Page 43 of A Much Younger Man
“I won’t.” I sipped at my drink, less anxious to slam it back. Confession was good, indeed. “He’s been avoiding me.”
“Poor kid. Think he had a little crush?”
“I doubt it. As you say, there are a hundred better candidates within throwing distance.”
“Yeah. And we become invisible at thirty if we’re not billionaires.”
Perhaps Jim hadn’t meant to, but he’d made my point for me. “It’s probably best if I leave things alone.”
“Sure. I mean, you have to do what makes sense to you. Just think things over carefully.” Jim and I talked while I finished dinner. By the time I left the cantina, the sky had opened up and rain was lashing down. Typical. Nothing happened halfway when it came to rain in California.
Before I got into the car, I did a gut check on whether it was safe for me to drive. I’d eaten a full meal, sipped my second drink slowly, and spent enough time chatting with Jim afterwards that I felt comfortable behind the wheel. Possibly I’d gotten an assist from the cold. My arms had goosebumps when I started the engine, and I was shivering before I’d gone far enough to warm up the heater sufficiently.
Traffic was light. The usual beachgoing jaywalkers were all safely tucked inside. I drove up Main Street, passed the clinic, and planned on making a left turn at the light. That’s when I saw a couple of rain-drenched bodies huddling under the awning of the local florist shop.
One of them was dark brown, shaggy, and four-footed. I’d recognize her biped companion anywhere.
Huh.Best laid plans and all that crap.
I made a quick U-turn and pulled to the curb in front of them. Rolling down the window, I asked, “Need a lift to the clinic?”
With both hands, Beck swiped water from his face and hair. “We’ve just been there.”
“I can take you back to Cooper’s if you’d like. Get in.”
He glanced up and down the street. “Thanks anyway. It’s okay. This rain won’t last.”
As if in answer, lightning cracked the sky and thunder boomed almost immediately after.
“Come on, Beck. It’s coming down frogs.”
He glanced up and down the street again. Whatever he said next was lost to the wind.
“What?” I shouted over theshush, shush,of my wipers and the constant drumming of rain. “I didn’t hear what you said.”
He rolled his eyes. “I forgot my keys and got locked out. I was headingbacktoward the clinic.”
Exasperated, I shouted, “I’ll take you wherever you like, just get in for God’s sake. My seat’s getting soaked.”
He must have made up his mind because he dashed forward, opening the back door first for Callie and then slipping in next to me with a squelch. He slammed the door against the rain. I rolled up the window, thankfully silencing most of the outside noise.
“You want to go to the clinic?”
“I guess.” He didn’t look at me. Christ, had I hurt him that badly?
“I can take you to the clinic, or you’re welcome to come to my place. I know from experience my house is warmer.”
“Th-thank you.” His lips were alarmingly pale. “The clinic’s fine.”
“The hell it is.” Frowning, I made an executive decision and spun the wheel in preparation for another U-turn. “You need a hot shower, a hot meal, and a roaring fire, none of which can be found at the clinic.”
“You’re k-k-kidnapping me?”
“Yes.” I handed him my phone. “Phone the authorities. You don’t need to unlock it to dial 911.”
He turned away, but I thought that was to hide his relief.
When we got to my place, I pulled into the driveway. “Only a few feet to shelter. Make a run for the porch. I’ll catch up.”
