Home > Craft (The Gibson Boys #2)(34)

Craft (The Gibson Boys #2)(34)
Author: Adriana Locke

“I did have plans,” I tell him.

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes. “You had plans. But you cancelled them, right?”

“No.”

He doesn’t flinch. “All right. Well, cancel them now so we can get on with it.”

I start walking down the sidewalk. His car rolls alongside me.

“You look beautiful,” he offers.

“Will you stop the manners thing?” I laugh.

“I didn’t use it that time. You’re supposed to follow a compliment with another line. This time, I spoke from the heart which is in the manners book, but not a method I’ve tried until now. Like it?”

“You’re impossible.”

Stopping at the base of the path leading to my front door, I feel my confidence wobble. I’m not sure what to do now that he’s here. Surely him being here means something. But when you’re trying not to read too much into it, you lose perspective.

Before I can think about it too much, Lance directs the conversation for me.

“Go grab a book and come on. That’s all you’ll need,” he says. The car goes in park. “Maybe a jacket if you get cold easily.”

“I haven’t even eaten yet.” It’s a weak argument, but at least it’s not me giving in right away.

“Bring it with you then.”

“Fine,” I say, heading up the walkway. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Don’t forget to cancel those plans!”

I flip him the bird as I unlock the door. It takes a couple of minutes to spritz myself with some perfume, grab my sunglasses and a jacket, and to swipe the book I’ve been reading off my nightstand. It might only be two or three minutes, but it’s long enough for logic to kick in.

This is not going to help anything. There’s no way we can keep our hands off each other and each touch frays my judgment.

Pulling open the curtains just enough to see him in the driveway, I notice he’s out of the car playing with the neighbor’s puppy. He throws a stick and the little black ball of fur goes after it, topples head-over-paws, and then races back for a scratch behind the ears.

Damn it.

I think back to what Whitney said. That maybe people change. Could Lance change? Could he want to be the type of guy who settles down to raise a family? Could I change? Could I just go with the flow and see what happens?

He tosses the stick again for the puppy now ripping across the lawn. If I don’t go, if I play it safe, I won’t spend time with him again. I’ll stay inside and maybe bake something or open a book or clean the bathroom. But if I take a chance, I get to feel this little zip of excitement. Feel like a person who has something to wake up for tomorrow. I get to smile again.

I’m sliding into his car before I even realize I’ve left my dinner in the foyer. He wastes no time jumping in, switching on the engine, and backing out of the driveway.

The windows are down, the fresh air whipping through the car. I pull my hair up into a quick up-do to keep it from tangling. Lance watches me with rapt attention.

“Road,” I say with an elastic between my teeth. “Watch it.”

He laughs, nodding. “What did you get at Carlson’s?”

“A bacon, avocado, and tomato sandwich but I forgot it at home.”

“Excited much?” he grins.

Jabbing him with my elbow, I get my hair twisted and secured. “What do you get from there?”

“Roast beef, usually. They have a really good pesto wrap thing that I only order when no one is around.”

“Why?” I giggle.

“Because what man orders a fucking wrap?”

“You, apparently.”

“And if you ever tell anyone, that’ll be it for you.”

“Gonna kill me?” I tease.

“No. Withhold the dick.”

“Oh, gee. Please. Not that,” I fake cry. He glares, making me laugh.

The car takes a quick left and into the parking lot of Goodman’s.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

“We need drinks and they have the best ice.”

“Truth. I found the pebble ice here my first day in town,” I say, getting out of the car and closing the door. “Their Coke is good too.”

“It’s a fountain machine. They’re all the same.”

“They are not all the same. Some machines are better than others.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I know so,” I tell him as the automatic doors slide open.

Goodman’s is a typical Mid-West gas station filled with pre-packaged donuts and the scent of too-strong coffee. Old men in bib overalls stand around the corner talking about crops and combines and farm animals.

There’s something I love about this place. It might be because whenever I walk in, everyone stops and waves or that the time I had a flat tire, every old man in here tried to help me fix it. It’s an old-fashioned sense of camaraderie in the small town that I appreciate.

“Hey, Lance!” A man three times his age with duct tape around the top of his shoe calls out, coffee cup in hand. “How are you, bud?”

“I’m good, Dave. How are things with you?”

“Not bad. I told Walker last week I hadn’t seen you in a while.”

Lance waits for me to join him at his side. “Been busy,” he says. “You been hanging around Crank?”

“Ah, a little. With my wife gone now, I’ve been trying not to sit at home all the time.”

Lance frowns. “Her funeral was really nice though. I’m sure she would’ve loved all the carnations. I think every carnation in town was at her service.”

Dave beams. “It was. Made me proud.” He pulls his attention away from Lance. “I’m Dave,” he says, extending the coffee-free hand my way.

I take it and give it a soft shake. “I’m Mariah. Nice to meet you.”

“You Lance’s lady?”

“Ah, well …”

“Yeah. She’s my lady all right,” Lance grins, wrapping his arm around my neck and pulling me towards him as I blush. “You know how it goes. You have to keep reminding them until they believe it.”

“This one here is a good one,” Dave says, shaking a finger my way. “Comes from good people. All of those boys are good.”

“But I’m the best,” Lance whispers into my ear. “Dave, we gotta go. I’m taking her up to Bluebird before it gets too dark.”

The old man tosses a wink, like he and Lance share some secret. “You kids have fun.”

“Give Walker a hard time for me,” Lance tells Dave as he moseys out the door.

We make our drinks and Lance pays. We’re almost back to his car when a cute guy with blond hair comes our way. A hat is pulled snugly over his forehead, a Metallica t-shirt that’s been washed a time too many is stretched over his broad shoulders. On his face is a shit-eating grin.

“What’s going on?” he asks, coming around my side of the car. “Is this Miss Mariah?”

“How do you know my name?”

Lance drops his head and sighs. “Mariah, this is my cousin Peck. Peck, yes, this is Mariah.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says. He smells like engine grease and Old Spice as he pulls me into a hug. I look at Lance but he just throws up his hands and unlocks the doors. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“No, you haven’t,” Lance corrects him. “Now get out of here.”

Peck’s eyes are a pure blue, the color of the ocean in pictures of exotic places. There’s nothing but kindness reflecting back as he looks at me.

“You have, have you?” I ask. “What’s he been saying?”

“Oh, just that—”

“Peck, I’m warning you,” Lance growls.

“Just put your glasses on and get in the car and read a National Geographic for a while,” Peck teases him before looking at me. “How do you deal with him?”

“It’s hard,” I say, looking at Lance over my shoulder. “He gets so grouchy. And bossy. Is he this way with you?”

“Nah,” Peck laughs. “He’s just showin’ off for you. Around the rest of us, he knows his place.”

“That’s with my foot in your ass in a minute,” Lance tosses over the roof of the car. “Can we go now?”

Laughing, I turn back to Peck. “It was really nice to meet you.”

“Same.” He salutes Lance. “Have fun.” With a final grin, he jogs into the building, the purple bandana in his back pocket flopping in the breeze.

I get settled in the seat next to Lance. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“I don’t want to make this weird between us at all …”

Just saying that makes it weird. I look at the floorboard where a piece of gravel sits all bright against the black carpeting.

“Mariah? Ask me,” he says.

“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “I guess it’s not so much a question as a statement.”

He lifts a brow. “Fine. Say it.”

“Fine.” I take another deep breath. “I really do like spending time with you. People always make assumptions and that has to put you on the spot a little because I know what you think about those type of things, but—”

“Hey.” He waits for me to stop talking before he continues. “I like spending time with you too. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t keep doing it.”

“Okay,” I say, looking straight ahead. “I just wanted to get that out of the way.”

He laughs as he pulls out of the gas station. “I’m glad we got that settled.”

Twenty-Three

Mariah

“Wow,” I say, stepping into the soft grass. “This is amazing.”

Lance leans on the hood of his car, an arm extended towards me. Like on auto-pilot, I step next to him and take in the view.

   
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