Page 8 of Conception
Now that I’m here, I’m eager to see her. “I’ll get settled and changed, then head over to Mickey’s. I have orders from Grams to lounge by the lake, read to my heart’s content, take plenty of photographs, and—most importantly—have fun.”
She pats my hand softly. “I don’t think you’ll have any problems if Sunny’s involved.”
That’s precisely what I’m counting on.
At the same time, I’m wondering about the stranger with the soulful brown eyes and arousing lips. Sure, I wasn’t about to let my guard down for him or even introduce myself, but there’s a piece of me that hopes Sunny knows him, that he’s not the creep (the super, incredibly hunky creep) my brain should have told me to run from.
Because on second thought?
The distraction of those vivid eyes, those full lips, and those large hands I didn’t have quite enough time to admire sounds like a pretty damn good way to spend my summer in Crystal Cove while trying to forget everything I’ve lost here before.
Maybe next time, I won’t play so hard to get.
THE CAR TAKES OFF SOabruptly that I have to jerk back so the girl doesn’t run over my shoes. Red taillights gleam across the wet pavement, and I stare after her, rain dripping down my face. Another crack of lightning shoots across the sky. I barely notice. I’m too focused on the girl. She seemed frazzled, her green eyes wide with terror when I knocked on her window. I want to follow, ensure she gets to where she’s going.
Something, however, tells me she wouldn’t appreciate it.
Still, with the crazy heat wave hitting Tennessee and much of the South, we’ve experienced stronger storms than usual lately. Even downed trees blocking roads across the county, according to the crackling radio.
With a curse, I jog back to my car and hurry inside. A towel hits me across the face the moment I slam the door.
“Thanks, jackass,” I say, wiping my face off and running the fabric through my hair in hopes of not soaking the driver’s seat. Probably a lost cause.
“What was that about?” In the passenger’s seat, my younger brother, Clay, watches me curiously. I’m not even sure why he decided to come along for my summer break when he’s got a woman back home who’s usually attached at his hip.
“No idea. She wouldn’t roll down the window. Not even an inch.” An image of those pouty, plump lips scowling at me replays in my mind. “A bunny in a bangin’ car like that? Hell, I just hope she gets where she’s going with both of ’em in one piece.”
Just as I utter the words, I do what I’ve been telling myself not to: I follow her. When she turns right onto a small lane, I do the same.
“What the hell are you doing, Knox?” Clay asks.
I turn to glance at him. “What?”
“I told you to go straight back there.”
“Oh. Yeah, well, she seemed shaken. I just want to make sure she gets to wherever she’s going.”
“Ah.”
That one word has me side-eyeing him. “Ah, what?”
“She must’ve been one hell of a ‘bangin’ bunny,’ as you so called her.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you said she wouldn’t even talk to you, yet you’re following her home. That’s not creepy at all.”
My hands grip the steering wheel, irritation setting in because he’s probably right. Not that I’ll admit it. “Fuck off. According to the sign, this is a dead end. Soon as she’s parked, I’ll turn around and head towards my place.”
“Whatever you say, bro.”
I’m not sure why I’m following her. There was something about the way she white-knuckled the steering wheel, practically banging her forehead on it, as if she were trying to beat some unwanted thought out of her mind. Or maybe it was the flash of terror and then annoyance in her animated eyes. More likely, it was the fact that she couldn’t be bothered by me, even though I could tell the last thing she wanted to do was drive away.
So here I am, following a random stranger home, for no good fucking reason.
She parks at the last house on the lane, and I wait for her to get out.
“All right, she’s good,” Clay tells me, and I hold a hand up to silence him.
