“Rip?” I asked him carefully, my apprehension disappearing by the second.
“Yeah?”
I swallowed and made myself look him in those blue-green eyes. “Do you like me, or is it more than that?”
He took a deep breath before responding. “Get out of here with me and I’ll tell you.”
* * *
The rideback to his place didn’t take long at all considering the unending traffic even in the evening.
Rip had offered to drive us over to his home, but I hadn’t wanted to leave my car in the bar’s lot, so I followed behind, watching the road as we turned onto a sleepy street in north Houston with spaced-out single-story homes and driveways filled with cars.
When Rip turned his truck into an open graveled lot, with a new-ish rectangular home settled right smack in the middle of it, I knew this was where he lived. I parked my car behind his truck, watching as he got out and headed over, pulling mine open too before I really made much of an effort to beat him.
Rip gave me that one-cheek smile with a dimple in it as he took my hand and led me out, slamming the door shut.
“You made it seem like you lived in a dump,” I accused him.
“It’s no pretty purple house,” he tried to explain as he fiddled with his keys.
I took in the extended sides and length of his home. “Rip, I bet this thing cost almost as much as my house.”
He shrugged, giving my hand a squeeze as he slipped a key into the lock and turned it. “It’s still no pretty purple house.”
He was obviously never going to agree, even though I was right.
But in that moment, I couldn’t find it in me to argue with him over it. That was because… because… connected to the same keychain his house key was on, something dangled from it. Something that looked like an ice cream cone charm. An ice cream cone charm that I’d had on a necklace. A necklace that I had put on him after the car accident.
He’d kept it? He’d put it on his keychain?
I was a goner. I was such a goner that no one was ever going to find me again. Ever. It took everything in me to keep my mouth closed. To save the moment for later, since there seemed like there might be a later between us. I hoped.
He shoved the door open, leading me up the metal steps as he fiddled with a light switch on the wall closest to him.
Light blazed on inside the trailer just as
he pulled me in, closing a screen door and a heavier one as I took in the inside of his home.
I hadn’t been wrong when I told him his place had to be as expensive as mine. It wasnice. Patterned tan and rich brown colors were used as the upholstery of two big, comfortable recliners to the right of the entrance. To the side was a table that could sit four. His kitchen, to the left, was way nicer than mine. The appliances were new and shiny, and there was a four-burner stove with an oven and a microwave. He had a nice kitchen island with storage beneath it. If my eyes didn’t deceive me, there were a handful of old-looking cookbooks under there, too. I wondered if they had been his mom’s and couldn’t help but hope he’d tell me someday. He even had a nice fifty-something-inch television on the wall beside a door that had to lead somewhere. The bedrooms? Bathroom? I didn’t know.
And it was clean.
Really clean.
“Are you always this clean?” I croaked, still soaking it all up.
His laugh was warm and rich and so natural, I had no defense for it. It slid underneath my ribs and settled right over my heart. “Not messy, but I might’ve been taking extra care the last few weeks in case you came over.”
I sucked in a breath and looked up at him standing right beside me, watching me even then. “Not for every girl you bring over?” I made myself ask.
He shook his head and fully turned to face me, his hand coming up and sliding across my throat, palming it. Those teal-colored eyes didn’t stray from mine for even a second as he breathed, “I told you I bought this after I moved here.”
“I know.” Did my voicehaveto sound so small? “It’s none of my business if you have—”
“Nuh-uh,” he said, still shaking his head.
I blinked. “But that was three years ago.”
