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Squeak go my sneakers.
Splat goes my heart.
Lucas leaves before me, his car tearing out of the small parking lot as I’m squeezing water from my socks on the steps of the Art Barn.
I clench my teeth to keep from racing after him.
I shouldn’t have said what I did. As painful as it was to hear the truth of why he rejected me, there’s no excuse for kicking someone when they’re down.
Especially him.
“Whoa, he okay?”
I look over at Billy, standing a few feet away with a water bottle halfway to his mouth. There are workers all around us, sprawled in the sunshine as they rest and eat lunch.
No, he’s not okay.
“I dunked him in the lake.”
Billy chortles, eyeing my wet hair and jeans. At least my upper body is dry—I used the privacy of the barn to peel off my wet shirt and bra and pull on my dark, oversized sweatshirt.
Billy shakes his head chidingly. “Some things never change.”
I force a laugh and gather my wet clothes, which is becoming a theme after being alone with Lucas. “I’ll see you later, Billy. The new porch looks great.”
He grins. “Thanks. See ya.”
The drive back into Sun River doesn’t take nearly as long as I want it to. Before I know it, I’m approaching the turn that leads to Rose House. And Lucas’s rental house.
My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel as I pass the street. Almost unconsciously, my foot lifts off the accelerator.
You need to apologize.
“I’ll call him later,” I tell my inner critic.
Now.
The impulse hijacks my body, which jerks the car into a small parking lot in front of a real estate office, makes a U-turn, pulls back onto the main road, and then takes a sharp left.
Trees press close on either side of the street. A yellow Narrow Roadway sign warns me in my peripheral. I almost laugh at how appropriate it is.
Even as I stick to the pavement, it feels a lot like I’m driving toward a cliff.
32
I only have to ring the doorbell once before Lucas opens the door in a surreal parallel of last time: wet hair and shirtless. But this time his jeans are wet, too, goose bumps pepper his chest and arms, and he looks miserable.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt.
He shakes his head. “It was the truth, so you have nothing to apologize for.”
I swallow past a dry throat. “That’s the thing. How do I know?”
He frowns. “Know what?” Then he steps back. “Just come in. You’re not wearing shoes and my nuts are ice cubes.”
I follow him into the house, closing the door behind me. Lucas veers to the right, stepping off the foyer’s area rug to stand over a heating grate. After a full-body shudder, he sighs in relief. Unable to resist, I move next to him and bump him with my hip, stealing half the vent. Hot air funnels up my legs.
“That’s good stuff.” I sigh.
