Page 45 of A Surefire Love
He was right. Even when the family member was troubled, it hurt. “Who else did you lose?”
“Huh?”
“You said it’s never easy, like you’ve been through it more than once.”
His mouth opened, then closed with a frown, and he studied the table. When he lifted his gaze again, his lips hooked up playfully. “You sure that’s the story you want in exchange for you telling me about your nickname?”
His sudden levity suggested it wouldn’t be worth the trade. But could she trust the change in demeanor? Or was his initial thoughtful hesitation a better clue to the significance of his story?
Before she could decide, he brushed his hand over the table as if to wipe away crumbs and stood. “Maybe next time. Good night, Blaze.”
How could he walk away so suddenly? This conversation had unlocked a whole new dynamic between them, and she longed to explore.
She rose. “You play it close to the chest, don’t you?”
She stood close enough to hear his exhale and smell hints of cedar and amber from his soap or cologne. He put his hands in his pockets and didn’t answer.
“Thank you for telling me about the accident.” She squeezed his arm in reassurance. The firm muscle under her fingers suggested he could more than look out for himself.
“I’m glad you told me what happened too.” A notch appeared between his brows. “That couldn’t have been easy.”
“Easier than carrying it longer than I already have.” She collected her purse, and he walked her out.
She hadn’t believed him when he’d said he had more stories to tell, but as she drove home, replaying their talk,she was no longer sure. Her guess? His sudden joking tone when she’d asked about who he’d lost was a defense mechanism, hiding something even more formative than the team’s accident.
Maybe the reason she’d always assumed his life was perfect was he projected that image. Tonight, he’d given her a glimpse of the truth.
17
“Who wants to help with raking?” Anson clapped in a bid to rally enthusiasm.
The middle school students sat facing forward, yet not one of them met his eyes. Only Mercy and Hadley had signed up. Blaze probably didn’t give her sister a choice, and Hadley never missed an activity.
The others treated the three-hour event like a prison sentence. A total of six students between both youth groups were on board. Meanwhile, eight adults—not counting youth leaders—had signed up for something that was supposed to be a youth service project. The leadership board wasn’t happy. “The more of you who come, the more fun we’ll have, and the more people we can show God’s love by helping with their yards.”
“I’ll be there.” Nolan lifted his hand.
None of the kids followed suit.
“You guys know it’s a competition, right?” Blaze’s question drew everyone’s attention. “After we work, we’ll come back here for pizzaand”—she stretched the word, despiteAnson’s motion to stop inventing plans—“whichever team rakes the most yards gets to throw a pie at the leaders.”
The kids traded wide-eyed looks.
So much for the students serving the community to show God’s love to their neighbors. Pizza wasn’t in the budget, and the leaders hadn’t agreed to be pied.
Blaze was lucky he liked her.
He cleared his throat, because even the thought rang too loud.
Blaze was not the woman for him. He’d gone to The Depot last Thursday figuring if he had a real conversation with her, he’d see for himself all the reasons they were poorly suited for each other.
The plan had backfired. He couldn’t get her out of his mind. He even missed a pass during game time because he’d been watching her instead of the ball.
“How many people on each team?” one of the boys asked.
Blaze scrunched her mouth in thought. “As many as you want, but there are only three leaders, so there will only be three pies to throw.”
There would also be two Branching Out leaders, but Anson didn’t mention it. Three pies were more than enough.
