Page 7 of Lovingly Restored

Her eyes flit down my arms, my torso. The dome lights cast shadows, accentuating purplish circles beneath her eyes and her slightly blue lips.

“That was a joke...”

A fucking dumb one, Lauri.

“Feel free to use mine to check in with someone.”

If she calls a husband or boyfriend, even her dad, I’m asking to speak with him. What kind of shitty guy lets his girl drive around in a death trap like that?

We start the drive, comfortable in the silence, soaking up the heat pouring out of the vents. Her mood seems to warm with her body, but she mostly studies the rain pouring down the passenger window. She scans me more than once, but anytime I glance her way, she averts her gaze. When she yawns and my own jaw stretches in response, I cover my mouth to stifle it.

“Stop that.”

“Can’t help it. Long day.”

“Same.” I let out a long sigh. “You usually drive around so late at night for work?”

She turns to me. “Who said anything about work? Breaking down on the side of the road is more of a recreational pursuit. If I keep an eye on the weather, I can time it during heavy rainstorms for maximum enjoyment.”

I laugh heartily when I realize she’s screwing with me. For a few seconds, my mind empties itself of worry. We’re approaching town, and even though this day is at the top of my shit list, I find myself wishing the drive was longer. Now that she’s opening up and has dropped the tough girl act, she’s not bad company.

“Seriously, though, what do you do?”

She fidgets with her hair. “I’m…a horticulturist.”

“That’s the science of plants and flowers and stuff, right?”

“Mm hmm,” she nods.

“Wow, that sounds really interesting.

“Thanks. It is.” Her voice is quiet, a small smile playing across her mouth.

“Are you going to tell me where I’m taking you?”

“I’ll put the address in your phone.”

She picks it up and holds it out to me, I press my thumb over the sensor reflexively.

She enters the address, and the truck’s navigation system gives us directions that I don’t need. I’m born and raised in West Isle and it’s not that big.

Ashlyn’s presence is enough of a distraction to keep my mind off the anger that’s simmering below the surface. It won’t be so easy to ignore once I’m alone in my condo. The rain is a light trickle, and, over the steady hum of the heating, I can hear her occasional sighs. I’m not even sure she realizes she’s doing it. Asking her what’s wrong seems pointless. We’re minutes from her house. And I’m not in the headspace to listen to anyone’s problems. We’re just two people who probably never thought our days would end like this. I got her home safe, and she got me out of my head.

Her address is a well-maintained, low-rise apartment with a “no vacancy” sign on the lawn. A few windows are still lit, lobby armchairs and a row of metal mailboxes visible through the front doors. She unbuckles her seatbelt before I come to a complete stop, another sign of this woman’s utter disregard for vehicular safety. When she opens the door, the overhead light switches on, reminding me of nightclub lights coming on at closing time. I hope I don’t look quite that rough. She sure doesn’t. Her hair dried into the colour of milk chocolate and her warm brown eyes are rimmed with natural lashes and smudged mascara. Now that she’s recovered, I can see that her skin has olive undertones, and her outfit still shows her curves.

She rotates toward the centre console to retrieve her jacket, but I have the same idea, and my hand lands on top of hers. She’s no longer icy. Her hand is smooth, small, and warm beneath mine. Without thinking, I brush my thumb over that soft skin. Her face flushes with colour, and she starts to smile, but then bites her lip like she’s holding back. She’s so flustered, it’s as though I touched her somewhere far more intimate. The thought makes me shift in my seat as blood rushes to my groin. She wiggles her hand free, pressing it to her rosy cheek like she’s checking her temperature. I open my mouth to say something, but the door clicks open while the words are still forming in my head. There isn’t a hope in hell of me getting a properly formed sentence past my lips in the next two seconds. She steps down onto the runner, hops out onto the sidewalk, and then throws her weight against the heavy door. I wince at the strength with which she slams it.

“Okay,” I say, sucking in a deep breath.

When I plug my phone into the charger, I notice the “create contact” page is open. Ashlyn’s name and number glow at me.

“Huh.” I pull on the back of my neck and look up in time to see her make her way safely into the lobby.

I’m losing my touch. The blushing makes sense. I drape my forearms over the steering wheel, watching her until she’s out of view. After everything that happened today, flirting was the last thing on my mind. She obviously wants me to call her, but for what? To say thank you? To go out? Unfortunately, for me, I’m not really in a place for a relationship. I’d love to lose myself in a delicious distraction, but I’m busy digging myself out of a mess.

Chapter two

Ashlyn

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