More reason to start looking for a new place.
“Tess asked about Scrabble this week,” Jude says then, sliding her empty plate of biscuits and sausage gravy to the end of thetable. She picks up her coffee cup and cradles it between both of her hands, peering at me over the rim. “It’s your turn to host.”
Fuck.
“Right,” I sigh, scrunching my face up and stabbing a bite of French toast with the tines of my fork. “I will make sure I’m all unpacked and ready for Scrabble night.”
“I’ll bring the vodka.”
“You always bring the vodka,” I deadpan, staring at her over the next bite of my food.
“Because you girls don’t get the good stuff,” Jude tuts, rolling her eyes and taking a drink of her coffee. “Quality spirits make a difference. Bet that tequila you drank last night wasn’t the good stuff. Probably why you’re so hungover today.”
“Grandma, I’m a broke twenty-four-year-old. I can’t affordthe good stuff.”
“We just need to find you a handsome sugar daddy,” she says thoughtfully, looking around the diner like she’s going to pick one out right now from a nearby booth.
“Grandma Jude!” I exclaim, my face heating. I sink lower into my side of the booth. “Absolutely not!”
“Well, he doesn’thaveto be handsome, but it does help, Louise.”
“Ohmygod,” I groan, burying my face in my hands and shaking my head. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
Thirteen
Zach
The foghorn siren ringtone I have for Chief’s contact has me moving instinctually, and I’m already up and out of bed before I answer it and put it to my ear. “Chief.”
Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I’m already shoving my legs into jeans and searching for socks as Chief relays the details of the fire. It’s bad, and they’re calling in extra help from neighboring stations, which includes all on-call crew members like myself. I listen and then speak back the info, making sure I have it all correct, before we hang up. A multi-family apartment complex. Fuck.
I’m shoving my arms through a t-shirt and lift the phone back to my ear as I make a call to my mother, the call ringing several times before going to voicemail. “Shit.”
I hang up without leaving a message, remembering a conversation we’d had the other day about her being out of town for the night. Dammit. I can’t leave the girls here alone—
Chewing on my lip, I glance out the window toward Lou’s cabin. I’ve avoided her like the plague for the last week. I feel like a fucking jackass after that night last week in her kitchen, but there’s so much I can’t explain as to why this is such a bad fucking idea. I’d been this fucking close to kissing her, to letting myself get lost in her—
“Fuck it,” I mutter, shoving my feet into my boots and stomping out the door. I cross the lawn that separates our front doors and tell myself I wouldn’t be doing this if I had any other options. I know it’s late. All of her lights are off, and I’m sure she’s asleep. But I’m desperate.
I knock, louder than I normally would. It echoes through the darkness surrounding me and I cringe.
A light turns on somewhere deep in the house, and I can hear her moving toward the door. “He-hello? Who’s out there?”
“Louise, it’s Zach. I’m sorry—”
The door opens and I take the flash of a heartbeat to admire the picture before me. Louise, dressed in nothing but a skimpy tank top and the shortest pair of sleep shorts I’ve ever seen. Her long blonde tresses are secured in the long braid I’m coming to associate with her, but it’s messy and loose, strands framing her face. A line bisects her cheek, like she was sleeping soundly and her pillow left a mark there. Fuck I wish I was that pillow.
“Is everything okay? The girls—”
“They’re fine,” I murmur, cutting off her rush of words. I don’t have the time to reflect on the concern in her tone, or the way those green eyes are wide with worry. “I got toned out to a fire,but I forgot my mom isn’t available to watch the girls. Could you—”
“Of course, go,” she rushes to say, stepping forward out of the door and closing it behind her. She’s barefoot, and I want to bark at her to put shoes on first, but her hands are on my chest, shoving me backward off her porch. “Go, Zach. I’m right behind you.”
“Thank you,” is all I can say as we match our strides together back to my place. “I owe you.”
Louise follows me through the door, and I reach for my truck keys. I hesitate at the threshold, looking back at her. Fuck, I want to say something, anything—
“Go,” she urges again. And I nod, jangling the keys in my palm. “Be careful.”
