Page 76 of Just Like Home

The sound of footsteps outside stopped her breath for a split second.

Was Lucy expecting someone?

Charlotte’s heart raced. What if it was Marcia? Her texts had grown angrier the longer Charlotte ignored her. Finally, Charlotte had texted twice to let her know she was fine, just taking some much-needed rest.

Marcia’s response?

This is not the time to rest. You are destroying

everything we’ve built.

We. As if Marcia could claim Charlotte’s success.

And maybe she could. Maybe Marcia’s endless pushing was the reason Charlotte had achieved success.

But why was she thinking about Marcia when there was a would-be prowler outside?It’s not like her mother was savvy enough to track Charlotte down, and she’d left no indication of where she’d gone.

Slowly, Charlotte moved back the sheer curtain in the living room, just enough for a view of the dimly lit front porch.

Sure enough, there was someone out there, but it wasn’t her mother—it was a man. For a fleeting moment, she wondered why she was relieved by that.

Shouldn’t a strange man be more frightening than her own mother? Was it strange she wasn’t positive about the answer to that question?

The man didn’t seem to be making any attempt to break in to Lucy’s cottage, but who was he and what was he doing just standing out there?

Maybe Lucy had a boyfriend she hadn’t told Charlotte about?

She squinted, hoping for a better view, but his back was to her. He stood, like a statue, for several seconds, then turned, as if he was going to leave. At the top of the steps, he stopped and stared out into the dark night.

He raked his hand through his hair, angling slightly toward her, enough for her to see that this wasn’t a burglar.

It was Cole.

Perhaps a burglar would’ve been preferable.

Why was Cole Turner on the front porch? Had he come to apologize for general moodiness and jerkery? She decided she wouldn’t accept his apology unless it came with flowers or donuts.

And she didn’t even eat donuts.

Fearing he might see her, she dropped the curtain and tiptoed toward the front door, peeking out through the window on the other side. Nobody stood on a porch that didn’t belong to them for this long. What was he doing out there?

Her head spun with possibilities, as he turned in a circle, drew in a breath, and seemed to let out a heavy sigh.

Cole faced the door now, standing inches away like he might finally knock or ring the bell. He lifted his fist, then quickly dropped it and darted off the porch.

Charlotte sprung toward the entry and pulled the door open, just as he reached the bottom of the stairs. At the sound of the door, Cole stopped and turned around, and as he faced her, embarrassment washed across his face.

She stood behind the screen door, wondering what the expression on her face looked like to him.

For several seconds, he didn’t move. He looked caught, like a child who’d been out throwing toilet paper into the neighbor’s trees only to have the lights flipped on.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re home.”

Her eyes shifted over to her rental car in the driveway and then back to him. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked at something on the ground.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone reminded her of the one he liked to use. She didn’t care to be polite, not after the way he’d spoken to her at the football field the other day. She watched as he looked down the street toward where a car had just pulled into a neighboring driveway.

It was almost nine o’clock, and while it was summer and Harbor Pointe was still very much awake, it did seem kind of late for an unannounced visit.

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