I nod.
Her face is tilted up, looking at me. There’s a dusting of flour close to her ear. What if I cupped her cheek in my hand? Rubbedthat little spot off her velvety skin? Is there a world where she’d let me do that?
It’s pointless to go down that road.
Speaking of road, where’s she going? “You need a ride somewhere?”
The distance in her eyes is back. This little dance between us is two steps forward and one step back. “No. I’m walking to my parents’.”
The Palmers live on the other side of Bootleg Tavern, on the fringes of town. The sidewalk ends a good half mile from the bakery. It stays lighter out longer this time of year, but she still has to walk on the highway for a while or in the ditch, where she’ll pick up ticks.
“It’s a nice night,” she says as if reading my mind.
“I know, but I’m handy. What about the return trip?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
I nod and stuff my boot into the ground. She’s so damn evasive, and I’m going to worry all night about her walking that highway with no shoulder. There’s got to be a way. An idea pops into my head. It’ll work for one way only. “It’s too bad you’ve gotta get going. I was going to tell you what the guys thought about your recipes.”
Her gaze sharpens. “What did they think?”
I cock my head toward my pickup and shoot her a grin. “Hop in.”
She stuffs her hands on her hips. “You’re manipulating me.”
Shit. I am. Shame burns through me, but it’s different this time. She’s calling me out for how I’m treating her, and I keep stepping over the line. I’m better than my parents and it’s time to prove it. “I’m sorry. They liked them and the oatmeal raisin cookies were a hit. Durban and Iverson of course had to share theirs with Jamison and Campbell, and they gave each kind twothumbs up.” I give her a tight smile. “Watch for traffic. Drivers aren’t expecting to see pedestrians on the highway.”
She doesn’t even nod, it’s like she’s frozen, but I walk away. The last thing I want to be is manipulative. I know exactly what it’s like to grow up with someone like that.
I’m about to open my pickup door when I hear a quiet, “Cruz?”
“Yeah?”
She’s opening and closing her hands at her sides. “Would you, um, mind giving me a ride home? It’ll be after sunset.”
I would ordinarily be elated, but I don’t want her to think I’m guilting her into spending time with me. “What time?”
“Whenever you’re leaving Bootleg. I help my parents with some cleaning and weeding, so I can find plenty to do until you’re ready. And if I’m getting a ride, it won’t matter if I stay past dark.” Her tone isn’t quite flat. Is she feeling guilty? Scared? Afraid to trust me?
“Haven and I don’t stay out long. I’ll text when I’m ready.”
“Okay. Thank you.” The vulnerability in her voice, in her stance, isn’t right. Who put it there?
She’ll probably never let me close enough to find out.
Elodie
The sun has barely set and the sky is a blue gradient, growing darker the farther from the horizon it gets. My pulse climbs higher as headlights shine in the distance. I got a text from Cruz a few minutes ago telling me he was leaving Bootleg. I thought he’d stay later.
I thought he’d rather find a woman for the night too, but that’s not why I asked him for a ride. The way he shut down on me. His abashed expression when I called him on his tactics. It didn’t sit right with me. I was played by a master and that bastard never showed regret. If he did, it was just to manipulate me more.
Dad peers out the screen door behind me. The reflection shows his white T-shirt and scrawny arms. They’re getting tan this time of year, but he turns whiter in the winter than vanilla cake batter. “I’m glad you got a ride.”
“Yes. Me too.” It gave me time to rage clean my parents’ place after that phone call. Clementine was here yesterday. Between the two of us, we did the spring cleaning—a few months late—and yard work we don’t want our aging parents doing.
“I told Karl you were coming out, and he worried about the same thing. Heard about your car.” Dad pats my shoulder like he used to when I was a kid. A perfunctory, reassuring touch. “He’s asking around to see if anyone has a beater they’re willing to sell cheap.”
“I can make do until mine is repaired.” I can’t afford to buy or rent a car in addition to the repairs. Today, I brainstormed some ideas to pack customers into the place before the end of the month. Doing that without a set of wheels to buy extra supplies sucks. A lot.
