Page 3 of The Rebound
“There’s not a lot of other reasons to go to Clonard.”
He’s got a point. But before I can respond the girl stomps back out of the hut, pausing as she takes us in.
“It will be eighty-five euro,” she says, her attention flicking between us like she doesn’t know who to focus on. “But you’ll be waiting awhile. There’s a—”
“Match in Hollybrook,” I finish. “I heard.”
If looks could kill. “So?” she asks. “Do you want me to order one?”
I hesitate, looking back at the man. I’m not usually one to accept rides from strangers but…
He catches my eye. “Offer still stands,” he says.
The girl’s eyes narrow. “What offer?”
Thirty seconds later I follow him across the parking lot, feeling only a little smug as she stares furiously after us.
“I’m Luke, by the way.”
“It’s nice to meet you.”
He glances back at me as if I said something funny but doesn’t say anything as he opens the trunk of a small red car.
“Do you live in Clonard?” I ask as he takes my case, fitting it in between a pair of muddy running shoes and an empty cardboard box.
“I sleep there. That’s about it.”
I don’t miss the way he keeps a respectful distance between us, as though careful not to crowd me. He offers me a choice of the front or the back seat, keeping the lights on when I slide in beside him.
It’s a nice car. Worn but clean and smelling strongly of coffee, though I can’t see any evidence of it.
I need to learn to drive. Dad gave me a few lessons as a teenager but neither of us had the temperament for it and he was terrified I was going to hit every wall I saw. I toyed with the idea of getting my license in college, but there were always friends to take me where I needed to go and then I moved to cities with plenty of functional public transport systems and never had any need to.
Maybe I could get cheap lessons while I’m here.
Maybe I just found my teacher.
I glance at my mystery savior, now cast in shadow as he pulls out of the parking lot. He’s smiling to himself, a slight tilt of the lips that I find insanely attractive, and I wonder what someone like him is doing in the middle of nowhere.
“Been living in the States?” he asks. I look away before he can catch me staring.
“New York. I had a job over there.”
“Had?”
“Had.”
He takes the hint. “So youarecoming home.”
“I’m visiting my sister for a few days.” Weeks. Months. Oh God. “She would have picked me up but her husband’s a nurse. He’s working late shifts this week and they only have one car. I thought I’d be fine getting the bus.”
“This is the problem. We haven’t had a decent bus route in years. The government want us to cut back on our emissions but won’t give us the proper resources to— What?” He breaks off, catching my look. “What did I say?”
“Nothing. Sorry. It’s just you sound exactly like her.”
“Your sister?” He frowns. “Is that a bad thing?”
“No.” Sometimes. “So were you at the match in Hollybrook?” I ask, eager to change the subject. “Is that why you’re driving around so late on a Friday night?”
