“Wow, Katie.” The cover is obviously dated, but the woman’s cleavage and man’s naked abdomen make it clear what kind of book this is. The man, whom I assume is the blacksmith, holds a glowing forging iron as his long hair floats in some invisible breeze.
A growl rumbles out of Kate’s throat before the book disappears from my hand.
“It’s not mine, it’s Liza’s,” she mutters as she shoves it back into her bag.
“And you carry it around for her, why exactly?”
“In…case she needs it.”
A laugh puffs across my lips. “Does she need emergency romance novels often? Like an inhaler, but with muscles?”
Kate scowls.
I flip my blinker and switch lanes on the highway. “How is she romance-deprived anyway? Isn’t she engaged?”
Strike one.
Kate’s face falls.
Regret is bitter on my tongue, and I want nothing more than to coax that scowl back onto her face.
“Yeah.” Kate’s voice sounds small, but all I can see is the back of her head as she stares out the passenger window.
“Good…” I clear my throat. “Good for her.”
Her small shoulders lift. “I guess.”
“What, you don’t like the guy? I mean, I know I never met Liza, but it doesn’t seem like she’d fall for the douche—y type.”
Kate snorts, and I earn a view of her side profile as she settles back into her seat. “No, Cameron is a great guy. It just felt…” She lifts a handful of her straight hair and scrutinizes the ends. “Sudden.”
“Do your parents like him?”
Strike two.
Kate’s face falls further. “Love him.”
I try to defuse the situation. “Good…for Liza. And for you too, I guess.” Jealousy stiffens my words. “With Tanner and everything. I bet they like him too.”
Strike three, apparently.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Kate mutters. “Take that exit.”
“Okay.”
Less than two minutes later, Kate disappears into the gas station. Frustration prickles my skin as I shove the gas pump handle into my car, tapping my foot as I wait.
Why did I bring up Tanner? Why fish for information? What did I hope would happen? That she’d suddenly realize by mile marker fifty-three that I’m the one for her?
Pathetic.
I grind my teeth, pay for my gas, and return to the driver’s seat. Watching through the windshield, I see Kate exit and stalk toward my car holding what looks like a salad container and a small plastic bag.
“What’s that?” I ask once she plops into her seat.
She yanks the seatbelt across her green sweatshirt and buckles it. “We’re not stopping for lunch. Let’s just get this trip over with.”
“Fine by me.” A few minutes later, I leave the gas station with my own bag of food. Kate’s eyes are haughty as she glimpses what I bought.
