Page 22 of Shifting Sands

She shrugs. “Well, this is a 1980 Dodge 150 Midnite Express, and you mentioned you got it for your sixteenth birthday, which was over twenty-three years ago. I just used my power of deduction.”

“I didn’t tell you the make and model,” I point out.

“I’m a mountain girl. I know trucks,” she says.

“A mountain girl?”

“Yep. Born and raised in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee,” she says proudly.

“And you’re here in Sandcastle Cove …” I leave the question open-ended.

“Temporarily,” she says. “I’m house-sitting for my aunt while she is visiting my cousin.”

Temporary. That’s good.

“And Erin and the other girl? Was her name Jena?”

“They’re friends from home. I’ll be here until after the New Year, but they just came to visit for the weekend.”

The New Year is months away.Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

Before I have time to process my thoughts, she speaks again. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question was that?” I ask.

“Your age?”

“Yeah, I’ll be forty next summer,” I admit.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how old I am?” she asks.

I shrug. “Nope.”

“You aren’t curious?”

I glance from the road to her. “I know better than to ask a woman her age.”

“Hmm …”

“What was that?” I ask.

“Nothing. It just must come in handy, not asking about ages when you work at a bar.”

“Well, it’s never been an issue because I’ve never left Whiskey Joe’s with a woman before,” I reveal.

She turns in her seat and crosses her arms over her chest. “Really? You expect me to believe that?”

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter if you believe me or not. It’s the truth.”

She goes silent for a few moments.

“What made you do it tonight?”

It’s a fair question; one I’ve been asking myself since last call.What am I doing?

“There was just something about you that made me not want to end the night.”

That answer must satisfy her because she turns back toward the windshield and settles into the black leather seat.

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