Page 40 of Runaway Road (Runaway 1)

He groaned, bringing a hand to my hair. He threaded his fingers into the strands, then tightened his stinging grip.

“Brooks,” I hissed, my core tightening. Pulling against his hold, I puckered my lips, trying to reach his. But he held me tight, keeping our mouths from touching.

“If you kiss me again, I’ll fuck you on this rock.”

My breath caught. “What if I want you to fuck me on this rock?”

“Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow?” I cocked an eyebrow.

He laughed. “No.”

“Then the day after.”

“Maybe.”

“I can work with maybe.” I smiled and pushed up.

I took a few deep breaths, orienting myself to the real world and blinking the dizzy haze of lust away. When I went to stand, Brooks’s hand was waiting.

He helped me down from the rock and then we walked across the grass. I’d followed his lead tonight and skipped shoes. The grass was a thick, soft carpet between my toes. The last time I remembered walking barefoot in grass was as a little kid, when my mom had taken me to a park on one of her rare sober days.

“Tomorrow?” I asked.

He nodded. “Tomorrow.”

I stayed still, wondering if he’d kiss me good night. He never did. When we were off the rock, there was no kissing. The only exception had been that first kiss in the garage.

Was he nervous about someone seeing us together? Unless someone was looking for us or had parked in his driveway, we were fairly well hidden and private. The rock sat far enough away from the motel that not even a guest taking a stroll on the sidewalk would notice.

Maybe he was still concerned about Moira. I’d already told him I wasn’t scared of his ex-wife. But I could see why he’d want to protect me from her jealousy.

Or maybe he didn’t want to be seen with a woman whose stay in Summers was as short-lived as a shooting star against the midnight sky.

“Thanks for dinner.”

He tipped his invisible hat. “Night, Londyn.”

My cheeks flushed. He treated me like I was a queen. Thomas had tried to do the same, showering me with gifts and luxuries. But Brooks was different. All he’d bought me was takeout. But that tip of the hat made me feel respected—admired even.

Brooks remained where I’d left him as I crossed the lawn to the motel. Every time I glanced back, he was there. His shoulders had slumped. The smile on his face had dropped. He stood like a sullen statue.

Watching me walk away.

Restless energy invaded my bones the next morning. I went about my normal routine, getting ready for the day before wandering to the office for an iced coffee and whatever pastry they had for purchase. Today’s were blueberry crumb muffins—I ate two.

The past few days, I’d entertained myself by reading. I’d wander to a park about six blocks away, take up a bench and disappear into a fictional world. Meggie had let me borrow her stack of tattered thrillers and I’d already devoured two. They were the perfect distraction to keep me from watching the clock, counting down the minutes until dinner with Brooks.

But today, as I stared at the words on the cream page, I couldn’t make any of them connect. After reading the same paragraph three times, I toss

ed the book aside and flopped onto my bench. I stared at the blue sky without focusing, much like I had at my ceiling last night after leaving Brooks on the lawn.

The image of him standing stoically as I walked away had haunted my sleep.

Except he wasn’t on a lawn, but a sidewalk. And I was looking at him through my rearview mirror.

Just over a week ago, I’d been more excited about this trip to California than I’d been about anything in years. I’d been energized by the open road. I’d been at peace driving the Cadillac. And I’d been happily anxious at the prospect of seeing Karson’s face after all this time.