She sets suspicious eyes on me. “Where are we going first?”
“I told Anthony we would meet him at Riley’s Tavern. I’m hungry and I thought maybe you would be too.”
Brynn looks down at herself. “Crap. Okay. I’ll be right back.”
She comes back out a few minutes later and my heart picks up speed at the sight of her. She’s wearing a white sundress, the kind that looks sweet and innocent but the longer you look at it you realize it’s deceptively sexy. The red cowgirl boots make it even sexier.
Brynn stops a few feet from the truck and turns in a circle. “Better?”
“Yep,” I cough. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve seen a woman before. It’s the cowgirl boots. Holy fucking shit.
Brynn hops in and looks at me, wary. “You okay?”
“Um hmm. Just fine. How was your day?”
Brynn squints like she’s trying to figure me out, but she lets it go and tells me about helping Walt.
“Is he still being nice?” I ask.
She blows out an irritated breath and lets me have it. “Maybe you should take some time to get to know him. He’s a sweet old man and he’d probably be a lot nicer to everybody if they’d just be kinder to him. How you all can continue to castigate a man who’s clearly justlonelyis beyond me.”
She falls quiet, and I feel awful. Especially because I’m certain she’s talking from her own experience.
“You’re right,” I say, starting up the truck and driving away. “I’ll make an effort. He goes to the diner for lunch on Tuesdays. The next time I see him, I’ll make conversation.”
Brynn beams. Rays of blinding sun could be shining right from her, that’s how happy she looks. “Thank you.”
Anything, if you promise to look at me like that again.
“Tell me about Anthony,” she says, relaxing into her seat. “What’s his story?”
“He’s been my friend since seventh grade. Went to college on a football scholarship but was injured and never played again. He came back and started the auto body shop I found myself needing after a gorgeous blonde wandered into the road and I had to swerve to miss her.”
She smacks her forehead and groans. “Oh no. Anthony is the friend who fixed your truck? Great. I bet he thinks I’m a lunatic.”
“Brynn.” I reach over, putting my hand on her leg. Her dress has ridden up since she climbed in and my hand falls onto the warm, smooth skin of her thigh.
She looks down at my hand and back up to me. Her eyes are watchful, and her chest rises with a big gulp of air.
“Red light,” she says, pointing.
At first I think she’s talking about my hand on her, but then I look up and realize she means it literally. “Sorry,” I mutter, braking harder than I’d like to avoid rear-ending the car in front of me.
When I’ve regained my composure, I tell her Anthony has been looking forward to meeting her.
“He’s on a date tonight, and he asked me if I’d bring you around. He has been seeing Julia for a month and I haven’t met her yet.”
Brynn tucks her hair behind her ears and nods. “Sounds good.”
“Plus you can have a drink and loosen up a little bit. You seem nervous. The painting will be fine, I promise.”
Brynn looks out her window. “I don’t drink.”
“Like, ever?”
She shakes her head. “Nope.”
“Sparkling water it is,” I say, but my brain is turning this over. She doesn’t drink, or drive. Is that why she acts the way she does sometimes? Did something happen related to drinking and driving, something bad enough to make her swear them both off?
