Page 27 of So Bad It Must Be Good

Chapter Seven

As the storm raged on around the little garage, and the power continued to not come back on, Kayla could only sneak little glimpses at Liam as he double-checked to make sure all of his machinery was unplugged.

There’d been a little moment at the window there, almost like . . . She had to be fooling herself thinking for even a second Liam had been looking at her in a considering kind of way. They’d had plenty of interaction in their lives and he’d never looked consideringly at her.

Of course, the Liam Patrick she’d thought she’d known was not this Liam Patrick. Very near artistic, no matter how masculine his materials were. Romantic, even if it was because lovespoons sold.

It wasn’t as if she’d ever thought him hideous. The Patricks were a handsome lot. She’d just always been dazzled by Aiden because he paid attention to her.

Now Liam was paying attention to her and she was dazzled by him, and maybe the problem was not the Patrick men, but Kayla herself. What did it say about her if she was easily swayed into liking one or the other simply because they gave her a few minutes of their time?

She frowned. This whole figuring herself out thing was neither fun nor comfortable, but it was necessary. So maybe she should stop thinking about either Patrick brother as a possible romantic entanglement.

“We got them all,” Liam announced, standing from the crouch he’d been in to check the last outlet.

She turned her phone to him, her light illuminating his face. He held up a hand to shield his eyes.

“Hey, careful where you point that thing. I feel like I’m in an interrogation room.” He grinned. “No, officer, I swear I had nothing to do with the blackout.”

Her stomach swooped, something a little giddy working through her, much against her will. She could order her brain to be sensible and careful, after all, but her body seemed to react of its own volition to Liam. Especially grinning, joking Liam.

She’d had no idea something like that existed, but it was easy to see he relaxed here in his workshop. Maybe he’d even relaxed around her because they’d spent some time together. Or because he’s seen you puke. Well, that too. Maybe, when it all was said and done, Liam was just shy and all those years she’d thought he’d looked at her with disdain he’d just been uncomfortable.

“Well, I think painting may have to wait until another day. Last time the power went out it took them something like ten hours to get it back.”

“Oh, okay.”

“It does look like the rain stopped,” he offered, peering out the window. “I, um, if you want to come inside, I have a book you might like to borrow.”

“A book?”

“It’s about lovespoons,” he said, his gaze still on the window. “The origin and the symbols and all that. If you’re interested, that is.”

“Oh, that sounds great,” she said, trying to stop herself from grinning stupidly. She found the concept of lovespoons fascinating, almost as fascinating as she found the man Liam was turning out to be.

He flicked a glance to her, and in the faint glow of their phones she couldn’t read the expression on his face, but something in her stomach swooped again.

“Okay, let’s go before it starts up again.” He walked over to the garage door and pushed it up and over. The wind howled and the sky had an eerie tint to it, dark clouds making it seem almost midnight instead of seven or eight o’clock.

Liam pulled the garage door down and locked his padlock. “Don’t think the storm is done yet, do—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the sound of rain pounded toward them and then it was upon them. A hard, relentless downpour soaking through her clothes and hair in a matter of seconds.

“Inside,” Liam yelled above the din, taking her hand and leading her at a jog toward his house.

She followed, a laughter bubbling up from somewhere. Liam’s hand was big and warm and rough, and her flimsy shoes splashed through the mud and puddles of his yard.

He hurried up the porch steps, but for a second Kayla stood in the rain, soaking in the cold downpour, listening to the roaring sounds of droplets on concrete. It smelled like spring, and spring was all about renewal. Rebirth.

Wasn’t that what she was after? A new birth, a new Kayla? Or maybe not so much new as a bright colorful blossom from a brown, dull stalk that had been hiding in the underbrush, but no more.

No more.

“Are you coming?” Liam asked. He’d flipped on his porch light and he was bathed in a faint yellow glow in the middle of this dark world.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed in the sky. The wind started blowing the rain harder into her face, and she thought she might remember this moment and this feeling for a very long time.

Still, she walked over to the porch and stepped up under the overhang of his house. Water dripped from every part of her body—hair, nose, fingertips. “You better not let me into your house. I’ll drip everywhere.”

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