“No woman drives when I’m in the car.”
“That’s a sexist sentiment.”
“And your point is?” I grin at her.
She laughs. It’s a sweet sound. “Fair enough. But we still need to take a car of some sort.”
What excuse is she going to come up with this time? “Oh really?”
Then a light comes into her eyes, and a smile spreads across her face. “Yes, really. We need the space to put the groceries.”
Why does it make me smile when she thwarted me? “Some other time.” I toss the coat over the couch and switch the keys. “There’s plenty of time for me to talk you into getting on a motorcycle.”
“You think I need someone to talk me into doing something wild and fun?” She walks up and gets into my face. “If that were so, it wouldn’t be a man who mostly hates me who would do it.”
I shouldn’t let those words get under my skin, but the desire to change her mind rules mine.
Greer steps past me, walking up to the passenger side door of my SUV.
Does she expect to be treated like a princess even though we aren’t dating? I click the unlock and wait to see Greer’s response.
She doesn’t wait for me to open her door.
A flicker of disappointment runs through me. Did she not expect me to because I’ve been a mannerless brute this whole time, or because she’s an independent woman? Why do I think it’s the former, not the latter?
My mother didn’t raise a heathen, nor did I. Creed was taught to open the door for ladies. I rush over, grabbing the handle before she can get it fully open, and offer her a hand to help her up onto the running board, then inside.
Greer’s eyes linger on my hand.
Will she take it or turn up her nose because my hands are calloused and rough? Slowly, she sets her small hand in mine.It’s soft and smooth, just like I expected. What I didn’t expect was how good it would feel.
She’s wrapping her web around me. I yank my hand from hers as soon as she settles down. This was a foolish idea. I slam the door closed and stomp over to my side of the car.
You already promised, so there’s no going back. But this is it. No more Mr. Nice Guy. It’s too slippery a slope. A single woman of Greer's ilk is probably back on the hunt for a new man.
She certainly didn’t waste any time mourning the relationship…if that’s even what it was called. How foolish am I? Nice guys always get in trouble with women like her.
We sit in silence. The painful kind. Not the comfortable kind that I wish to enjoy more often.
How hard would it have been to give her directions and let her go on her way?
Why did I do this to myself?
Ten minutes. You can make it through the next ten minutes. While she shops, you can find something else far away from her.
“Did you grow up in Silent Valley?”
It’s a nothing question. Something people ask just to fill the silence. Yet the intrusive question makes me angry. I don’t want to explain to my hot neighbor about the stupidest decision I ever made, but how it ended up leading me to the place I was meant to be.
“And I seem to have made you grumpy again. Never in my life have I met a man who takes offense at everything that comes out of my mouth. Are you like this with everyone, or is it just me?”
How do I explain that I know enough about who she is, and I don’t want to know more? Asking an intrusive question of my own might be enough? “So why did you move to SilentValley? You had the whole world to choose from, and you picked this place?”
Greer twists in her seat until she’s facing me.
I won’t turn to look at her. Not because I need to keep my eyes on the roads—I know them well enough to probably drive the entire town with my eyes closed—but because I don’t want to see whatever emotion is playing through them.
“Because of the kids. I’ve never lived in a place where kids can just be kids. Where they can play without someone hovering over them. A place where there’s more laughter than sirens.”
