“This has to be the best cookie I’ve ever tasted in my life,” he murmured. “What do you call it?”
“Heathen,” I answered. “It has oatmeal, chocolate chips, butterscotch, and nuts.”
“It’s the best. Seriously. You’re an amazing cook.”
“Thanks.” My cheeks were on fire due to the praise. “I try really hard and it’s always a good feeling to know it’s appreciated.”
“It’s appreciated all right,” he said as I started into my own cookie.
But my belly was too full to take much more than a few small bites.
I handed over the half-eaten cookie next, and he devoured it right along with the previous one.
A horn blared, and we both looked at our watches.
“And we’re back,” he grumbled as he stuffed his trash into his lunch kit and tossed it over his shoulder, hanging onto the strap with a single finger that was dirty and so damn masculine that I wanted to feel it between my hands. How can a finger turn me on so much? “How much do you want per person?”
“I usually ask for twenty.”
“Done,” he said as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “This’ll cover me for the rest of the week. I’ll tell the others.”
I took the cash and watched as he winked at me and walked away.
My heart was freaking pounding.
I looked down at the cash in my hand, and my eyes narrowed as I saw writing on the top twenty-dollar bill.
Wednesday, January 22. 8 pm. 10101 Gum Springs Road. Sawtooth.
Six
I wasted half my life telling people how to spell my name.
—Mable’s secret thoughts
Mable
“What are you doing?”
I looked up at the angry voice and wasn’t surprised to find my father in his truck looking at me with distaste. “I’m about to work out. Why?”
“Here?” He all but curled his lip.
I looked up at the rec center’s gym then to him. “Where else would I go?”
I mean, there were only three options, and two of those options I couldn’t afford.
“The country club?” He rolled his eyes. “You can’t be seen going here.”
My father’s disdain could barely be contained. He hadn’t always been so stuck-up.
When it’d just been me and him during my mom’s slow degradation into cancer, we’d been thick as thieves. We’d go to the thrift shops looking for clothes. The junkyard looking for bikes we could fix up together. Hell, we even went to the trades days Bear Pass had where everyone sold everything from homemade soap to crafts and garage sale items.
But now, he wouldn’t be caught dead doing any of those things.
He wasn’t the person I’d once known.
This man was a stranger, and he got more and more distant with each year that passed.
