Page 57 of Digging Up Love
“Yeah.” She tipped the bottle of cider to her lips. “The heart wants what the heart wants, I guess.”
Was he going to ask if she’d told Simone about her plan to move? She half wanted him to, because it would make it easier to stay mad. Half hoped he wouldn’t, because the way the firelight caressed the planes of his face turned her insides gooier than Hershey’s in a s’more.
After a beat, he exhaled and took a seat on the log. Close. “So is this pretty standard on summer nights?” He leaned back, resting his palms on the log, elbows locked.
“Bonfires? Definitely.” She cradled the bottle to resist the urge to skim a hand down his arm, feel the smooth swell of muscle under her fingers. “What about you? I always wondered what it would be like to grow up in the city.”
“Less stars, more concrete.” He lifted a shoulder.
“Oh, c’mon. You gotta give me more than that.” She bumped her knee to his, soft, and felt her heart pinch. “What did you do for fun growing up?”
“Basketball, baseball, video games. The usual stuff.” He shifted his eyes to her, and flames danced in his shadowy pupils. “You?”
“Hayrides, barn dances, cow tipping. You know, country stuff,” she joked. “Nah, I’m kidding. Pretty much like yours, minus video games, because bo-ring. That was Simone’s thing.” She hesitated. He clearly wasn’t over their fight, and neither was she. Why not let him go? But her mouth betrayed her before she could weigh the consequences. “There is one thing you might not have done.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. C’mon.” She stood up before her tenuous bravery deserted her and marched off into the night.
CHAPTER 20
QUENTIN
“Should I be afraid? I feel like this is howTexas Chainsaw Massacrebegins.” Goose bumps chased their way up Quentin’s spine, and he cast a glance over his shoulder. “Or ends.”
“Ooo-ooo,” Alisha said and giggled, leading him off into the darkness.
He laughed, high-stepping over the uneven ground. “Way to put my mind at ease.” Lengthening his strides, he caught up to her where she stood unlatching the door of a dilapidated barn in the moonlight. “Are you about to go full-blown country on me?”
Alisha blew out through her lips. “Hardly.” She pulled at the door, but it stuck in the dirt. He gave her a hand, grabbing the splintered wood, and together they lifted it over the rut and swung it open. “You might have noticed I don’t quite fit in around here.”
“Because you’re not white?” He followed her into the sheltered gloom.
“No.” She grunted a laugh, scaling a ladder he could barely make out in the darkness. “Well, yeah. This town isn’t very diverse, so of course there’s been comments over the years. Ignorant ones. Rude ones. Most unintentional, though.”
“Doesn’t make it better.”
“No. It does not.” She reached the top and swung her leg over, disappearing from view. “But what I mean is, I don’t fit in with the other women in town. I don’t love canning vegetables or raising animals or knitting my own scarves.”
With a last look out the door, where flickers from the bonfire broke the inky blackness, he stepped deeper into the barn. Musty air enveloped him, and he sneezed. “Is that why you want to leave?”
Alisha’s head appeared over the edge, shadow against shadow. “Animal husbandry and domesticity?” She huffed another laugh. “No, not really.”
She put a piece of straw in her mouth and drummed her heels against the bales. He smiled. Whether she’d admit it or not, she’d definitely gone country since they’d left the fireside.
“For one thing, I don’t love the idea of raising kids in a small town.” Her words came out garbled, and she plucked out the straw before continuing. “I want my children to have more opportunities at their fingertips. And I don’t want them to feel like a token, like I did. I want my children to grow up surrounded by all different kinds of people.”
Quentin tried not to add this to his list but failed. A small check mark went next toWants a family. He almost missed out on what she said next.
“Mostly I just miss civilization.” She laughed again, a lighter sound than before. “I was raised in the Chicago suburbs. So moving here was a bit of a culture shock. Growing up, we used to visit my grandparents in the city all the time, before they passed away. And we’d take the train into downtown to explore museums, the beach, festivals. Christkindlmarket at Christmastime. Taste of Chicago in the summer. I always told my mom I wanted to live in the city when I grew up.”
Her voice hitched, and if not for the darkness, he would have dropped his eyes to give her a sense of privacy. “I’m about ten years late, but I’m finally making good on my promise.”
During her speech, he’d remained standing on the wooden floorboards at the foot of the ladder, and now Alisha leaned farther out, teeth flashing in a wide smile. “Doing okay down there, city boy?”
Something skittered up his arm, and he slapped it off and danced away, knees high. Her cackle swooped out of the darkness.
“Just fine.” A total lie.
