Is heteasingme?
I let myself relax into a full smile. “No, no, I’m pretty sure what I feel is my little bookselling heart breaking. Have you always been that way? Or did you just kind of stop reading after you got out of school?”
He flicks a quick glance at me. “That way?” he echoes. “You make it sound like I’m defective.”
Oh boy.
The momentary lightness between has just been obliterated.
Nice one, Chloe.
I slide my hands back into the sleeves of my sweater and wrap my wool-covered fists together. “That came out wrong. Sorry,” I say quietly. “Just trying to make conversation. But we don’t have to talk. I appreciate your being willing to give me a ride.”
I lean a little closer to the passenger side window and stare out into the town that rolls past. I notice plenty of trees in Star Falls, lovely houses, and well-tended lawns. I entertain myself by counting the number of pickup trucks we pass.
I’ve just counted five when Franco blurts out, “So what’s the real reason you walked? Something wrong with your car?”
I definitely can’t tell him the truth, but I also don’t want him to look at it and realize I’m just about out of gas. He’ll either think I’m really stupid, or he’ll think I’m pathetic.
“It was stupid of me. I should have driven. I thought the walk would be nice.” I’m staring out the window, watching the blocks pass, wishing the longest car ride I’ve ever been on was almost over.
With every breath I take, the truck seems to be warmer, and a mouth-watering fragrance that has to be Franco competes with the food. A light hint of smoke and oil and…I don’t know what it is, but it smells like warm leather and sunshine.
I wish I could lean into his neck and take a deep breath, and yes, that officially makes me creepy.
I can’t help it.
He’s the kind of man that any woman would want to lean into and smell.
“I don’t have anything against books,” he says, returning to our previous conversation, thankfully unaware of the deep breaths I’m taking as I pull in his scent. “I do read. I shouldn’t have said that before. I mostly read nonfiction and shit online. That’s what I meant.”
A bloom of heat unfurls in my chest. He’s trying to be kind. He’s trying to open up a little. I won’t read more into it than it means. I’m just super happy that the weird, awkward bubble stealing all the air between us seems to have popped.
“Awesome,” I say, a little too brightly. “I wasn’t judging you.”
“I don’t know about that,” he says, his voice a sultry purr. “You just about had a full-on heartbreak when I said I didn’t read. I think youwerejudging me.” But this time, there’s nothing defensive or guarded in his words.
I lean back against the seat and smile. “Hmmm, true. I was judging you harshly. In fact, I was secretly planning to pull my aunt’s chicken-and-bacon grilled cheese from the café menu just to punish you.”
He chuckles a bit and turns on the blinker as he slows to a stop in front of my building. “This you?” he asks.
“Yep.” I unfasten my seat belt and pull on the door handle. I open the door just a crack, but I don’t step out just yet.
The silence is back between us, the air in the truck thick with tension. I feel like I can’t leave without saying something, without addressing it somehow. It’s not my fault his mother wants to set us up any more than it is his. And I just don’t think I can be friends with Lucia if Franco is constantly…mad like this. Or whatever this is.
“Franco,” I say.
He doesn’t face me but stares straight ahead. “You’re welcome. Have a good night.”
He’s not even going to look at me. In his mind, he’s already left, maybe planning wherever he’s off to next.
A woman’s place, maybe? Yeah. He’s probably got a lot better places to be than with me.
But something inside me doesn’t want to be ignored. Dismissed. I pull the door closed and turn fully in my seat to face him.
“Thanks for this.” I rest my hand lightly on his arm.
He tenses under my touch and turns toward me.
