Page 86 of Sassy Love
She smiles at me and takes a quick glance at Carlie, who’s tapping on her phone.
My phone vibrates and I look down at the screen.
If the road gets too rough, I might have to collect.
Sweet Jesus.
Come on, Rubes, do a guy a solid and hit a pothole.
That all it takes?
Maybe . . .
The truck does in fact hit a pothole, and Rubes swears under her breath. My sister is more and more like my brother every damn day. She worries over his big black shiny truck just the same.
Carlie’s hand slides underneath mine. I close my fingers around hers.
I text back.
You’re serious?
I don’t like not being the one in control when it comes to cars.
Figures.
She runs every aspect of her life like clockwork. I always thought that was driven by ambition. Maybe it’s fear of failing, instead?
“You two good back there, or do I need to pull this truck over?” Rubes says.
“Hey, that’s my line.” Gracie laughs, her hand rubbing her belly. “Got to practice beforehand, you know.”
She’s going to be a great mama.
“No, we’re good,” Carlie says, retracting her hand. The loss of her touch is immediate, and I hate it.
I’m way past the friend zone. And after the flight, those moments of distraction...
Miles was right, I’m a goner. I’ve gone and fallen for the one woman I can’t have. I shouldn’t want. We’re competing for the same position.
She doesn’t date.
We can’t afford any distractions from the disaster threatening to end Serenity for good, leaving women and children vulnerable.
And the last, but still very real, aspect of this scenario—eight short weeks ago, this woman hated me.
We loathed each other.
What happens if it doesn’t work out? Does hate rear its ugly head again, only to leave me broken?
The white cabins with their red trim on R & R Ranch are spectacular. This time of year, as fall turns the landscape around them a pretty orange hue, even more so. I carry our bags up the few steps and onto the small porch.
Carlie follows, our carry-ons in her hands.
I push through the door and set the luggage down as I take in the space. The guest cabin is separated by a wall. The living and dining area is open. The only door to the bedroom sits to the left of the dividing wall. One of Gracie’s landscape oil paintings of the mountains outside hangs on the wall.
The sofa, flat-screen, and fireplace fill the right, and the small ranch style kitchenette fills the left.
Carlie wanders through the door to the bedroom, looking around. I follow, hands in my pockets as she takes in the quaint space Rubes created for guests.
