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“Okay,” she breathes, her relief filtering through the speaker. “And, Mack?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
* * *
After a bullshit excuse to Russ,he lets me in, and I walk down the tunnel, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m alone when I stop at the broom closet. I open the door to find Kate's soft gray eyes glowing in the tunnel’s fluorescent lights as she peeks up at me like a little mouse.
“Hi,” she whispers, a shy smile toying at the edge of her lips.
“Hey.” Offering my hand, I pull her up and out into the hallway. I close the door behind her in hopes of covering our tracks, though I doubt Russ would care too much.
“You all right?” I ask.
“Better now that I’ve seen a familiar face.” She pinches my chin playfully, tickling the scruff along my jaw, and drops her hand to her side. “Shall we?”
“Yeah.”
Snow crunches beneath my boots as little white flakes drift down from the dark sky, landing in Kate’s hair as we reach my car.
“Thanks again for picking me up,” she comments as she climbs into the passenger seat.
“No problem. Do you want me to take you home or…?” I grip the edge of the door but don’t close it. Her cheeks are a little red from the icy wind, and her straight, dark hair hangs in messy strands around her shoulders.
Peeking up at me, she prods, “Or?”
“Or…you could come back to my place. We could watch a movie. Talk. Bake cookies. Whatever you want.”
“You want to watch a movie?” she questions me.
“I want to do whatever you want to do.”
“Ya know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it sounds an awful lot like an invitation to hook up.”
“Already told you I need to earn you first,” I remind her.
“Yeah, well, in my book, you’re well on your way.” She scoots further into the leather seat and rests her elbow on the center console, waiting for me to close the door. When I don’t, she bats her lashes up at me. “In case it isn’t clear, yes. I’d love to come over.”
“Good.” I close her door, jog around the front of the car, then hop inside, turning the heat to full blast as I head east. Billy Joel plays in the background as we make our way toward the canyon road leading to my place.
And I can’t get over how nice it is. Being with her. Talking to her.
“Tell me something,” I start. “Are you always afraid to rock the boat?”
She turns to me, her little brows furrowed. “Huh?”
“Earlier tonight,” I clarify. “You didn’t want to ask Theo for a ride, so you hid in the closet. You didn’t come out because you didn’t want to get in trouble with Russ or Coach Sanderson. Youalsodidn’t call me to tell me you’d locked yourself in a closet. Instead, you waited until I reached out to you. Call it a hunch, but I think you didn’t want to rock the boat or be an inconvenience to anyone. Am I right?”
She grimaces. “Is it really so obvious?”
“A little,” I answer with a laugh. “But I get it. My youngest daughter’s the same way. A people-pleaser through and through.”
“Yeah. Don’t get me wrong. I’m working on it. But it’s like you said, I don’t like to rock the boat, and Ireallydon’t like standing out when it’s an inconvenience.”
“Such as when you have a seizure,” I point out.
Her lips pull into a thin line. “Maybe.”
