Page 65 of Reluctant Chemistry

As Luka drove toward Lime Tree Hill Saturday morning, his inner voice kept telling him to carry on to Petrie Bay and lose himself in the waves. It was a flat day with gray cloud sitting long and low on the horizon. His lips quirked in a wry smile. Flat and gray: yep, that pretty much summed him up these days.

He’d thought about CeCe often since that day in the lab several weeks ago. Her fierce handling of their conversation and the way she’d dismissed him without the emotion he’d expected. So different from that last day at Tulloch Point. But that had been the eighteen-year-old version of CeCe Dobson. People changed over the years, particularly when moving from a teenager into adulthood, and the CeCe of today had embraced adulthood in style.

When he approached the packing shed, the place was deserted, unusual for a Saturday. With some hesitation, he walked up the loft stairs and knocked on the open door.

CeCe popped her head around the dividing wall between the kitchen and entry. “Luka. What are you doing here?” She stepped toward him.

Luka fought to keep his gaze from drifting the length of her body. Dressed in leggings and a baby blue hoodie, her hair pulled up into a high ponytail, she looked way too sexy. “I was wondering if we could have a word.”

“Sure. I was about to go for a run, but come in.” She gestured toward the sofa. “Grab a seat.”

As he sat, CeCe crossed to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle, her subtle perfume hanging in the surrounding air. He wanted to close his eyes and inhale but stopped himself. Instead, he studied his surroundings, expecting it to look the same as when Mitch lived there, but she’d given the place a major makeover.

A woven wool rug took up the floor space in the seating area, and around the dining table sat six chairs dressed in various autumn shades of velvet—two rust, two deep-aqua, and two scarlet. Books covered both sofa side tables, stacked high and coordinated by the color of their spines, and on a rustic dresser, a tousled bunch of blush roses dipped their stems into a tall white jug. While the decor surprised him, it suited this new adult CeCe—eclectic but sophisticated. Much like CeCe herself.

Luka picked up a photo from the sofa table and studied it. “Who’s this? She’s wearing your butterfly.”

“That’s my friend Anna.” She leaned back on the counter, her arms crossed. “I gave her that necklace on her sixteenth birthday. Her parents returned it to me after she died. I used to wear it a lot at first, but I don’t so much now.”

“She’s pretty.” Luka studied the picture before putting it down again. “It must have been tough, trying to make sense of her death.”

“Yes, very. You hear of people going to bed healthy and not waking up but never think it will happen to someone you know.” CeCe smiled sadly. “That firstwhy?is the hardest part. Then comeswhy wasn’t it me? before the wholeit was just her timecliché.”

“Had you been friends for a long time?”

CeCe took a jar of tea bags off the shelf above her and unscrewed the lid. “Since we were twelve. We played tennis together. By the time we turned seventeen, we were riding around in cars with boys and down at the beach, having fun.” She paused. Took a deep breath.

“Then the year we turned eighteen, Anna met this older guy, Dillon. He was a prize jerk. Used to bum money off her and cheated every chance he got. She wanted me to see him in the same false colors she did, but I was never one to paint guys like him with shimmer and gloss. So we agreed to disagree. In the end, I told her about the cheating, and it ripped us apart, and I meanripped. She never spoke to me again.”

“You made the right call.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Even after all this time, I still sometimes question my motives. Realistically, I know I couldn’t have done anything to save her, but rational thoughts don’t protect you from the irrational ones. Her death was hard, but in some ways, the regret’s even harder. Do you get what I mean?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Anyway, enough morbid talk.” CeCe placed two mugs on the counter. “Green tea?”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, I meant to congratulate you on your Horse of the Year win.”

Luka smiled as he recalled looking into the stands and seeing that mass of curls and striking face. “So, itwasyou I saw, checking me out through those binoculars.”

She shrugged, poured water into the mugs and dipped the tea bags up and down. “I’ve joined this group, and they do something different each month. This month, it was HOTY, no pun intended.”

Her giggle had an immediate effect, and Luka shifted in his seat as he relaxed. This was the CeCe she’d channeled when they first met, the one he’d so often longed for over the years. And the more time he spent in her company, the more she reminded him of Kombi Girl.

“Besides, I wasn’t checking you out. I was watching Inca.”

“Of course, it’s always about the horse. Anyway, how did you enjoy it?”

“Loved it. It appears you’re quite the accomplished sportsman.”

“Yeah, I like to keep fit. You’ll never see me in a gym, though. Can’t stand them.”

“Me neither.” CeCe’s face lit up with a shy smile, and she stilled. “To be honest, in those white jodhpurs and black boots, you caused quite a stir among my friends.”

He chuckled. “And people say men objectify women.”

---