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Gemma Lafferty is single.
And she’s staying in this cabin with me.
Even though she has her cat back, she hasn’t said a thing about packing up and leaving. It’d be dumb to try to find a hotel room in this small town at such late notice. Gemma’s lots of things, but definitely not dumb—so I know I have at least one more night with her.
I finish off my stir fry and then collect her bowl and mine. A few minutes later I’ve loaded them in the dishwasher, along with some other cooking utensils. The rest of the clean-up can wait.
Gemma’s not the only one in this kitchen capable of coming up with a plan. I’ve hatched one of my own: a way to make the most of this night together.
“Grab your coat, plus shoes you can run in,” I tell her, as I pull a couple water bottles from the fridge.
“Why?”
“You wanted to know why I broke into the tennis center. I gave a guy my word that I wouldn’t be a loud mouth about it, but I don’t think he’d object if Ishowedyou what was up, and you put the pieces together on your own.”
“Parker, what are you talking about?”
“The Gemma I know would be curious right about now.”
“Okay, I will admit that I’m curious.”
“Then come with me for a drive into town. I’ll show you the reason I broke into the tennis center. And you’ll figure out what’s going on with me and Veronica, too.”
“God, Parker, if you’re dragging me out as the third wheel on some kind of small-town date, I’m going to kill you.”
“I promise. It’s not that.”
“Good. Because I’m not up for ‘gettin’ mud on the tires’ or frolicking in the moonlit fields or whatever else you guys do up here for fun. Especially not while you and Veronica make puppy eyes at each other.”
“Gemma… Relax.”
She stuffs her laptop into its bag and then loops the thing over her shoulder. “Thank you. At least you’re not telling me to ‘Chill’ anymore. Fine, I’ll come, but I’m bringing work with me. By the end of tonight, I should have a couple potential matches for you.”
I wish she was kidding, but I can tell that she’s not.
Chapter11
Gemma
Even if I tried for hours, I’d never come up with a logical reason for being here.
I’m in Parker’s giant, toasty-warm truck, parked in the empty, dark Miller & Sons Groceries lot.
Yes, I’m curious to see what Parker has up his sleeve, but that niggling curiosity shouldn’t have been enough to propel me out of the log cabin’s front door, into his gas-guzzling truck, and down the long and twisty road into town to the tune of the love songs he cranked on the radio.
Logically, I should be at the log cabin right now. Not waiting in this idling truck on my own, staring at the dark grocery store’s front doors and listening to more mesmerizing lyrics about slow dancing, red wine, and tangled-up bed sheets.
Parker disappeared inside a moment ago. Even though the front doors have a ‘closed’ sign on them, they opened right up and swallowed him whole. Either he’s skimming off yet another cash register and I’m out here as an unknowing accomplice to his crime, or he’s picking up his forty-five year old, single-mom lady friend for a rowdy night on the town.
Neither of the scenarios my brain conjured up sounds that good to me.
And neither includes a teenaged boy.
And yet, here he is now, walking toward Parker’s truck with a big gym bag slung over one shoulder. The kid’s tall and wiry, with a mop of black hair.
He has a big, crooked-teeth grin that I get to see close-up, when he loads in the back seat of the truck and sticks his head up between the two front seats. “Ms. Lafferty? I’m Ransom.”
“Oh, no, no. I’m not your teacher or anything. Call me Gemma.”Who is this kid?
