Page 29 of Sugar Coated Lies
He pulls out of the parking lot and motions to the touchpad screen on the dashboard. “Type your address into the GPS, please.”
I do, and then I text Carol that I’m running late and apologize. She’s understanding. I knew she would be, but it doesn’t mean I should put her in this situation. She already works for peanuts.
“I don’t live in the nicest area,” I mention, to warn him.
“I’m familiar with Honeycomb,” he replies without concern and adds, “I went to college at UG.”
The University of Georgia. Sounds right. “I bet you were a frat boy.” A very sexy one.
He chuckles. “I was. What about you? Where do you attend college?”
We pull onto the main road, woods on either side.
“Right now, I’m at a community college. Two years ago, I was at SSU on a scholarship. But when my grandma got sick, I had to drop out to take care of my grandpa.”
He nods, his jaw muscles flexing, like he’s not happy.
Crap. I wish I’d never said anything at all about my history. It’s a lot to hear. “I’m sorry,” I say again.
He raises his hand from the gearshift. “Everleigh, please. Don’t be sorry for anything. You are clearly an incredibly resilient woman who’s been through more than anyone should have to endure for your age.”
“I promise nothing will affect my ability to work and arrive on time.”
“I’m not concerned.”
I focus on my hands where they rest on my purse. “I get nervous, and when I get nervous, I say too much.”
“I promise you will have a job with me for as long as you need one. This hasn’t changed anything. I take that back. It’s proved to me I made the right decision to hire you. I trusted my gut, and it was correct. If anything, you sharing your past has solidified my decision. I have no doubt you will fit in nicely here and could have a future long-term, should you choose.”
Wow. Tears of gratitude fill my eyes. “Thank you. I would love to work for the farm forever.”
He sends me a surprised grin. “You would?”
“Yes!” I gush. “It’s amazing. You must be so proud that it belongs to your family.”
His brows pinch together again. He takes a minute. “I am proud.”
Something in his tone is off.
I drop the topic.
We ride in silence for the rest of the way. From my peripheral vision, I notice him open and close his mouth a couple of times, like he wants to ask me something but doesn’t.
I clutch my purse as we pull into Honeycomb. It might be the smallest of all towns. Mom and pop stores make up the downtown with several shops on the strip vacant. Businesses struggle to stay open. Grandma had dreamed of owning a flower shop here.
He turns at the four-way cross and heads past my favorite park. I love it for the shaded benches and large lake.
“It’s not far from here.” I grin as heat creeps up my neck. I’m not usually one for getting easily embarrassed, but having Daire—my sexy, wealthy new boss—see my home on my first day of work is unnerving.
The GPS tells him to turn onto the dirt road entrance to the trailer park. I sneak peeks at him from the corner of my eyes. If he’s creeped out, he doesn’t show it. His demeanor remains as casual as ever.
“Right here is fine.” I point to the side of the road, near the patchy grass in the tiny front yard.
He parks. Some kids play baseball a few homes up the road. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson sit on plastic chairs in the driveway to their manufactured home like they always do in the evening. They wave. I wave back.
“Thank you.” I gather the box and sling my purse over my shoulder.
He opens his mouth again and closes it, his mint-green eyes questioning.
