Page 81 of Feverburn

Zay giggled, “We were in high school, so it wasn’t this sweeping romantic moment, but yeah, he was cute.” She shrugged. “He’s a good guy.”

I looked between her and Kaylee, trying to piece this small-town puzzle together. “Did you ever date a Kouris?”

Zay snorted, “No, I saw Harley eat a worm when we were little and couldn’t take him seriously after that. I’m not into chicks, so Frankie was off-limits, and Carson is all cursed and cranky. I’m barely brave enough to look him in the eyes.”

I grabbed a laptop and held it against my chest, “I guess it’s good you have Noah.”

Zay tucked a shiny strand of brown hair behind her ear with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“You’re dating him, right? I thought you two were a thing.”

Kaylee’s eyes bounced between us with a wry smile. I was onto something.

“Oh, we’re just friends,” Azalea offered, shifting her weight from one hip to another. “He has a girlfriend back in Montana. I guess it’s kind of serious. We hike together. And birdwatch.”

Kaylee picked up her iced coffee, tilting her head to sip with the straw in the corner of her mouth, “And you do his laundry,” she added.

Zay grunted and threw her arms out, “He’s a ranger. The cabins don’t have great amenities, so I wash his clothes at the inn—big whoop. Poor guy would have to do it by hand. I felt bad. Plus, he forages herbs for my teas. I consider it an even trade.”

Kaylee smiled and took another sip, then bent down to pet Moose. “Back to my original question, were you with Dane?” she asked.

Not wanting to lie, I tried to sound bored as I turned away, opening the laptop. “Nope, definitely wasn’t with Dane.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

I was hesitant to be back in Boston, but the promise of time with Carson and damn good music outweighed my nerves.

As usual, I met him at his cabin and parked my 4Runner in his garage. It was fun to slide into his truck as he held the door open for me. I yelped, seeing the black thong I gave him months ago wrapped around the gear shift. Iplayedit cool but felt like abadass. He was sofilthy. I loved it.

His large hand rested on my thigh as his honey sage eyes flashed to me in the passenger seat.“You lookgorgeous, baby,”his deep voice barely intelligible above the roar of his diesel truck.

I wore a black lacy crop top, black velvet bell bottoms, and boots that looked straight from the 70s. I finished the look with celestial-themed jewelry and bronzed makeup. I felt beautiful before leaving my loft, but hispraisehit differently.

“So do you,”I squeezed his shoulder, covered in a black shirt that clung to his broad build.“Thank you for taking me and getting us a room for the night.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As we drove away from Maine, the song“Ring of Fire”by JohnnyCashcame on. I didn’t expect him to sing with me. He was tone-deaf. But I sang along, applying lip gloss in the mirror.

Loveis a burning thing,

And it makes a fiery ring,

Bound bywilddesire,

I fell into a ring of fire,

I went down down down, and the flames went higher

And it burns burns burns, the ring of fire

He gripped the top of the steering wheel with a gulp, slowing down and causing a small red sports car to zip around his truck on the freeway.

“Carson?”I prompted, hoping toriphim from his daze.

He jumped and mashed the stereo button, changing the song.“Sorry. IhateJohnnyCash. He sounds like a miserable drunk ghost yodeling.”

Yeesh. Note to self: no JohnnyCash.“Where’s Kiszka?”I asked, trying to distract him.

---