Page 45 of Forgotten Romance

Could I be content having this for the rest of my life? No relationship, no sex, just Davey and his cute freckles and sexy curls and the way he holds my eyes when he smiles.

I’m still stuffing the Luke question down in my brain, wanting to ignore it as long as possible. He came by again for lunch, and again, I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. The thing is, when I chat with Luke, he’s so nice. A genuinely happy person. And while I’m sure he has some kind of crush on me, I’m not convinced he’s looking for more than a friend by the talks we’ve had.

If that’s all he’s after and I bring up more, that could go downhill fast. And I like the idea of having him as a friend.

The LEGO rattles in the container as I walk out to the car. Art picked Davey up, and Kiera is at school. Van’s with his grandparents at kindy gym. So now is the perfect chance for me to sneak away and get this organized.

I have to hope that Davey doesn’t notice the LEGO missing before I can rebuild it and get it back to him. Given that he hasn’t had a chance to get out there all week, I should be in the clear.

Instead of heading for Killer Brew, where we all meet up regularly, I drive out to Ford’s Garage. It’s a huge space, and I’m sure he can find a teeny corner to allocate to me and my plans. Plus, there’s no chance Davey would stumble across it here.

Ford’s in the huge garage when I show up, coveralls stained with oil, and when he catches sight of my car, he grabs a rag to wipe off his hands and crosses the gravel front lot to meet me.

“This is new,” he says. “Come to take me to lunch, pumpkin?”

I climb out and round the car to the passenger door. “I’ll take you to lunch if you help me out with something.”

“What’s that?”

I pull out the container and rattle it his way.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. That stuff is the devil.”

“I know,” I say desperately. “That’s why I need help!”

Ford backs up, dirty hands raised in front of him. “I’ll buy my own lunch.”

Taylor comes our way, eyeing my box in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“I’m asking the handiest man I know to help me with a project.”

“Griff is the handiest man you know,” Ford says. “I’m an idiot. Very dumb. My fingers are way too big for those itty bitty pieces.”

“Ignore him,” Taylor says. “This looks fun. What is it?”

“Some Star Wars ship thingie.”

Taylor grabs the box and lifts it to see through the clear plastic. “As long as it’s not the Millennium Falcon or anything, I don’t see why we can’t help.”

Uh-oh. That sounds familiar. “Uh … out of curiosity, if it was, that would be … bad?”

“Yeah.” They lift their eyebrows. “It’s big and tricky and will probably take weeks if we’re not working on it constantly.”

“Right …”

Their curious stare settles into a blank look. “It’s the Millennium Falcon, isn’t it?”

I pull the folded-over instructions from my back pocket. “Little bit.”

They take the chunky booklet from me, resigned. “I’ll find somewhere safe we can work on it.”

“Wait, what?” Ford yells after Taylor’s retreating back. “But I said no!”

They wave him off and keep walking, and it’s a real struggle not to smile over the fact I won.

“Stop it,” Ford grumbles.

“Have I mentioned before that I really love Taylor?”

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