again when my eyes catch on the meter next to the space where I think I parked. Oh, shit.
I forgot to pay the goddamn meter.
“Tow truck just came through,” a guy speeding by on a bike says.
I laugh, even as pressure builds behind my eyes. Oh, shit indeed.
For several beats, I just stand there, my Malaprop’s bag hooked over my wrist. The bag weighs a ton, and the plastic handles dig bright pink lines into my skin. Even though I made a mad dash through the store after running into Nate, I still somehow ended up with three books and five magazines, plus a magnet with a smiling 1950s housewife on it that says, Fresh out of fucks, folks!
Part of me wants to plop down on the sidewalk and give up. I don’t want to go back to the office, and I don’t want to go home. I definitely don’t want to deal with the nightmare of getting my car back. I need another thing to take care of like I need a hole in my head.
Covering my face with my hand, I try to think. My thoughts spin.
Nate looked scruffy. Well slept. Shoulders broader than I remembered them. Is he working out more lately?
So good. He looked so good. Did he drop his coffee because I scared him? Or did my appearance hit him like a bullet to the chest the way his hit me?
I can’t—this can’t be happening. I can’t keep having thoughts like th—
“Need help?”
Universe, you have got to be kidding me.
I drop my hand, and there’s Nate. His impeccably restored Bronco is pulled up in front of me, the engine throbbing. The windows are rolled down, and Lucy pokes her head out, her shiny brown ears flapping in the breeze. Nate’s wrist is draped over the steering wheel. He’s wearing a pair of RayBan Wayfarers, the same ones he’d wear on our hikes through the woods behind his cabin. His full mouth is turned down slightly at the corners, brows pinched together.
