Page 3 of A Lonely Road
“I have a jump starter box you can use. There’s an auto supply store around the corner, they’ll install a new battery for free if you buy it from them. Though I’m sure Hank won’t mind if you want to replace it yourself. There’s also a woman-owned garage called Saucy Wrench on the other side of town, if you’re more comfortable there.”
The garage’s name threatened to break through my commitment to giving him my darkest glare, but Jake continued to smile. It took a great deal of effort for me to finally grind out, “Sure, the jump start would be lovely.”
With a smirk that clearly stated he wasn’t put off in the least by my tone, Jake disappeared into his garage to get the box. I dragged my hands over my face, wishing for a complete do-over to this entire day.
What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like I’d never had an attractive neighbor before. Hell, my last apartment building had thrown two beauties my way—Audrey from 6F and Jamal in 4B. Maybe that situation was different, since all three of us were clear about not expecting anything other than a good time, but I’d never felt as nervous or off-balance as I did in meeting Jake Lincoln.
He returned and passed it to me without comment, which I appreciated immensely. At my muttered thanks, his lips tiltedupward and that damned dimple peeked out from one cheek, then he gave a quick salute and returned to working on his truck.
I spun on my heel and forced myself to assume a natural gait as I walked toward the car, resisting the urge to hurry away like a scared little mouse.
The jumper box worked perfectly. I considered banging my head against the steering wheel but refrained, just in case Jake was still watching, and made my way to the store he mentioned, conveniently located barely a half mile from the apartment. I’d have to scope out the other place, Saucy Wrench, some other time. Baby probably needed more than just a battery—and sooner, instead of later.
“Another magical first impression made,” I muttered aloud, disgusted with myself for getting so flustered in front of Jake.
I’d spent years developing a polite but distinctly unfriendly persona for interacting with strangers. Within minutes, this new neighbor started edging his stupid, handsome face past my defenses. It had to be something about the warmth in his eyes, the easiness of his smile.
It had been a long time since I’dwantedto let someone in and now that the thought had taken root, I found the urge intensely irritating.
With a determined scowl, I forced Cute Neighbor from my mind.
Hank, an older man with a thick head of white hair and a bright smile that rivaled even Jake’s, sent someone to install mynew battery the minute the words were out of my mouth. By the time I’d paid and shoved the receipt into my purse, Baby was ready to roll. I thanked both employees profusely before heading back toward the grocery store down the street.
By that point, I had my game face on. I offered murmured greetings to fellow shoppers, made small talk with the cashier, played the part of the new girl in town like I was a trained actress. It was utterly ridiculous to have to encourage some friendly interactions in order to not draw even more unwanted attention, but blending in was the key.
I would do whatever was necessary to achieve that, Cute Neighbor or no. My quest to find a place to call home was my priority, and this town checked a lot of boxes.
On my way back to the apartment, I took a detour along Main Street to scope out the rest of the area. It was a typical small town, populated by a mixture of family-owned businesses and a few chain stores. In the stretch of a mile or two, I passed three cozy coffee shops, two pizza joints, and a trendy local restaurant-slash-bar that had two golden statues of mermaids on either side of the front door. I snickered at the creatures but made note of the location.
While others flocked to cafes with their laptops in hand, I liked to work in a place where the sounds blurred into white noise and I could lose myself in a crowd, usually some kind of pub or a restaurant with a bar that didn’t mind me lingering at a table in the corner. The only other option nearby was a dive barI’d passed on the way into town. Its lack of windows and dingy exterior had been an immediate turnoff.
I liked noise, not being surrounded by sketchy potential assailants.
The flutter that rose inside me as I turned onto my new street unsettled me, but Cute Neighbor appeared to have gone inside by the time I pulled into the driveway.
I told myself it was relief I was feeling, and I almost believed it. Hefting all of the grocery bags into my hands, I shouldered the trunk closed and returned to the blissful solitude of my new home.
Chapter Two
Nora
Justafterseventhatevening, I eyed the sign overhead, my gaze caught on the swirling script that proclaimed this placeThe MermaidGastropub & Grill. I reached out to stroke a fingertip along the curved fin of one of the golden statues on my way through the door.
I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, smiled at the young hostess who led me to a small booth along one wall, and took the opportunity to glance around the restaurant’s interior.
This was definitely a step up from my usual choice of venue.
There were a dozen or so tables already occupied and another handful of people seated at the gleaming oak bar that stretched across the back of the restaurant. I studied the tasteful decorations and slightly eccentric art adorning the walls. Aframed article about announcing plans for a new local art gallery hung on the wall at my side, next to a sea glass mosaic depicting a lighthouse on the lake.
This place was as far from a dive bar as it could get, but bustling enough that it might do quite nicely for my purposes.
My gaze drifted to the bar, which looked like a slab from some ancient tree that had been polished to a warm glow. With a sharp intake of breath, I recognized the man behind it as none other than my new—and terribly attractive—neighbor.
In brazen contrast to his torn jeans and stained t-shirt of earlier that day, Jake was in a crisp white button-down, rolled neatly to his elbows. He was joking with one of the customers seated at the bar, currently unaware of my presence.
That man sure cleans up nice,I thought, then kicked myself for the observation. It didn’t matter what he looked like, it was better to avoid him.
After a server with a thin, braided beard and purple hair took my order, I pulled out my notebook, forcing myself not to look back toward the bar. The atmosphere in the restaurant wasn’t quite the din I usually sought out, but the low hum of conversation around me would do almost as well. I'd written out several pages of translation notes before the server returned with my meal. Once he left, I scribbled down more thoughts as I ate.
