Page 20 of She’s Got that Spark

CROW

Something is definitely wrong with Emma. With us. We texted back and forth a bit on Saturday night, and she said she was tired. Which makes sense after working all week and going above and beyond for my shop at the street fair the day before.

It could be I’m paranoid or reading too much into it. But she just seemsoff.

I did everything in my power to make sure that our first night together was fantastic. It certainly seemed that she enjoyed every moment of it at the time. Maybe it was just too soon? Is she having second thoughts in hindsight?

She mentioned something in our endless conversations last week about her sisters, and the topic seemed to get her all prickly. Maybe there’s family stress there that she isn’t ready to talk about.

Yet I can’t help thinking that I need to do something. Fix anything that needs fixing.

By Sunday afternoon, I am going out of my mind.

I clean my house to try to burn off the excess energy, then finally break down just after two o’clock and send her a text.

Hey there, Sparky. What are you up to today? If you like, I could grill some burgers, if you want to join me for dinner. Or we could eat at Betty’s again. Or go somewhere else.

I pace around the living room for the four and a half minutes it takes her to respond. I’ve never been this way about a woman before. A phone watcher. This girl has me tied up in knots.

Emma: My aunt needs something picked up, so I’m going for a nice, long drive.

I want to ask her if she’d like company. Want to ask where she’s going, and if there’s anything I can do to help. If she’s picking up something heavy, I should lift it for her. Make sure that she’s not going to Pinesley, or anywhere else dangerous.

But all that feels like a bad idea. She knows that she can ask me for anything, and I certainly owe her favors after Friday. If she wants a little space, I’m going to have to steer clear. Even if it kills me.

You’ve got a beautiful day for it. Hope that you roll down the windows and sing your head off on the way. Talk to you tonight, gorgeous.

A few hours later, my oven is clean, my freezer is organized, my garage has been swept, and my motorcycle has been tuned up.

For some reason, I can’t bring myself to draw, because that will make me think of Emma. I can’t wait to see what kind of tattoo art she’s going to doodle when I get a chance to ask her properly. I’d love to have a more feminine hand creating some fresh art for the shop.

If she’s into the idea, that is. I hope that she will be, but I really don’t know her well enough yet to be sure.

I’m also not sure how to tell Emma how much she means to me without letting her know how serious I am already. Dammit, I need something to distract me.

As I’m walking toward the spot where my phone sits in the charger, it rings. But it’s not Emma. It’s the ringtone for the VFFT.

I read the text, and when I see the address for the call, my hand clenches around the phone so tightly I come close to smashing it. A half second later I’m racing out the door, barely jamming on my helmet before my bike tears down the road…

...to Emma’s house.

15

EMMA

One of the things I do enjoy about staying with Aunt Tish – besides the lovely room with a view of the garden, and the incredibly cheap rent – is occasionally running errands for her because it means I can drive her luxurious car. She hates driving herself, yet often needs things from nearby towns.

Luckily, West Stoneburg is a big enough city that almost every store is open on Sundays. After picking up her dry cleaning and running into the dressmaker where she had several pieces hemmed, I grab a few items from the grocery store that our local one doesn’t stock.

Instead of driving back on the highway, I take the scenic route. I don’t even know the name of the road, but I’ve gone down it a few times. The beautiful, meandering country lane twists past a few small lakes, some long, low rambling hills, and several lovely old farmhouses.

On past drives, I’ve noticed the strange truck just outside of Cedarville with the VFFT logo on the side. Since I didn’t have any idea what it meant, it didn’t really register. This time as Iapproach the spot where it’s usually parked close to the road, I see that it’s not there.

Instantly my blood runs cold. Sure, it might just be in the shop for maintenance or whatever. Or there could’ve been a fire call. Right near Cedarville.

Which means Crow was probably one of the firefighters called in.

My foot hits the gas, heart hammering as I race into town. I only slow down to let a couple of big trucks zoom by quickly. They’re all going in the same direction. I don’t see Crow’s truck, or his bike. Is that a good sign or not?

---