Page 19 of From Nowhere

He adjusts in his chair, an uncomfortable squirm. “Whatever you think I’m saying that’s so right and effortless, it’s dumb luck.” When his eyes meet mine, we hold each other’s gaze for a few seconds of silence.

“Well.” I break it first, picking at the toppings on my half-eaten slice of pizza. “Luck is on your side.”

“And yours.”

I laugh. “How do you figure?”

“I had your back in the men’s room.”

I flick a black olive at him, and he jerks to the side so it lands on the floor behind him. “I thought we weren’t ever going to talk about it again.”

“You’re the only one talking about it.” He slides out of his chair and picks the olive off the floor. “I justmentionedit. There’s a difference. Anyhow, I have to go. Thank your roommate for loaning me clothes.” Ozzy disappears into the laundry room.

Minutes later, he emerges in dry clothes, except for his wet jacket, which is still on the porch. I get a good look at his shirt for the first time and laugh.

“You fix things. Good to know. I hope you fix them well, since my life sort of depends on it.”

He steps onto the porch with me right behind him. “Your safety is my number one priority. It was before we ever met. And now that I’ve met you, I’m going to drive every other mechanic crazy with my constant need to check and recheck everyone’s work. In return, you have to prioritize your safety too. You have to do your part.” He finishes tying his boots and scrunches his nose while threading his arms through his wet coat.

To keep from touching him, because I fear I wouldn’t be able to stop, I busy my hands with his zipper, working it up his torso like dressing a child. “Thanks for the flowers.” Our proximity hits me whenI meet his gaze, stealing my breath. I let go of his zipper and take a step back.

“They’re just flowers.” He shrugs. “I didn’t buy them. I just picked them.”

Biting my lower lip, I shake my head. “Youjustpicked them,” I whisper with a soft chuckle.

“Maren?”

“Hmm?”

He flicks his gaze over my shoulder. “If I weren’t riding off into the proverbial sunset on a bicycle, I’d kiss you. But my life is complicated, so I have to take it slow.”

More slow dancing.

“That’s my line when I fly off into the literal sunset. Slow works for me,” I say.

Ozzy shakes his head. “And you thought I was the one saying all the right things.” His lips twitch. “Good night.”

“Night.”

When he passes me, the back of his hand slowly grazes mine.

“Now you’re just teasing me.” I glance over my shoulder just as he peeks over his and winks.

I’m a goner. Single dads who say all the right things, pick the perfect number of wildflowers,andhave the perfect hand brush before riding off into the sunset on a bicycle are officially my new favorite drug.

Chapter Six

Ozzy

The following morning, the foot of my bed dips, rousing me from a good dream about flying. Three weeks before the car accident, I got my pilot’s license. And now I may never use it.

“It’s Saturday, pumpkin. Do you want to crawl into bed and go back to sleep with me?” I mumble, rolling to my side and pulling the covers over my shoulders.

“Not really,” Amos says.

I quickly lift onto my elbows, blinking hard to see in the dark.

He stands, then opens my room-darkening shades, and I squint as the light burns my retinas.

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