Page 30 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

The inability to swim hadn’t been important until Thomas had pointed out I was lacking. He seemed to find more flaws with me than I did myself. Each time he realized I’d missed something in my youth that set me apart from other cultured adults, he remedied it immediately.

Londyn hasn’t ridden a horse? He bought me a horse and had it stabled with a riding instructor.

Londyn can’t tell the difference between merlot and cabernet? He hired a sommelier to join us for dinner three nights a week.

Londyn doesn’t like the opera? He bought season tickets because I hadn’t been enough to appreciate it.

I hated the fucking opera. Red wine, no matter the grape, tasted like red wine. And horses scared the piss out of me.

Yep. I didn’t miss him at all.

A bird chirped loudly from above, causing me to turn. It was perched in a tree next to Brooks’s back deck. “I like your house.”

“Thanks.” He turned, taking in the back of his house too. “I bought it after the divorce.”

That answered my earlier question about Moira. “It’s nice. Very quaint.”

The Victorian style was complete with tall roof peaks and curled gables in their apex. On the rear side of the home, overlooking the backyard, two dormer windows emerged from the chocolate roof. The rest of the home was white. The only thing that differentiated the various sides and sections of the exterior walls was the texture. Some of the siding was horizontal boards, other parts overlapping scallops.

“I love all the windows.” The abundance of paned glass meant that most rooms were probably flooded with daylight.

“Same. That’s what sold me on the place. In the summer I don’t have to set an alarm. I wake up with the sun.”

“I haven’t set an alarm since Boston. I used to wake up at four every morning. I’d go to the gym and come home to get ready for work. In the winter, I’d be up for hours before the sunrise. Maybe I’ll get up with the sun from now on too.”

“Some days the alarm is unavoidable,” he said. “There are days when I’ve got a lot happening in the shop. I’ve never quite mastered staying ahead on office work. It was really bad in the beginning when I took over for Granddad. I had a hell of a time keeping up. Figured it out even

tually though. Tony helps keep me from drowning.”

“Do you like your job?”

“Yes.” His one-word answer held so much truth. Brooks loved his job, without a doubt. “What did you do in Boston?”

“I worked for my husband’s company as his assistant.” I turned to the lake again.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, I did, actually. It was the first job where I was challenged. And Thomas was great about letting me pick and choose what I wanted to work on. I started out with the easy stuff. Phones and scheduling meetings into his calendar. But it grew.”

I liked to think he’d suffered some at work after I’d quit. That was my ego talking, but no one wanted to admit they were easily replaceable.

“I’ve thought about getting an office manager,” Brooks said. “Someone who can do the bookkeeping and order parts and keep the papers from stacking up on my desk. I sure wouldn’t miss it. I’d much rather work on cars. Use my hands.”

He had great hands. His fingers were long and calloused at the tips. His palms were wide and soft in the center. I was envious of my own damn car. The Cadillac had felt those hands skim across her surface.

“I wasn’t sure exactly when you’d have the car done. You said a few days, but I didn’t think you’d have it ready so soon.”

“No faith in me?” He feigned a wince. “I’m hurt.”

“You’ve exceeded all my expectations.”

“My pleasure.” His deep, soothing drawl was so comforting, it gave me the courage to ask the question on my mind.

“When I booked my room, I had it through tomorrow. I don’t want to cancel on Meggie with such short notice. If I stayed one more night, would you go to dinner with me?”

I held my breath. It was the first time in my life I’d asked a man on a date. But he’d say yes. Right? He was enjoying these dinners as much as I was, wasn’t he? Otherwise, why would he have invited me here each night?

“I, uh . . .” Brooks ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t. Sorry.”