Page 81 of Suits and Spark Plugs

“I’m working my way out of that.” I repeated the mantra I’d been telling myself. “I’m going to finish school, move away, and live a life full of happiness.” I slammed the dishwasher door shut and wiped my hands on my apron. “And you aren’t going to tell Connor one word about this conversation.”

“Someone has to tell him.”

“Not one word. Your loyalty is with me. Besides, this is a good thing. I wasn’t looking for a man in my life, remember? Time to focus on good old number one here.” I pointed at myself and left the kitchen with Kelly hot on my heels.

“But Liv, I’m friends with him. I could help...”

I turned to her and cut her off with a glance. “Not one word.”

* * * * *

I watched as Connor’s truck pulled into my driveway at noon on Monday. I’d tried several excuses to get out of lunch, even going so far as to tell him my cat had been hit by a car—a cat that did not exist. Desperate times and all that. In the end he’d been firm, and I wasn’t willing to tell him the real reason I didn’t want to spend time chumming with him.

I’d spent a full hour grooming myself and trying to pick out the perfect outfit that would say: I tried, but I only tried as a buddy would try, not as a girl who considers this a date. Normally my routine took about fifteen minutes, which mainly involved taming my curls. Makeup wasn’t something I gave much thought to. Today the outfit and makeup had mattered, which was silly, because this was Connor, who had seen me looking pretty rough a few times. Connor, who I was trying to end a friendship with. Still, I had my pride. Plus, maybe I wanted him to see what he’d be missing out on once I was gone.

He opened the door and climbed down from his truck, looking amazing, and my heart gave an extra thump as I watched the way he walked toward the door. He’d always been athletic, but with adulthood had come a more relaxed confidence. I tugged at the hemline of my forest green sweater before I flung the door open and scampered out when he reached the porch steps.

“Hi,” I greeted. “Beautiful afternoon, huh?” I was carrying a light windbreaker jacket over my arm just in case the mid-April weather decided it wanted to turn. I walked quickly to his truck and pulled open the door at the same time that he was reaching for the handle.

“It is. How are you?” he asked.

“I’m good. Hungry.” I tugged the door shut and heard him chuckle as he walked around to his side.

“Is it still too cold to grab some sandwiches and eat in the park? We could sit inside the restaurant if you want to be warmer.” He started up the engine and backed into the street.

“Outside is great.”

Conversation flowed lightly—and really cheerfully if you ask me—on the drive to the sandwich shop where we ordered two subs, two bags of chips, and two drinks before driving to a local park. When he’d tried to pay for my lunch, I’d stopped him and insisted on covering my own. Lunch was for friends, after all.

We found an open bench at the top of a rise that overlooked the walking paths and basketball courts. The grass was still a yellow color, but the sky was blue and cloudless, and I enjoyed the fresh air and smells of new life around us.

“How’s school going?” Connor asked.

“Good, good. I have finals coming up in a couple of weeks, so gearing up for that. I have a few papers to write, but holding steady. Mom quit her night job, so having her around to help with the house is taking some load off.”

“I’m glad. I know you had a lot you were trying to balance.”

“Yep. We’re doing great. How about you? How’s the shop?”

“Good. Busy. I’ve got those three part-time guys, but I’m thinking about bumping two of them up to full-time and expanding how much we can take on.”

I nodded. “That’s great. How’s your dad?” I asked before taking a big bite.

“My dad asks about you all the time. You made quite the impression on him.” Connor’s chuckle made the back of my neck tingle.

“I’m pretty good at making an impression.” I gave him a toothless smile around the bit of sandwich. “Good or bad doesn’t seem to matter.”

“It was good, I promise.”

“I liked him.” I took a sip of my drink. “Tell me about him.”

“My dad?”

“Yeah.”

Connor’s eyes grew thoughtful, seeing something I wasn’t privy to. While he thought, I savored the chance to watch his profile. He’d been good-looking the first time I’d seen him as a teen. Time had given him sharper features, all clean lines, a face I found even more fascinating now.

“He’s a really good man, a good father. He’s been alone for most of what I can really remember. Mom left when I was eight. I do remember before she left Dad was more...I don’t know...tense, short-tempered. I think it must have been hard living with someone who was so determined to be unhappy. Now he’s laid back and easygoing.”

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