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“Really well. She remarried last year and moved to Chattanooga. Edward came down to Blossom Branch to do some duck hunting. Mom was waitressing at the diner. They met there, and boom. Next thing I knew, I was at the courthouse with them signing my name as a witness. I’m happy for her.”
Brit studied Laney’s face as if trying to see inside her head. “So what keeps you here, Laney?”
The question made her uncomfortable. Many times, she had shared with him her desire to travel the world. She shrugged. “What keeps anybody anywhere?” she said. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.” Now was not the time to talk about the stash of glossy cruise and expedition brochures tucked away in her desk...or the online articles she had printed out detailing Brit’s career.
Was she ashamed of still living in Blossom Branch? Did comparing her mundane life to Brit’s far more glamorous one make her feel like a failure? Laney had spent the last decade burying her own bucket list—out of an obligation to her mother.
The thought of being with Brit in a committed relationship was too fantastical an idea to even include on the list.
Now her mother no longer needed Laney, but those long-deferred goals seemed beyond reach. Money was always an issue. Or maybe Laney was a coward. Maybe choosing safety and security was her default. At eighteen, she had been more ready to take risks. Now, not so much. Unlike Brit, she wasn’t prepared to give up everything to chase an impossible dream. Was she?
Spending time with him four years ago, however briefly, had added an element of painful, adult yearning to her feelings. Unfortunately, like expensive world travel, he had always been out of reach.
Brit frowned slightly. “Come sit with me, Laney.”
She had tried not to...she really wanted to keep a healthy distance. But there was no polite reason to refuse him. She grabbed a Coke from the fridge and took the chair opposite her guest.
After taking a sip, she reiterated her question. “When I asked why you were here, I meant why are youhere...at my house.”
His entire body went still. Carefully, he set down the fork he was holding and eyed her with an unreadable gaze. “I was hoping you might let me stay a couple of nights. The motel out at the interstate is decent enough, but it has zero privacy.”
She felt herself blush from her hairline to her toes. Brit. In her house. “Um...”
“I won’t be a bother,” he said.
“Why wouldn’t you stay at your parents’ place?”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” Her heart pumped.
“I bought my daddy a big fishing boat. He and Mama have moved to a cute little town down on the Florida panhandle. The house here is mostly empty now. It’ll go on the market in a week or so.”
“I see.” What did it mean that of all the residents in Blossom Branch, Brit Sheffield showed up atherdoor seeking asylum? She wanted to believe that their tenuous text connection was as important to him as it was to her, but it was a dangerous fantasy. The man had a million plus Instagram followers. More likely, Laney and her house were convenient. “Aren’t you sad your childhood home is being sold?”
“Maybe a little. But I was never going to live there.”
Ouch.It was true. Brit had moved on from Blossom Branch while they were both still teenagers. Leaving Laney behind.
While Brit finished his meal, Laney studied him unobtrusively. He had aged well. At twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine, he was even more handsome and appealing than he had been as a cocky, self-confident kid. Now he was a man with all the rugged masculinity a woman could hope for.
But Brit’s allure was more than physical. He had that mysterioussomethingthat made him stand out in a crowd. His most recent film franchise had taken his career to the next level. Now people around the world knew his name.
Yet here he sat in Laney’s kitchen.
She firmed her resolve. “The bed in the guest room is an old-fashioned full-size, not even a queen. And my bathroom is tiny. I love this old house, but it has its drawbacks.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me, Laney?”
“I should,” she muttered. “I don’t trust us.”
His face went blank, and his cheeks reddened. Four years ago, when his grandmother died, Brit had come home then as well. Before he left to go back to Hollywood, he and Laney had spent an entire night talking and reminiscing. They started out in a dimly lit corner booth down at the Peach Pit—the local watering hole—and then when the bar shut down, they had parked out on a dark, secluded road and waited for sunrise.
In those hours when defenses were down and Laney’s good sense wavered, they had indulged in some old-fashioned necking. His nimble fingers unfastening her bra. Her hands exploring under his shirt.
They had both been heavily aroused, and yet somehow, they managed not to go the distance. Laney hadn’t wanted to be a notch on a movie star’s belt. And Brit...well, who knows why he hadn’t tried harder to get her out of her clothes.
For weeks afterward, she regretted not encouraging him to make love to her. She was a single woman living in a small town with an even smaller pool of eligible men. She was lonely. But even in the midst of heady passion, she had known instinctively that sex with Brit would make things worse.
