Page 10 of Heartbeat Highway

“No, I’m okay.” My gaze fixes on Bo’s hands, so steady on the steering wheel. Bo has amazing hands. His fingers are long andnimble, and because he’s a drummer, he has all these calluses and muscles I don’t think normal people have.

I sniff and look away again.

We pass a cheerful sign announcing our arrival in Saddleback, Tennessee. There’s a smaller billboard beside it, proclaimingBest BBQ in the State.

My stomach growls again. The way my body reacts to stress is to send all my hunger cues out of whack.

Without saying a word, Bo turns into the parking lot before a square-shaped warehouse. A neon sign hangs on one end that says Roadside 14 BBQ, and a line twenty people long stretches out the door.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Bo parks the little sedan between two massive pick up trucks. “You look hungry. You probably haven’t eaten in hours, and stress always makes you hungry. Besides. I love barbecue.” He unbuckles his seat belt and steps out of the car.

I don’t move. I’m not sure I can. Between the post-exam adrenaline withdrawal, the jet lag, and the crushing heartbreak, my muscles are mostly lactic acid.

Plus, I’m severely under-caffeinated. Trust Bo to have seen it. If I were with K—

But I’m not with K. Not any more.

Bo opens my door and stands before it, hand outstretched. “Come on. It’s just food and a chance to use the bathroom. Then we’ll get back on the road.”

With the door open, the meaty, smoky scents of barbecue wafts into the car. My mouth waters.

“Okay.” My voice sounds hollow, but I take Bo’s hand and use it to get out of the car. He holds it a moment longer than necessary, a moment that stretches between us, that’s filled with heat and longing and years of friendship. Why couldn’t I have dated Bo instead of K?

I pull my hand from his grasp, releasing me from the futility of this musing. I follow Bo to the line, which moves quickly. Heavenly scents perfume the air. What is it about biscuits? Somehow that concoction of butter, salt, flour, and buttermilk is the perfect food, fluffy and warm and comforting.

Bo sniffs the air, tilting his handsome face toward the sky. “It smells amazing.”

One of the women in front of us turns, her dark brown eyes twinkling. “It is. The pit master is a classically trained chef. Don’t miss the brisket.”

K always hated barbecue. When we went out, he liked going to all these scene-y places, the kind where I’d spend all this time I didn’t have trying to make my hair look effortlessly chic, only to have it frizz. If I’d ask him to have a quiet night in at home, it was never just snuggling on the couch, eating popcorn and watching movies. He’d either expect sex and then he’d want to go out clubbing, or he’d invite other people over to make it into more of a party. Not to have sex together, though there was that one time, and I’d gone home after I said no, but what did he…

The red flags hit me, one after another, like a ping pong ball turned into a shank.

Bo inches forward in line. The scents of butter and spice and meat hang in the air, tantalizing and rich. “What do you want, Lily?”

“A new start.” Tears well in my eyes and my throat, and I cough to choke them down. I can’t believe I was such a fool. How did I let myself get here? I should have left K ages ago.

Bo wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes, and it feels like sinking into a hot bath at the end of the long day. “You’ll have it. You deserve someone who appreciates you.”

The woman who recommended the brisket turns to me. “Did some asshole cheat on you, honey?”

Nodding, I swallow.

The woman shakes her head. “Men are dicks.” She looks at Bo, who’s holding me up, and inspects him like he’s in contention for best in show. “Except possibly for him. He looks like a good one.” Her gaze travels down to Bo’s hands, and the drumsticks sticking out from the back pocket of his jeans. “And he’s a drummer? Honey, you got to lock that down. Not just to show what’s-his-nuts what for, but for yourself. We all deserve to live our best lives.”

Her friend elbows her. “Donna, if you’re done dispensing advice for the day, we need to order.”

“We’re just friends,” I say, my mouth feeling dry. Bo’s arm tightens around my shoulders.

A smirk crosses Donna’s face. “Sure you are, honey. Enjoy your lunch.” She turns to the woman taking orders at the counter.

Bo drops his arm from my shoulders, and I shiver. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I say. “Order whatever you want.”

CHAPTER 5

Bo

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