“Ah!” I dart down the hallway.
CHAPTER 27
My feet slipand slide as I race down the hall toward the front door where a pile of Christmas lights sit, reminding me I have yet to put up the lights at the library.
I don’t even have time to make a mental note as I shove my feet back into my boots and run out the door, sans coat.
The bitter chill and promise of snow slaps me in the face as I race toward Arlo, who stands in the driveway loading up his truck.
“Wait!” I skid to a stop, nearly slamming into the poor man, then almost causing myself to stumble backwards and down on the moose stone once more.
“It’s okay, Wren. I understand.” He sounds dejected, and we haven’t even spoken yet.
“That’s not my name,” I tell him.
“Wren.” He hangs his head. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” I screech, not understanding how he took that conversation with Lark completely wrong.
“This.” He waves his hand between us. “Don’t hurt me.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you, Arlo.” I reach for him, but he slides away.
I’m determined to make this work, so I grab his sleeve and latch on like a parasite.
“We need to talk about this. What you heard isn’t what I meant.”
“It sounded pretty clear to me.” Again, he breaks my hold. “You should give Christian a chance and see if you can make it work.” He doesn’t believe his statement if the sneer on his face has anything to say, and it says a lot.
“Arlo, I was messing with her.” Why, oh why, does my snark always come back to bite me in the ass? I should have just told Lark the truth instead of trying to make light of the situation.
Karma is a sick and twisted hormonal woman.
“It didn’t sound like you were messing with her.” He waves his hands at me before tucking them into his back pockets. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll get your car done as soon as possible and you can be on your way.”
He goes to open his truck door, and I ninja kick it like my life depends on it. Well, my love life, because it does.
“What was that for?” Arlo yells at me.
“Because you are being a stubborn mule!”
“No, I’m not!” he shouts. “You wanted nothing more than to leave this town, so I’m going to go to my shop and make that a possibility for you so you can finally move on with your life.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“Of course I mean that,” he grumbles, trying to open his truck door again.
“Arlo, listen to me.”
“No, Wren, I’m tired of trying to explain myself to you. I’ve poured my heart out to you enough, and I don’t want it to get hurt.”
“If you would just listen, you would see?—”
“I have lights to put up.” He stomps past me and up the porch steps, where he flings open the door.
Hot on his heels, I follow right behind him as he picks up the messy pile of lights in the hall and turns to face me.
“Move,” he growls.
