Page 27 of Bad Luck Club

“Are you okay?” Lee asked. “Are you in shock?” He looked around wildly, like he might find a heat-reflective blanket hanging off a bush.

Which only made her laugh harder.

He hurried over and placed a hand on her arm gently, like he worried she’d been injured in the minor fender bender.

“I’m okay,” she said, the laughter calming. “It’s just…if you were looking for a sign that you should join the Bad Luck Club, I think you found it, don’t you? I mean, what are the odds?”

“Of someone from Asheville being late?” he said, smiling slightly. “Pretty good, I’ve found.” He scuffed the ground with his shoe. “I shouldn’t have been so impatient, but…”

Something told her the “but” was that he’d been nervous or uncomfortable, but he nodded toward the front of her car and his bumper. “Should we check out the damage?”

“Want me to turn the headlights back on?” she asked, but he shook his head.

“I keep a flashlight in the back seat. I’ll go get it.” They seemed to notice at the same time that he still had his hand on her arm. It seared her suddenly, his firm grip, in a way she couldn’t interpret as pleasant or unpleasant, and she pulled back a little. Lee flashed her a look she couldn’t read and then headed back to his car. A second later he was back, beaming light on her front fender.

Miraculously, there didn’t seem to be a mark on it. Or if there was, it wasn’t anything she felt compelled to fix.

Truthfully, she liked the idea of marking her car up a little. Perfect wasn’t something she wanted in her life anymore.

“I’m good without reporting it. It was barely a bump.”

The light swiveled to his bumper, revealing a sizable dent.

He cursed under his breath, and she smiled at him again. “See what I mean about signs?”

“You sound like Dottie. I don’t believe in signs,” he grumbled.

“Maybe not, Lee Buchanan, but it would seem they believe in you. Do you want to call your insurance company?”

He looked at it a little longer, studying the dent from different angles, then shook his head. “It’s not that bad. Let’s go inside.”

She found herself wondering if he really thought that, or if he maybe didn’t have the money to fix it right now, but she knew he wouldn’t thank her for asking. So she led the way to the tiny gray bungalow and unlocked the bright blue door.

Flicking on the lights, she gestured for Lee to go inside.

He startled a little as he did so.

“God, whatisthat thing?”

There were so many things he could be referring to—the octopus hanging from the ceiling, the oversized whale she’d made that she used as a throw pillow on the couch, or maybe the large, abstract painting she’d bought from the last Art Display, hanging on the wall. But she noticed his gaze had zeroed in on Buford’s large pen.

“Heis Buford. My rabbit. I’m surprised Adalia didn’t mention him to you.”

“Did you give him steroids or something? I’ve never seen a rabbit that big.”

“He’s a Flemish Giant rabbit,” she said, walking over to let him out of the pen. He nuzzled her hand and hopped over to the couch, but when he saw Lee, Buford about-faced and scampered out of the room. No wonder, Lee was so tall, and he was looking down at him like a hunter would his prey.

A traitorous part of her wondered if he’d look at a woman like that as he led her into the bedroom, but that wasn’t what she wanted—a man who wanted control and took it—and she was supposed to be dating Dan…Dan whose absence this weekend really hadn’t fazed her much, making her further doubt her interest in him.

“Someone found him and brought him to Maisie, but Dottie’s the one who suggested I adopt him.” She shrugged. “I didn’t think I was looking for a pet, but Dottie has a way about her.”

He snorted, such an unexpected sound it made her smile. “You’re telling me.”

“I’m sorry I was late,” she said. “It was…unavoidable. Is there anything I can get you? A drink, maybe? Addy brought me a six-pack of River’s new beer, the spring one that’s not on the taps yet. She keeps trying to make me a beer drinker.”

A strange look crossed his face as he contemplated that, like maybe he wasn’t sure he wanted to drink around her. She thought again of that first night. “Don’t worry,” she said, lifting a foot to show him. “I came prepared. I’m wearing eminently practical shoes tonight. Wouldn’t mind a bit if you threw up on them.”

A wry smile twisted his mouth, but it dropped away almost immediately. “I really would like to reimburse you for the ones I ruined.”

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