Page 22 of Catch
“She’s my favorite,” Jesse agreed. “And Easton getting those tickets was such a sweet surprise, but?—”
“You know what?” I shot to my feet, pulling my phone from my pocket like it had just buzzed. “I have to go. Gramps, we will fish again soon, I promise. Grams, dinner was amazing. Easton,Jesse, Max, my main little man, try listening to Sinatra. West? Have fun with your hooker tonight.”
My words were coming out faster than I could think, but I couldn’t safely listen and lie to them anymore. Especially when Loxley’s name was brought up. One day, I’d tell them the truth, but right now, I just needed to get the hell home.
Chapter Twelve
LOXLEY
I was alreadyin bed when Miles finally made it home Sunday night. I wasn’t asleep, just lying there, listening to the sound of his boots against the wooden floors. For a brief moment, I considered going out there, asking how his day had been.
But that felt like something a girlfriend would do. And I wasn’t trying to seem clingy. Miles was used to life out there alone, and I knew a part of him missed the solitude. No matter how easy things felt between us, I couldn’t forget that I was an intrusion.
Still…
As he passed my door, his steps slowed, pausing for just a beat longer than necessary. I held my breath. Was he about to knock? Check on me?
Then, just as quickly, he moved on, disappearing down the hall to his own room. I let out a slow exhale, staring at the ceiling.
The next morning, Miles was gone by the time I woke up, but a note was waiting for me next to a freshly brewed pot of coffee.
Got called in early to do some desk work today. Apparently, someone spotted Loxley Adams in Dalton, GA, so there’s no need to patrol today. Lucky me—I have a lot of reports to do instead. -Mr. Officer
I giggled, because I could hear the eye roll in his words. Not sure who they saw, but it definitely wasn’t me.
Still, the idea of someone mistaking another woman for me sparked a crazy idea in my brain. One that could probably cause more trouble than I was worth. But I’d been cooped up in that house for almost a week. I needed to get out, stretch my legs.
And somehow, I’d managed to convince myself that Miles wouldn’t mind if I borrowed his Jeep.
After all, I wanted to surprise him. Show him I wasn’t just some lump taking up space on his couch all day.
Getting dressed in actual clothes felt like freedom.
I had been in pajamas for days, and slipping into a pair of jeans and a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt practically resurrected me. Add the wind whipping through the open windows of Miles’ Jeep, a hat that fit me way better than Sam’s crusty one did, and a pair of cheap Amazon sunglasses that somehow looked crisp, and I was feeling alive.
The music was up, and I was singing along toYou Look Like You Love Meas I cruised down the same winding road Miles had taken when he brought me to his house. I didn’t remember much about the town, but I figured once I reached the end of that road, I’d see the Harmony Hotel, and somewhere nearby, I could find fresh apples.
Because my mama had taught me two things for certain. First, it was that Sammi Smith was the most underrated womanin country music. And secondly, she taught me how to make a damn good apple pie.
I doubted Miles cared much about Sammi Smith, but a buttery pie crust stuffed with three kinds of apples? That seemed right up his alley.
It wouldn’t take long to pop into a store, grab the apples, then head back to the house where I’d spend the rest of the day baking, and maybe strumming the old guitar Miles had let me borrow.
Once I spotted the Harmony Hotel, I pulled into the parking lot and started scanning the area for something else familiar. Like a Trader Joe’s or a Fresh Market.
Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything like that, but there was a big sign a few blocks up that read, Piggly Wiggly. Surely that was somewhere that had apples.
“Good enough,” I muttered, flipping my turn signal on and heading back down the main street before pulling into another parking lot. I adjusted my hat lower over my forehead, grabbed my small wallet, and slid out of the Jeep, keeping my head down and my pace quick.
Thankfully, the produce section was right up front, and within a minute, I had three kinds of apples tucked in every crevice I could find to help me carry them all.
“Excuse me,” a gentle voice said along with a soft tap on my forearm. I jumped before turning to find an older woman smiling up at me. “You’re supposed to put the apples in a plastic bag, dear.”
“Oh.” I smiled, keeping my gaze slightly lowered. “I didn’t see those.”
“That’s because you have your sunglasses on.”
“Oh,” I repeated, feeling increasingly dumb. “I was just in a hurry, I guess.”
