In a hurry now, I threw my bag in the car and turned it on, or tried to. It didn’t work. Nothing. Dead as a damn doornail, just my luck. I may have slumped against the steering wheel cussing for a minute before I pulled myself together. I had to get the car towed to a garage. I had to get someone to open the library. I called my assistant Heather and she said she could be there in ten minutes to unlock the place and open it up. I thanked her a bunch, and then I dialed the only place in town I considered a reputable garage. And that was, ironically, the one Drew bought off his dad.
“This is Casey’s,” the answer came. I let the breath I was holding out. It wasn’t his voice.
“Hi, this is Michelle Spelling. My car won’t start. I’m going to need it towed there to get it checked out.”
“Still live out on Maple?” he said. “This is John.”
“Hey, John. Yeah that’s where I live.”
“I can be out there in twenty minutes. I’ll give you a ride into the library if you hang on.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said.
I hung up, thankful for his help, and thankful it wasn’t Drew coming to pick me up. I would rather walk than ask him for a favor. Wait, no, that’s dramatic. I’d rather not have to deal with him. There, that was better. Less not-over-him and more done-with-him. I had to work on that mindset. It was well overdue.
I messaged Heather that I’d be there in half an hour give or take and thanked her again. Then I scrolled social media and tapped my foot and waited. John showed up right on time and gave me a lift. I’d only been at work about an hour when he called my cell.
“Michelle, your starter’s gotta be replaced.”
“Okay. What’s that gonna set me back?”
“Not too bad. The ring gear’s fine, so that saves you a bundle. Probably—” he covered the receiver for a second and then came back, “Three, three-fifty tops.”
“Great. Thank you. How soon can you get it done? This week?”
“Boss says it’ll be done by the end of the day. I’ll come pick you up and bring you to the shop to sign all the paperwork.”
“Thanks a lot, John.”
I was relieved that it would be ready so fast, plus the repairs were something I could afford. It was a load off my mind, and I didn’t have to bug Nic or Trixie for a ride after work either. They’d both be happy to help, but they had little kids and their own jobs as well. I didn’t want to burden them.
The rest of the day flew by. I did the preschool story time, which I did twice a week. I looked forward to it. I usually had about twelve kids who came pretty much every time, including Laura and Brody’s two-year-old Brenna who was gorgeous like her mom and full of sass. We did a Clifford story and then I let them paint a dog coloring page red by dipping a pompom in paint using a clothespin. I clipped their bright, messy pictures up on the clothesline I used to display the storytime crafts. Brenna of course had to have a selfie with her Clifford picture, which I sent straight to Laura who replied, “So Extra!” with a facepalming emoji. I knew it cracked her up. Mrs. Vance was so proud of Brenna, and this week she had Ashton, Trixie and Damon’s little boy, too. Ashton wasn’t really into the story. He listened to part of it and then wandered around the children’s section while Heather kept trying to herd him back to the group. He shouted UH OH! when he got paint on his shirt and everyone laughed. He was a charmer like his daddy for sure, and Mrs. Vance just glowed with how happy she was to have her grandkids with her.
My heart ached a little. My friends had these adorable kids, these loving husbands, and their parents were alive and were proud grandparents. I was happy for them. But I was envious as well. I reminded myself for the millionth time that this was the life I chose, and I liked it and it was a good, stable, happy life. And if my parents were gone, and I didn’t have any siblings, that was sad, but it was part of life. And if I didn’t have a husband or kids, it was because I turned down Jared Fisk three years ago. Not that I wanted to be married to Jared Fisk. It was just nice to remind myself I’d had options. At least I’d had options a few years ago. Maybe I’d go to the drugstore and grab a new eye cream to try later, I thought.
At seven, I put the newest historical romance in my tote bag to read before it hit the shelves and made sure I had tucked in everything properly at the library. When I went out the front to lock up, the truck I saw idling outside waiting for me didn’t have John inside it. The gleaming new dark green pickup with Casey’s Garage on the door was being driven by none other than Drew.
His hand slung over the steering wheel, his olive complexion and deep brown eyes, that jet black hair. Just sitting there, the truck idling by the curb, the picture of a man waiting patiently on someone. He wasn’t playing on his phone or anything, just looking out the windshield, his eyes fixed on some far-off point. So close I could have thrown my keys and hit him. Not that I wanted to throw things at him. I was past that anger, wasn’t I?
“Hey,” I said. “I thought John was coming to get me.”
“He got off at five. I knew you’d be the last one out.”
“I have to tuck the library in and sing it a lullaby,” I said. “That’s what Trixie says I do. I don’t really. Sing to it,” I finished, feeling awkward.
He got out of the cab and walked around and opened my door. Like he used to. Damn him. Don’t be a nice guy, the gentleman I knew you as. Be the callous jerk who dumped me for no good reason. It’s easier to hate you that way. Or at least it’s easier not to keep loving you if you’re not acting like the same Drew I’ve been missing. The one I dreamed about last night.
I got in the truck and pulled my damn self together. “Thank you, Drew,” I said, and he shut the door.
When he got in the cab, I was holding my tote bag to my chest like it was a life preserver.
“I’m not gonna bite you,” he said, “you seem wound up. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I said too cheerfully.
He rolled his eyes. Not with contempt. With humor. Like he saw through me that easily,
“I live up past the high school,” I said.
“I’m taking you to the garage to get your car,” he said. I felt my face warm.
“Right,” I said. “I—I appreciate you guys getting it fixed so quickly. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem,” he said.
I took a deep breath and willed myself to keep it together.
4
Drew
It was a risk, switching places with John without warning Michelle. But if I told her I was coming to drive her to the garage to pick up her car, she would’ve walked. Or gotten someone else to drive her. Or hotwired a car. Anything to stay out of a confined space with me. But I did it anyway. I sent John home at five on the dot, told him I’d take care of it.
She was even more beautiful than she was when we were growing up, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t affected by her. Truth was, nothing else had ever been as good. Not even for one day.
“Looks like it might rain tonight,” I observed.
“I didn’t watch the weather this morning. I don’t know,” she said absently, clutching her bag like she was nervous.
“You looking forward to the Fourth of July this year? I hear they’re doing the picnic and stuff out at the new community center this time.”
“I don’t usually go to the fireworks.”
“It was your favorite,” I said, then I broke off. I didn’t know her anymore, and I shouldn’t act like I did.
“Yeah, it was. I can’t remember why,” she said a little wistfully.
“The fireworks and the popsicles. You liked those red, white, and blue ones,” I said. Why did I say it? I sounded like a damn stalker, reciting every detail of who she was eighteen years ago.
“I haven’t had one of those things in years. I remember how great they were when you were hot from the summer night and running around with sparklers and stuff, and then it just cooled you right down and made your face and hands sticky,” she sai
d with a smile.
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
And now I was thinking about it. About the first time I ever kissed her, under a tree in the part on Fourth of July when she was fourteen and I was fifteen and neither one of us knew that was as good as it would ever get. A hot night with fireflies all around and our mouths sweet from the sticky popsicles, the music coming from the high school band on the stage, but we were out of the circle of the lights, out in the grass and barefoot under the starry sky before it was quite dark enough for fireworks to go off. I had held her hand earlier, and I was bold and kissed her, half afraid she wouldn’t let me. She’d kissed me back, her arms going around my neck, not letting me barely peck her lips and then backing off shyly, but reaching for me, kissing me back, going all in. We were both all in for the longest time.
I stared straight ahead and drove, lost in that memory. Thinking how sad it was we were both adults and strangers now.
“It would be fun to see Ashton running around, give him a popsicle and then hide so Trixie can’t beat me up for overloading him with sugar,” she said.
“Damon and Trixie’s kid? Yeah, he’s a cutie. He loves cars. He’s gonna ride on our tow truck in the parade, him and John’s girls.”
“He’ll love that. When he turned one, I got him an RC monster truck. I thought they’d kill me—he’s too little for it, he’ll tear it up. But he had mastered that controller by the end of the day.”
“I bet he was crazy about it.”
“He was.”
“Did he break it?” I asked knowingly.
“Yeah, it lasted maybe two weeks. But he got a lot of joy from it while it worked.”
When we got to the garage, she bounded out of the truck almost before I had it shifted into park. She was pretty eager to get away from me. She pulled out her debit card at the counter.
“Card reader’s down,” I said. “You got a check?”
“A check? What is this, the nineteenth century?” she teased. “Yeah, I keep a checkbook for geezers like you.”
She reached in her purse and dug around and swore. “I left it at home. I was writing out my water bill last night in the kitchen. Because they kick it old school like you do. No online bill pay.”
“You got me. I’m slowly taking over all the utilities and reverting to paper and pencil. Eventually I plan to take the bookkeeping back to the good old chisel and stone tablet,” I said. “Seriously, we do take cards, but the reader’s down.”
“I’m not trying to get away without paying you. If you can follow me home, I’ll get you a check.”
“You could just bring me a check tomorrow, Chel. I trust you.”
“I just want to get it over with,” she blurted out. She wanted to be done dealing with me, is what she probably meant. It felt like she’d punched me. She wanted me out of her sight and I knew why.
“Okay, I’ll follow you and you can get me a check. I’m going that way anyhow.”
“Thanks,” she said, giving me a rare smile, looking a little relieved.
I passed her the keys.
“Invoice?”
“It’s two-hundred even,” I said hedging.
“Great. That seems low, but I want a copy of the parts and labor. I’m a stickler for record keeping. It’s the librarian in me.”
I pretended to look around, “Huh. Maybe John had it in his pocket,” I said.
“Right. Where’s the invoice?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Drew,” she said. I felt my eyes drop. I couldn’t look right at her, not that those blue eyes, that golden hair I’d run my fingers through so many times. “You’re full of shit. Where’s the invoice?”
“There isn’t one,” I said.
“Why?”
“You needed a starter, no ring gear.”
“And that retails for $150 by itself. How much was the labor?”
“There wasn’t any.”
“So the starter just fell out of my car and the other one hopped in like magic? Did the birds and mice from Cinderella come by and put it in for you?” she asked sarcastically. “I can afford it, Drew.”
“God, I was trying to be nice. Can you just let me?” I said.
“No,” she said softly. “I can’t. Just let me pay for the whole thing, please. Parts and labor. That’s what’s fair. I can pay my own way. I don’t want to owe you.”
“You don’t. You wouldn’t.”
“Do you think doing me a favor now, one I don’t need, makes up for anything?” she asked, and then her cheeks turned bright red. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Out loud?” I said. She nodded. “I’ll make out an invoice and follow you home. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
“You didn’t,” she lied. “Just don’t act like we’re family or something. We knew each other in school. That’s been a long time ago.”
“Eighteen years.”
“Don’t remind me,” she groaned.
I scribbled out an invoice and handed it over. Then I locked up and went out to my truck. She had said giving her a discount on labor didn’t make up for anything in the past. She was thinking of it too, the way I’d broken her heart. That made everything worse somehow. I admit, I didn’t want her to forget we were ever together, but I wanted it to have stopped hurting her a long time ago. The fact it still upset her, she still thought of it, made me ache. To know that I’d hurt her so much that it hadn’t ever gone away.
5
Michelle
I could not believe I’d said that to him. I knew he was lowballing me, and I wanted to pay the full amount, not get the kind of friends and family discount you give to people you’re close to. Not when he made it clear a long time ago that I meant nothing to him. Don’t do me any favors, I thought, don’t think this buys your way back into my good graces if that’s what you’re looking to do. To pay for your sins. Because a few hundred bucks or a few thousand would never make it up to me.
I pulled into my driveway and looked up for a moment at the house, wondering how he saw it. It was the house I grew up in and inherited when my dad died. I’d had it resided, so it was a nice dark gray instead of stark white. I had geraniums blooming red in the planters flanking my garage, new white rocking chairs on the porch and old-fashioned patriotic bunting on the white porch railing. I was proud of how I’d made it my own. But did he just see the porch where he’d stood when my dad was talking down to him and wouldn’t let him come inside to pick me up? A swell of sadness nearly shook me, but I pushed it down. I parked in the driveway and got out.
Drew parked behind me. He got out of his truck, but he stood by it like he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t approach me. I paused and then waved him over.
“You might as well come on in,” I said.
He may have flashed a smile, or I may have imagined it. It was gone as quickly as I thought I saw it. He followed me up the porch steps and waited quietly behind me as I unlocked the door.
He stopped and looked around for a minute once we were inside. Gone were the stuffy, old fashioned things of my father’s. I’d spent the last few years making it mine and that meant simple, comfortable furniture, sage green walls, lots of three-wick candles and natural baskets and soft throw blankets. Inside it was cool and dim, the air conditioning working double time in a hot June. I switched on a lamp.
“It looks nice. It’s different now,” he said.
I saw his glance dart back to the front door and I couldn’t stop a laugh. I remembered the big, ugly umbrella stand of my dad’s that used to be right by the door. The one Drew had fallen over and practically woken everybody on the street one time when I snuck him in after my dad was in bed.
“You’re thinking about the time I tripped on the umbrella stand, aren’t you?” he said ruefully, a smile flashing in his dark eyes. I nodded and we both laughed.
“It was the first thing I got rid of once the house was mine,” I told him.
6
Drew
It was so weird to be back in her house, in the old Spelling place where her dad had barely let me in the door most of the time. I ate there two times in the four and a half years we were together, both times for her birthday because she insisted. I could still feel how tight my tie felt, how uncomfortable I’d been. How I wanted to throw my stuck-up cloth napkin at him and storm out because I’d never be good enough in his eyes. This was Michelle’s place now, I reminded myself, it had been for years. So no more wanting to spit on it or salt the earth here. You’re grown, he’s dead, and there’s no reason to let this get to you.
Still, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and didn’t even sit down while I waited for her to go get a check. A check I didn’t even want. I didn’t want to take her money or her dad’s money. God knew he offered me money to leave her alone, but I never took it.
“The way she loves me, you can’t buy that and you can’t erase it,” I had told him. Except I’d thrown it away all on my own, because she deserved better.
When Michelle came back, she handed me the check. Our fingers brushed for maybe half a second. It was enough to send shocks right up my arm. The chemistry between us had always been fiery, and the sizzle I felt from the barest accidental contact proved once and for all that it was alive and well. A spark of attraction that hadn’t ever died.
“Thanks for fixing my car,” she said rather formally.
“You’re welcome,” I heard myself say.
For a second, I thought she might ask me if I wanted some iced tea or anything, but apparently the way I treated her way back when was enough to stifle her natural southern hospitality. So I said goodbye and headed out. I let myself out and got back in my truck, feeling like my head was spinning.
Falling in Love: A Secret Baby Romance (Rockford Falls Romance) Page 3
