Page 25 of Secondhand Secrets

“Damn it, Ally.” Even as Ally shook her head and backed away, Emilia lunged forward and snatched the phone from her fingers. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

Stuck between wrestling this smaller woman, or allowing Emilia to take over where Ally lacked courage, Ally just gawped and muttered a weak sounding question, “What are you doing?”

“Saving you from regret.” Emilia tapped away at Ally’s phone, occasionally peering through her lashes to shoot Ally a stern stare. “Chip is all grown up now, so give the man a chance to prove himself. In a few short weeks, you’ll know if he’s your dud of the decade or the man of your dreams.”

Twelve

Ally knocked at Chip’s front door, a mild ache lingering across her knuckles as she eyed the pale, beveled wood plane before her. Footsteps grew louder from inside, signaling his approach and causing her to back away on the porch’s crackling aged timber.

Before long, he appeared at the threshold, his lips the slightest bit parted while his gaze did a slow glide down her body. “I thought you were joking.”

She peered down at herself, at her sheer blue wrap shrouding her orange and pink polka dot bikini. “You got my message?”

She lifted her gaze to him leaning a shoulder onto the doorframe, his arms crossed while an all-too-knowing smile curled his lips. “Yeah. I just kinda ignored it, though, because—”

“You thought I was joking.” Her voice held an embarrassing huskiness, and she took to staring blankly at a side window. One she recalled led to his living room while she debated whether to tell him the message wasn’t hers so much as Emilia’s.

Still, I’m here, aren’t I? I own this now.

She glanced back to him, a frown now dragging at those expressive lips of his, his narrowed focus bringing heat to her cheeks. Not a good sign, given his less-than-enthusiastic reception.

What did he see right now?

A famously desperate woman trying to get the attention of a man she’d already turned down?

“It’s hot out.” She swallowed the thickness coating the inside of her throat and gave a wobbly smile, vowing to dial down the desperation and revert to the charade of wanting to maintain nothing more than an old friendship. What a wimp. “I thought maybe you’d like to visit our old swimming spot at Mirabelle Falls.”

He cocked his head to one side, his eyes giving little away. Though his gaze flicked down her body again, his acknowledgement of her swimwear sent tingling ripples over her skin. “You want to swim?”

“Yeah, yah know, escape the heat for a while?”

Her jaw hurt from all the forced grinning, but she powered on, at least for the long and painful moment where he said nothing, only to let out a sigh and push away from the doorframe.

“I guess no more work was happening today anyway. Come on in. I’ll change and grab my towel.”

He turned and wandered away, his cool scent washing over her as she took a few timid steps into his home, still too rattled to enter the living room proper. “I brought a cooler full of food and drinks, and I’m driving.”

“Fine with me.” His muffled voice coupled with the thud of his footsteps somewhere farther down the hall.

She tried not to analyze every detail of his house which, in all honesty, hadn’t changed all that much since Sarah’s move, as if she’d taken little with her to Dean’s place. Within moments, Chip’s footsteps returned, and he strode into the living area wearing a loose T-shirt and swim shorts, a towel draped casually over his shoulder.

He held both hands out to his sides in a silent request for her approval, that silence weighing on her as she eyed his ruffled hair, all-too-easy demeanor, his mussed-up appearance evocative of how he’d looked awakening at her house only that morning.

“That should do.” She swallowed against the raspiness in her throat and spun around to lead the way out the door and to her car.

Each crunching step on the driveway’s gravel had her cursing her nerves in what should have been a simple exchange. Cursing Emilia for her stubborn-headed meddling. Cursing herself again for going along with this ridiculous plan.

He’s leaving. And I’ve already rejected him. What did I think would happen?

And sure, maybe Emilia had a point about not missing opportunities, but even captured opportunities had the potential to hurt those ass-backward enough to grasp for the near impossible.

Chip finished locking the front door and then jogged down the porch steps. Meanwhile, she wrenched her car door open and set about starting the engine. Within moments, he landed in the passenger seat, his face turned to her in her periphery, even though she pinned her focus ahead.

“Productive day?” She savored the pretense of being busy with reversing out, even as she dug her nails into the steering wheel’s hard leather, and her muscles felt all weak and jittery.

“Yeah. You could say that.” His warm tone ricocheted within her car’s small cabin.

She made no sign of noticing. “Oh, yeah? Care to talk about it?”

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