It’s something she always did and I find it fucking adorable.
I don’t want her to be adorable.
I don’t want her body to call to me like it did when I had her caged against the side of the shed.
I want her to be bitchy, mean, pushy, and the big-city princess I imagined she’d become so I can send her away without thinking twice.
Much to my dismay, she isn’t following the plan.
“Did you see those two women fighting over toilet paper? And I’m not talking soccer moms here. These women had canes! I was waiting for bloodshed.”
“Yeah, I saw it. They’re also best friends except for when it comes to toilet paper, apparently.”
Eden laughs, and it hits right in the center of my chest. “Look at that. The island grump made a joke.”
“Ha ha.”
“Anyway,” she continues, looking out the front windshield, “when did you move here?”
“Three years ago.”
Right after I blew up my career and hardened my soul.
“Charley mentioned you coach over at the high school. How long have you been doing that?”
“Just the last two seasons. They’ve got some talent there. I try to help where I can.”
“Do you like it here?”
“Yeah, it’s peaceful,”—I give her the side-eye—“most of the time.”
A smile quirks her lips.
She looks out the side window and silence reigns in the cab. I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.
“Have you made friends here?” she asks, but doesn’t look at me.
“Sure. Nate’s a good friend, and Ian Sterling, Lucas Raines, and some of the other players on the Bull Sharks. They all live around here. Or on the mainland.”
“Hmmm…”
I glance over at her, and judging by the look on her face, there’s more she wants to know.
“That’s four.”
Her head comes around, a quizzical look on her face. “What?”
“That’s four questions. You got sixteen more if we’re playing twenty questions.”
“You’re just full of jokes today.” She clears her throat and looks away again. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I don’t answer, just pull in through the gates of my house, rolling slowly down the driveway.
“Are you going to answer me?”