A noise inside catches my attention and through the window, I spot Eliza tiptoeing and stealing furtive glances around like a first-time intruder.
The minx is sneaking out.
You’re not getting rid of me that easily.
I give her no warning. “Where are we going?”
She gives a tiny yelp and scrambles to catch the shoes and bag clutched to her chest.
“We?” she chokes out, eyes wide.
“I made myself clear last night.”
Eliza looks around, puffing her rosy lips. It’s endearing. She’s desperate for an out. Not this time, kitten.
“The library is hardly an exciting attraction.”
“I’d beg to differ. The Internet informs me it’s a historical landmark. One of the top ten must-see things in town.”
Her mouth hangs open in the most adorable way.
“It’s going to be boring and full of kids.” She makes another valiant attempt to ditch me.
“Nonsense. I love kids.” She doesn’t have to know I always avoided the office on the days when teams were invited to bring their offspring to parties.
She levels me with a distrustful glare but steps outside while I bask in the sweet taste of victory.
“Get in,” I tell her, heading for my car.
“I can’t roll into town in that.” She points to the Maserati with the grimace of someone stumbling on roadkill.
“Does this car offend your sensibilities?” I honestly don’t see the problem. “You had no problem when I dropped you at work.”
She takes a deep calming breath and struggles to give me a reason without offending me. “It was an emergency. It’s too much for Silver Lake Falls. People will talk when I get out of your car.” She falters, begging me to understand.
I pause to consider her situation. The recent scandal with the cheating boyfriend, no job. People see what they want. I don’t care too much, but I’ll leave this town and she’ll stay here with gossip trailing her.
“How would you propose we get there? You can’t possibly mean—”
Her grin is blood-curdling. “My truck!”
“No.”
“It’s perfect for these roads and going aroundtown—”
“How old is it? When did you last have it checked?” Her mouth opens a few times to respond but I’m not done. “Does it have airbags? Air conditioning?”
“It’s a fifteen-year-old, mint condition truck, last checked six months ago,” she counts on her fingers. “And I don’t plan on driving into a tree,” she finishes, like a seasoned salesperson.
“If you don’t feel safe, you can stay here and be one with nature.” She has the audacity to smirk, thinking she won this round and I’ll let her leave by herself.
Do I want to spend time around her that much? I can learn how to make wood carvings.
Who am I kidding?
“I hope you have good insurance,” I tell her over my shoulder while yanking the door open for her to climb in. “My family won’t be kind if something happens to me.”
I catch the tail end of an exaggerated eye roll and prepare for a rough ride.
