Page 17 of Drive Me Wilde

Nev comes out from the back. Nev is petite, like a tiny doll, with a perfect hourglass figure and a heart-shaped face to add to the whole porcelain doll look. Her tawny brown hair is clipped back off her face. Hazel eyes and flawless skin have always made her one of the prettiest women in town, but she never seemed to realize it. It wasn't in her nature to embrace beauty and vanity. She didn't need to be admired. Her shyness didn't come from lack of confidence. It came from not wanting to bother with the frustration and disappointment of an active social life. She was always comfortable in her own skin. I envied her for that.

"It's nice to see you back in town, Indiana," Nev says. She is one of the few people who calls me by my real name. I never mind it.

"It's nice to be back, Nev. And thank you for letting me stay a few nights. I'll try and get out of your way as soon as possible."

"Nonsense," she says as she pulls a stack of sandwich wrappers out from under the counter. "You can stay in our grandmother's room for as long as you need."

"I couldn't stay in El Honey's room—" I look at Kiki for back up, but she's shaking her head. "Really, the couch is fine."

Kinsley grunts. "Not our couch. The springs are starting to poke through the cushions. We badly need a new one, but Miss Cheapo over here won't agree to buy one."

Nev continues with her task of separating the stacks of wrappers. "I told you, go right ahead as long as you're paying for it."

"Uh, you're the older sibling and business owner, remember?" Kinsley waves it off. "Anyhow, you'll stay in Nana's room, and we can stay up till all hours of the night munching on chips and candy while we gossip about everyone in town. Which reminds me—I guess you met Rockhurst's newest young resident?"

It takes me a second to figure out who she's talking about. The notion of Jameson Wilde as a dad still hasn't sunk in properly.

"You mean Rio? She's adorable. Were we that mature and sophisticated at twelve?"

"Nope," Nev says matter-of-factly as she washes tomatoes in the sink.

Kinsley rolls her eyes at her sister. "I agree with you. Rio is advanced for her years, but I think it's because she was on her own a lot. Her mom worked several jobs, and from what I've heard, she was constantly going out partying and on dates and leaving Rio with whatever friend or neighbor was willing to watch her. Jameson is a good dad though. Better than his father, at least."

"You say that like it's impossible to believe." Nev slows her knife for a second to join the conversation. "Nana always said those boys had more human soul than most anyone else she met. I'm sure Jameson is trying his hardest to do everythingdifferently than his dad. If you think about it—Finn was the perfect model for exactly whatnotto do."

I smile at Kinsley. "I see your sister is still the wisest woman in the village."

Kinsley laughs. "She thinks so anyway."

I survey the shop. Several white picnic tables and benches have been set inside for dining. The walls are painted in vertical pale blue and white stripes, and one wall is covered with framed vintage science fiction movie posters. My favorites areAttack of the 50 Foot WomanandThe Day the Earth Stood Still. There are scantily-clad, bombshell-caliber women on both posters leading me to think things were a lot more risqué in the 50s than the boomers would have us believe.

"Where are my manners? What can I get ya? A soda or a cookie or maybe a tuna salad sandwich? It was Nana's recipe, and people love it," Nev says.

"I'm fine. I had pancakes at Jameson's house."

Kinsley laughs. "I'll bet you never expected to utter those words. Can you believe he bought that house? It was always the best one on the cove." Kinsley still seems to be the queen of the gossip world. "Most of us assume the money came from his mom. She's married to some mega-rich guy up north, in Montana."

"Really? I hadn't heard."

Kinsley's focus is pulled to the front window. She clears her throat loudly. "Zander alert," she mutters. Nev glances up from the cutting board, immediately puts down the knife and disappears into the back.

I look at Kinsley for an explanation, and she harrumphs at me. I forgot that Kinsley is a master at the art of harrumphing. "Please, you haven't forgotten that my sister carries a torch for Mr. Zander Wilde. And that torch has never faded."

"Shut up and let him in, Kiki," Nev calls from the back.

"He comes in here a few times a week for a roast beef sandwich," Kinsley explains as she pushes open the door.

It's been years since I've seen Zander Wilde. He was always sort of the wrecking ball of the family. You didn't want to get in his way on a football field or in life in general. He fills most of the small shop when he steps inside. He stands well past six feet with a shoulder width to match.

Zander pushes black sunglasses up onto his head. White teeth flash behind his smile. He is still as strikingly handsome as ever with his thick brown hair and his dad's blue eyes. "Holy smokes, is that the crowned jewel of Rockhurst High?"

He's one of those guys who makes you blush just by talking to you. I can feel my cheeks warm, and suddenly, I'm sixteen again, standing in the hallway and on the receiving end of one of Zander's winks. "I'm back but the homecoming and prom crowns are far behind me."

"Well, hell, thought you were living the high life down in Los Angeles. What brings you back to Rockhurst? Shit, does my brother know you're back?"

"A string of bad luck made me rethink my life down south, and if by brother, you mean Jameson, then yes, he knows."

Zander stares at me for a second. "Interesting." I have no idea how to interpret his comment.

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