Page 50 of The Lies We Told Ourselves

I felt his chuckle of laughter against my hair as he squeezed me tighter for a second before leaning back so he could look into my eyes.

“What is family dinner, anyway? And why do we need to do it? They can feed themselves. They’ve been doing it for years. I don’t see why there’s a sudden need for me to do it.”

“Well, considering that I did all the cooking, I don’t think you need to worry in that department,” I teased gently.

Frankly, I was grateful he didn’t point out the fact that I’d chased him out of his own kitchen this morning and refused his numerous offers of help.

The sound of the gravel driveway crunching under a car’s tires helped, as well as Booker’s head turning to see who was coming.

“Well, at least it’s solved one problem,” he said cryptically, and when I looked around him and saw it was my car driving closer, I gasped in surprise.

“What? Is that…?” And then I slipped out of Booker’s arms and ran for the door.

“Hey, I was enjoying that,” he grumbled, and I shook my head at the impossible man.

I was already jogging down the porch steps when my car pulled up in front of the house, and a guy I’d never met stepped out. He looked like a giant stepping out of a clown car as he unfolded himself from the driver’s seat of my old Honda. Not that he seemed to care, as he smiled at me happily. His red hair caught the sun as he pulled off a baseball cap and ran his fingers through the unruly lengths before he tugged it back on again.

“You must be Reece,” he said, closing the door and walking closer with his hand held out.

We shook hands, and then he jingled the keys in front of me.

“She’s all ready for you. Not quite as good as new, but damn close.”

I quickly grabbed the keys, practically jumping for joy.

“Thank you so much!” I called out as I darted to the car, opening the door and nearly crying from the new car smell that should have been impossible for this former piece of crap car.

I hadn’t realized I was as attached to this old thing until I’d seen it driving down the driveway. I’d kind of always taken it for granted as it sat in the parking garage, barely being used. Itdidn’t fit the image I was supposed to be showing to the world, not that I really had anywhere to drive back then.

I sighed at how naïve I’d been, feeling a wave of disbelief that I’d allowed myself to be maneuvered into that situation in the first place.

This car had taken me away from that place. It was the piece of freedom that wasn’t stolen from me, and it had saved me from something I doubted I’d ever be really ready to think about.

“Well, you could feed me whatever it is that smells so delicious and then pretend to listen while I explain to you what an oil change is and why you need to do them,” he quipped.

“Awww, you were doing so well.”

My hands came to my hips, and I glared at him playfully.

“Personally, I think you’re giving him more credit than he deserves,” Booker called out from the porch, where I hadn’t noticed him.

“I don’t know. He fixed my car, which was on fire at one point.” The guy pointed toward me, frantically nodding his head like I was making an excellent point. “And you should smell it! I’m pretty sure this car has smelled vaguely like cheese ever since I bought it.”

At that point, his eyes widened in alarm. “Please tell me you didn’t buy a car that smelled like cheese.”

“Well, I needed something cheap, and I got him to knock a hundred bucks off it because of…”

I could tell by the way he was staring at me like I was insane that there was nothing I could say that was going to make me look any better. The truth was, I had no idea about cars or what to look for when I bought one. As long as it ran and I could afford it, I didn’t really care.

Honestly, it was just a car, but I didn’t think that would win me any points with this guy either.

“She made lasagna, Dex,” Booker called out again. I could already see where this was going. “From scratch,” he added.

Dex took a moment to think about it, but I could see the smile he was trying to hide. “How about you still let me eat some of that lasagna, and I won’t tell you why the car smelled like cheese?”

My eyes widened in alarm, and my mind screamed that I really didn’t want to know that under any circumstances.

“Deal!” I declared. “I’ll even throw in some garlic bread and not make a fuss when you don’t eat your salad.”

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