Runaway Road

by Devney Perry

  Unfortunately, by the time I’d run away at sixteen, I’d picked up her spelling habits. Mom didn’t write much—she didn’t need to as a lifelong junkie—but when I’d been eight, I’d taken over responsibility for going to the grocery store around the block.

  Wanting the escape, I went almost every day, and because my scrawny arms couldn’t carry more than three bags home. Mom would send me with a tattered sticky note covered in her messy script with words spelled entirely wrong.

  Melk. Bred. Sereel.

  The few teachers I’d had in my early years had tried to correct my spelling. Some had succeeded. Others hadn’t cared. But I’d gotten by. Who needed to spell when you worked at bars and understood your own notes?

  I hadn’t seen it as a flaw until I’d married Thomas.

  I’d never forget the look on his face when he’d seen my GED study notes. It was one of the most humiliating moments in my life. He’d stared at me like I was a broken child, not an adult, a grown woman and his wife.

  From then on out, I took care to double-check every single word before writing it down. I’d spent hours with a dictionary in hand. I still carried a pocket version in my purse. Math, science and world history would never be my forte, but damn it, I could spell. And my vocabulary wouldn’t betray my upbringing.

  After another two blocks, I changed direction for the motel, hot and ready for an iced coffee. Meggie had set up a small coffee area in the motel’s office, and this morning, all of the chairs had been filled with locals. Gossip flew from one end of the reception area to the other. Some bounced to the counter, where the clerk whipped up coffee and kept watch over the covered cake stand.

  Free, black coffee was available to anyone who came through the door. Fancy espressos and the treats under the glass dome were for paying customers only. The scone I’d inhaled this morning rivaled any I’d found at my favorite patisserie in Boston.

  At the next intersection, I stopped and looked both ways, getting my bearings. Then I took a left, hoping I’d come up on the back side of Main Street. When the sound of an air gun filled the air, I tensed.

  It was a sound often heard in a garage—a squeak and a puff of air with a compressor churning. Whenever my mechanic in Boston had called to talk about the Cadillac, that sound had been a constant in the background.

  Somehow, I’d gotten turned around and ended up behind Brooks’s garage.

  I slowed, contemplating a retreat. I didn’t want Brooks to think I was hovering. Though I did want to see my car and find out what was happening. That wasn’t weird, was it? I was in the area. A brief stop in wasn’t hovering, even if I’d been over yesterday.

  Plus I’d get to see the mechanic himself. I wasn’t going to be in Summers long. I might as well add fodder for my future fantasies while I had the chance. Maybe today, Brooks would be in a different color T-shirt.

  Decision made, I walked to the large open door and peeked my head inside. This wasn’t a large garage. There were only two stalls and a small office in the back corner. The tow truck was parked alongside the building in a gravel lot.

  “Um . . .” I raised my hand to knock, except there was no place to knock, so I awkwardly tucked it away. “Hello?”

  My car was in the same place it had been yesterday. The tire was no longer flat. Beside it in the next bay was a minivan raised in the air on a hoist. Tools were strewn on workbenches. The scent of grease hung in the air.

  Not a soul was visible.

  Which was probably for the best. Now that I was standing in the middle of the doorway, this seemed more like stalker than concerned customer. I spun around, hoping to make a quick escape, but a deep, sexy voice stopped my retreat.

  “Londyn.”

  I froze. Shit.

  “Uh, hi.” I waved, turning around as Brooks came striding out of the office. “I was just walking around town. I passed by and thought I’d come to check on my car.”

  That didn’t come across as stalking but it sure sounded a lot like I didn’t trust him at all to do his job.

  “Car’s fine.” He grinned. “Still alive.”

  I blushed. My hand was in the air so I pulled it down, tucking it away. Then we stood there, him staring at me while I looked around the room. Why was this awkward?

  Oh, right, because he was gorgeous and somehow I’d forgotten how to speak to gorgeous men. Or because I couldn’t stop thinking about stripping him of that T-shirt. Today, Brooks had traded his white T-shirt for a black one with a round crest printed on the center.

  Cohen’s Garage. The logo was made out of a gear. It was vintage in the way that it had once been a modern design—meaning, actually vintage. The short sleeves banded tight around his biceps, showing off the definition between shoulder and triceps. The cotton stretched across his pecs. I’d never fawned over a T-shirt so hard in my life. What I really wanted was to see it tossed on the floor of my motel room.

  Another rush of desire pooled in my lower belly and the flush in my cheeks burned hotter. I was drooling. And staring.

  You’re staring.

  “I’m going to go.” I spun on a heel and marched away from the garage. The heat of desire shifted to the scorching flame of humiliation. Jesus. I was such a mess. His gaze burned into my backside as I scurried. There was no doubt he thought I was a lunatic.

  “Got that phone?” Brooks hollered after me.

  I pulled it from my pocket, holding it high in the air.

  His chuckle followed me out of the parking lot.

  After the disastrous stop at the garage, I hid in my motel room for the remainder of the day.

  I turned on the TV, doing my best to get lost in another movie, but unlike the Pennsylvania hotel where I’d struck movie rerun gold, nothing caught my attention.

  Not trusting myself to inadvertently wander back to Cohen’s Garage, I stayed within the confines of my room until my stomach growled and I went in search of food. My first stop was the office, hoping I’d find a restaurant or two willing to deliver.

  “Hi, Londyn.” Meggie smiled as I walked through the door, the bell dinging over my head.

  “Hi, Meggie. Do you have any places in town that would deliver dinner? I walked all over this morning and I’m worn out.”

  Today’s miles in bad shoes had been a harder workout than I’d anticipated. Maybe because I was so out of shape. In Boston, I’d been religious about the gym up until I’d found Thomas with Secretary. I didn’t need glutes of steel or a flat stomach when the only person who saw me naked was me.

  That, and I really liked delivery. I’d never bothered learning how to cook.

  “Sure do.” Meggie opened a drawer and lifted out a stack of menus.

  I raised my eyebrows as she fanned them on the counter. “More options than I would have expected in Summers.”

  “If I could make a recommendation, how do you feel about Thai food? The place here makes the best curry you’ve had in your life.”

  “I could eat curry.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” She smiled, picking up the phone. “If their delivery driver is coming, I might as well place an order myself.”

  Meggie got on the phone, not even introducing herself before placing the order. I guess whoever she was calling knew it was her or had seen the motel’s number come up. I gave her cash for my part of the order and she took care of the rest.

  As she talked, I paced around the reception area. All of the chairs were empty now, the locals who’d come in for coffee having gone home while I’d been in hiding.

  The stretch in my legs was welcome after lying around all afternoon. I probably could have explored and found a dinner spot, but while I assumed Summers was a safe place, I didn’t go out on foot at night.

  Habits and all.

  After running away from home, I’d spent a few dark nights wandering alone. I’d never felt such crippling fear as those times. Nothing had happened to me, thankfully, but the fear had been paralyzing enough.

  It had nearly driven me
home. The fact that it hadn’t, well . . . it spoke of how bad things really had been with my parents. Once I’d found the junkyard, I’d made it a point to always be inside before dark. If I was working late, Karson would escort me home.

  To the Cadillac.

  “Should be here in thirty,” Meggie said, the phone clicking onto the receiver.

  “Thanks. You must be starving.” She’d ordered two plates of curry for herself and one for me. Or maybe their serving portions were small.

  “The second’s for my neighbor.” She jerked her thumb to the wall. “I like to keep him fed.”

  “Ah.” I nodded, then took one of the chairs.

  “So you did some explorin’ today?”

  “I did. This is a beautiful town.” I relaxed deeper into the seat. “Have you lived here long?”

  “Going on thirty-five years. Me and Sally moved here together in our twenties.”

  Meggie took my question and ran with it, recounting story after story about life in Summers. I hardly spoke a word, happy to listen to her tales with a smile on my face.

  I hated small talk, mostly because it felt forced. When I’d worked for Thomas, it had been. But this felt different, like things had this morning on my walk. Maybe it was the way her hands flew in the air as she spoke. Maybe because she didn’t expect me to utter a word. But this small talk felt more like friendship.

  She was in the middle of a story about how she and Sally had sunk a boat in the middle of a nearby lake when her eyes lit up and the door opened.

  A teenage boy strode inside with two plastic sacks in his grip. “Hi, Miss Meggie.”

  “Yes, yes. Set ’em down and give me a squeeze.” Meggie was off her stool, rounding the counter. She pulled the boy in for a hug, then looked him up and down. “Wyatt, you’ve grown an inch in a week.”

  The boy shrugged. “I’ve been hungry lately.”

  He was tall, standing at least six inches above Meggie’s head. She was about my height, at five five, so I was guessing this kid was close to six feet tall and still growing. He was long and lean but would likely fill out that broad frame.

  In a way, he reminded me of Karson at that age. He’d grown fast and long too, so much so that the Cadillac had gotten too small for him to sleep inside. He’d traded the backseat for the outdoors during the warmer months. On the few chilly nights of California winter, he would cram himself in by my side, bitching about how his legs didn’t fit.

  I smiled, thinking of how I’d curl into his side and fall asleep laughing.

  “How’s football practice going?” Meggie asked.

  Wyatt shrugged again. “Hot.”

  “Only gonna get hotter.” She pinched his cheek—he let her without a wince or fuss—then she dove into the bags he’d brought along. “Say hi to Miss Londyn.”

  The boy turned and gave me a nod. “Ma’am.”

  Oof. These West Virginians and their ma’ams.

  I stood from my chair and fished out a five-dollar bill from my pocket. I hadn’t carried my Louis Vuitton purse anywhere in Summers because it was snobby. I was already planning to donate it somewhere. Besides that, what the hell did I have to cart around? All I needed was some cash and the motel key on the little plastic key chain that read Room 5.

  “Thanks for the delivery.” I held out the money for Wyatt.

  His eyes widened. “Oh, that’s okay.”

  “I tipped him,” Meggie said.

  “Consider it a bonus.” I pushed the money into his hand.

  I’d survived once on tips. My hourly wage had been shit at the pizza place where I’d worked as a kid. My tips meant I got a new pair of shoes once a year and that I could afford the necessities like toothpaste and tampons.

  Since I’d been able to afford it, my tips had become overly generous.

  This boy didn’t seem to be hurting for money. His Nikes were new and his jeans hadn’t come from Goodwill—I could recognize secondhand clothes from a mile away. Wyatt probably didn’t need the extra five like I had at his age, but he seemed like the type who’d appreciate it.

  He stared at the bill in his hand, then carefully tucked it into his pocket. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Wyatt turned and walked to the door, giving Meggie and me another wave and shy grin as he left.

  “That boy.” She shook her head.

  That boy, what? I waited for her to explain, but she only pulled out white Styrofoam containers from the plastic sacks.

  “Now I know you might want to disappear into that room of yours.” She clicked her tongue. “But if I could make a suggestion?”

  “Sure.” I collected my meal and a plastic fork.

  “There’s a nice place to sit behind the motel. It’s a rock, so if you’re not into nature, then forget it. But it overlooks the lake and you’ll get a nice view of the sunset.”

  “I’m good with nature. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Technically, it’s my neighbor’s rock. But since I’m buyin’ his dinner, I doubt he’ll mind if you borrow it for a night. Now out you go before that curry gets cold.”

  “Thanks again, Meggie.”

  She winked, then followed me out the door. As we rounded the corner of the building, she pointed to the rock past a cluster of trees. “See you tomorrow.”

  I waved goodbye as she strode across the lawn to her neighbor’s house. It was a two-story white home, not new but well maintained. It wasn’t fancy, but it was nice. Really nice. Especially with the wide porch that stretched along its front with delicate spindles along the rail. Meggie didn’t bother knocking as she marched up to the front door and let herself inside.

  What a character. I laughed, turning my attention to the lake.

  The rock was easy to spot once I got closer, and Meggie hadn’t lied. It was enormous and nearly as long as a picnic table.

  It stood about a foot off the ground and I stepped up, settling into the flat surface with my meal on my lap. I was no stranger to eating food perched on my legs. The curry spice and fresh jasmine rice filled my nose as I opened the container.

  “Oh my God,” I moaned with that first bite. Meggie hadn’t lied. This was good curry.

  I heaped another bite on my fork, brought it to my mouth, then proceeded to fling the food into the air as a voice came from behind me.

  “I see Meggie gave away my favorite dinner table.”

  A grain of rice lodged in my windpipe. I coughed, choking and my eyes watering, as Brooks rushed over.

  “Shit.” He slapped me on the back, then rubbed up and down my spine.

  I coughed again, managing to dislodge the rice and swallow. My eyes were blurry and my heart was racing when I finally managed to suck in a deep breath.

  “Sorry. Thought you heard me walk up.”

  “No.” I put a hand to my chest, taking in more air. “It’s okay.”

  His hand stilled on my spine. “Good?”

  “I’m okay.” Convenient that Meggie hadn’t mentioned Brooks was her neighbor.

  I closed the lid on my dinner, setting it aside to stand, but Brooks waved me down. “Stay.”

  “Oh, no. I can eat in my room.”

  “This is a big rock. Mind if we share it?” he asked.

  “Uh, no.”

  “Good.” He grinned, creating a flutter in my chest. Who grinned like that? Only one corner of his mouth turned up, and wow but it was sexy.

  Brooks settled on the rock about a foot away, stretching his long legs toward the water. Then I saw why I hadn’t heard him approach. He was in bare feet.

  Just as sexy as that grin.

  He opened his dinner container, closing his eyes as he drew in the smell. When he opened his eyes, he gazed out over the rippled water. “That sure is a good view.”

  His blue eyes caught the fading sunlight.

  Yes, it sure is.

  Chapter Five

  Brooks

  Meggie didn’t know how not to meddle.

  I should have know
n she was up to something when she barged into my house, shoved a takeout container in my hands and proceeded to put away all of the fixings for a ham sandwich I’d just pulled out of the fridge.

  Meggie had practically chased me out the back door, telling me to take a night off.

  I hadn’t argued because I was beat and I knew from the container it was my favorite curry. I’d planned to go back to the garage and catch up on paperwork in the office, but a delicious meal and an evening by the lake had sounded much more appetizing.

  Toss Londyn McCormack into the mix and I couldn’t help but smile.

  She’d been nervous at the garage earlier. I’d never seen anyone walk that fast in flip-flops. Clearly, she’d stopped in to check on progress. I got it. There were plenty of mechanics in this world who took twice as long as they promised and charged twice as much. Many might see a beautiful woman and think they could take advantage.

  That wasn’t how I operated, but I didn’t blame her for being wary.

  “I took your car to the body shop today,” I said. “I promise I’m hurrying it along. I know you want to get on the road.”

  “Oh, I, uh . . . sorry.” She gave me an exaggerated frown. “That’s not why I came. I don’t mean to hover, really. I was just passing by, realized I was hovering and felt bad for interrupting you.”

  “No interruption at all.” She could interrupt me any hour any day of the week. Her face coming through my door had been the best part of my day. Until now.

  It was a gorgeous night. The breeze had picked up, softening the heat and adding coolness as the air blew across the water.

  “So, Londyn”—I stabbed a piece of chicken—“tell me about yourself.”

  “You go first.”

  “But I asked the question.” I chuckled. “How about this? Whatever question is asked, we both have to answer. You can ask first.”

  “I like that. All right.” She nodded and turned her gaze out to the water.

  I expected something easy. Where was I from. How long had I worked at the garage. Coming up with a personal question didn’t seem all that hard, but as the seconds passed into minutes and she remained quiet, I realized why this was hard.