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“Whywouldn’t it be?”
“Idon’t know.”Heshrugs. “Somekids go to school to study whatever their parents think they should.Wasn’tsure if that was what was weighing so heavily on your mind.”
“It’swhatIwant to do.Hopefully, it will save me from what’s on my mind.”
“Foundyourself a handsome friend,” the waitress flirts with him while she’s talking to me. “Knowwhat you want, sugar?”
“Yeah, canIhave the ham melt and fries?”Hisvoice is almost as low asLuke’s, only it has more of a grit to it.
“Idon’t even know your name,”Iobserve as our waitress leaves.
Heholds out his hand across the table. “EvanderThrace.”
Takinghis hand,Ishake it.Hisgrip is firm, confident.Heseems to be everythingI’dlike to be someday; sure of himself, smart, strong, and observant of those around him.
“EvanLogan.”
Thecorner of his lips curves up revealing a dimpleIhadn’t noticed. “Niceto officially meet you,Evan.”
“Likewise.”
Afterwe let go of each other’s hands he crosses his arms on the table. “Mrs.Garrettdoing okay?Sheseemed pretty shaken up but also strong-willed.”
Myheart twists. “She’sgood.”
Henods as silence grows awkward between us.
“Youlive inAltabecauseIdon’t remember seeing you other than that night?”Iask.
“Nah,Ilive inSaltLake, wellIdid.Iwas only inWyomingto help out with the short-staffing situation.”
“Youdid?Asin, you don’t live there now?”
Heleans back and straightens his shoulders. “I’mmoving.Ican’t stay in one place for more than a few years.Movingto theEastCoastthis time.Headingthat way now.”
“Ridingthe entire way?”Iask.
“Yeah, taking some time for myself, regroup and collect myself.”
“Soundsnice,”Itell him, thinkingIcould use that in my life.
Evandertakes a long drink of his tea, downing more than half of it. “Nowthat we know each other a little, do you feel comfortable telling me what’s got you tied up in knots?”
Ichuckle and run my hand across my chin.It’sthe same hand that shook his.Hesmells spicy, like pine trees, leather, and something similar to cedar.Irecognize the cologne but can’t place it.It’svery robust but timeless, which is very fitting.
“You’renot going to let that go are you?”Iask, hoping he wouldn’t press for more.
“Itmight help you to get it off your chest.I’ma stranger.Hell, we will probably never meet again in this lifetime, so what’s to fear?”
Ilift my brows. “Thefact that we have already crossed paths twice.Thatand your judgment.”
Pointingto himself, he waves his finger across his chest. “Me?Iam a judgment-free zone.”
Ilaugh in disbelief at that.
“I’mserious.”Hishand falls to the table, and when his finger brushes against my knuckles it feels intimate.Ishiver from the touch, butIdon’t move away.Idon’t want him to thinkI’mrepulsed.
“Cananyone truly be nonjudgmental?”
