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“Brennon’s here?” I ask.
“Yup,” she says, her phone already pressed against her ear.
She asks him to round up some guys to come help carry stuff, and I hear him say he’ll be right there.
“I haven’t seen him in ages,” I say while we wait.
Fannie gives me a confused look, but then her face lights up. “Oh, that’s right, you and Brennon were in the same class at school.”
“Yes, and I haven’t seen him since then,” I say. “How’s he doing?”
“You can ask him yourself,” Fannie says, pointing up the driveway.
She’s pointing at one of the hottest guys I’ve seen in a good long while.
He’s wearing a pair of faded jeans that hug his thighs just right, motorcycle boots, and a black t-shirt that fits snugly across his bulging biceps and hangs loosely across his abs. But not loosely enough to hide the fact that he’s sporting a very nice six-pack. There are a couple of other guys with him, but I barely see them.
And he seems to have eyes just for me too. The edges of his mouth are pulled up in a slight grin, and that look in his eyes tells me, with no uncertainty, that he’d love to peel my dress off to bare more than just my back. I don’t think he’s recognized me yet, though, so I grin at him too.
“Hey, Brennon, long time no see,” I say. “How have you been?”
He does a double take, but then his eyes clear. “Luna? Is that you?”
“It is,” I say and offer him my hand to shake.
It’s an awkward handshake because I think we both want to make it a hug. I lean in, and he pulls me closer, but we’re still holding hands, so a hug’s not gonna happen from this position. We settle for a quick kiss on the cheek, and when we break apart, I swear his cheeks are rosier than they were before all this.
Around us, the other guys are already unpacking the trunk.
“Come on, Brennon, help us get this stuff up to the house now,” his cousin Jeremy says. “You two lovebirds can gawk at each other all night after that.”
My cheeks turn so hot. I’m sure my face is the same shade as my hair right now. Brennon winks at me, then helps his cousin unpack the car. Fannie gives me a bemused smile as I wait for him, then starts trudging up the hill next to Jeremy.
I fall in step with Brennon once he does the same. He’s carrying about five torches, two chairs, and two cooler bags, and he’s barely breathing hard.
“I guess those muscles aren’t just for show?” I hear myself say. And I can’t believe that I did.
But that’s just it. Brennon and I had an easy friendship all through school. We never dated, mainly because I was a bit of a nerd, and he was a jock and one of the cool kids, but we always got along really well.
He chuckles. “No, not just for show. But I do wish my mom thought of getting all these supplies before half the town jammed up the driveway. So how have you been? Still living in Julian?”
“Yes, well . . . I did move to New York City for a while,” I say, not wanting to sound like the nerd that never left her hometown. “But I moved back into my folks’ house about a year ago. I just couldn’t deal with the cold New York City winters.”
“Really, wow?” he says. “From NYC back to your parents’ house? That must’ve been a shock. I can’t imagine moving back in with my folks. It’d be hell on earth. Or slightly worse.”
“It’s not so bad,” I say and leave it at that.
I moved back in with my mom to help her in her final days. I don’t want to bring that sadness into this conversation, though, because I feel better and happier than I have in weeks right now. “And I can imagine worse places to live than your parents’ estate.”
He grins. “You’re right, I guess. But still . . . so what do you do these days?”
Fannie and the rest of our party have already reached the house, but, if anything, Brennon is walking slower and slower, like he doesn’t want this conversation to end just as much as I don’t. The thought makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, complete with butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I haven’t felt that in ages. Literally years.
“I’m a freelance editor,” I say. “Of mostly romance books.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” he says. “You always did like to read.”
“Yeah, I know. I was a nerd in high school. You don’t have to rub it in,” I say and laugh.
