Page 14 of Just Like Starting Over
I open the passenger door and dump the box of produce onto the bench seat of my truck, unable to believe how brutal Merrie MacRae was about our tomatoes. They’re good tomatoes! I slam the door shut.
On the other hand, I suspect her reaction might not have been about the tomatoes. She knows Sylvia, and maybe understood that Sylvia is angry with me, so is doing a sisterly solidarity thing. I march around to the driver’s side, not feeling better despite the explanation.
The girl is sitting on the hood of my truck, swinging her feet.
Luke’s daughter.
Sierra.
It’s like I conjured her up, because I didn’t see her approach at all. I stop to eye her.
“Cheers,” she says, giving me a fingertip wave. She has a confident audacity that is Luke all over. Insouciance would be a good word.
I am not in the mood.
Close up, she looks even more like him. She’s also cocky and smug, a combination that makes me simmer.
I wasbetrayed.
And the worst part is that there’s a little glow in my heart that Sylvia is back in town even though she’s never going to talk to me again. It’s irrational and unreasonable and completely fecking stupid, but there it is.
I definitely needsleep.
It’s not this girl’s fault that she exists, but I still don’t want to know her. Luke’s paternity is unmistakable. The purple streaks in her hair. The multiple piercings in her ears. No doubt she’s already started on her tattoo collection.
Herattitude.
“You’d better get off the truck,” I say, practically growling. I am as amiable as a grizzly bear roused from hibernation. I know it and I don’t care.
“You won’t drive off while I’m here.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“I could get hurt.”
“Your choice.”
She eyes me, her gaze assessing, and I know that she’s every bit as perceptive as Sylvia. Look at that eyeliner. It must be a quarter of an inch wide, black as kohl, with a little flick at the outer corner of the eye. And black lipstick. I think she might have made her face paler, too. She looks like a vampire, roused from its natural habitat and forced into the sunlight.
One with those Cavendish blue eyes.
“No.” Sierra is sure of her conclusion. “You’re the responsible type and doing that might result in injury to my person. You wouldn’t do it, no matter how mad you are.”
Her confidence in my intentions is more than annoying – mostly because she’s right.
“Trust me. You could change my mind.” I pull out my keys and reach for the door to give her a bit of foreshadowing.
She raises a finger. “Or you could participate in my special survey, then I would voluntarily get off your truck. You could drive away with complete confidence of my well-being.”
“What survey?” I hear the suspicion in my own voice.
“It’s simple. Just two questions. But you have to tell the truth.”
“I always tell the truth.”
“Then it’ll be easy.”
I decide I’ll bite.
