Page 69 of All Wrong
Corinne parked down the block from the Katarskys’, then grabbed the chilled bowl of fruit salad she’d brought along and made her way to the gathering. She spoke with a few of the neighbors she recognized. She wasn’t close to any of them, so the conversation was light and topical. After staying long enough to be polite, she hugged the older couple, thanked them for being such good landlords, and wished them luck with their new home.
Getting into the car, Corinne cranked up the air-conditioning and rested her head on the steering wheel. She didn’t feel like going back to the rental. She definitely didn’t feel like driving up to Maggie’s farm and running the gauntlet.
A rap on the passenger window startled her. She sat up abruptly and saw Brett peering in at her. She lowered the window.
“I thought that was you,” he said with a grin. “Are you stalking me or something?”
She waved her hand in the direction of the Katarskys’ shindig. “Sorry to disappoint. My landlords had a good-bye party.”
“Ah. So, that’s what all the ruckus was about.”
“Yep. What about you?”
“Just out for a run. I’m renting a place about a mile down the road.”
Her gaze dropped from his smiling face to his shirtless, muscular, tanned torso. “In this heat?”
“Doesn’t bother me. I grew up in Texas.” He paused to pull out the T-shirt he had tucked into his shorts and wipe the sweat from his face. “Are you on your way to or from?”
“From. I’ve made the obligatory appearance.”
“Gotcha. What now? Got plans?”
“Not really,” she replied. “It’s a nice day. I thought I might go for a drive.”
“Hmm. Want company?”
Did she? “Sure. Why not?”
“Great! Let me get a quick shower and change.”
Brett declined the ride she offered back to his place, saying he didn’t want to ruin her seats. Instead, he moved over to the driver’s side and jogged beside her. She was impressed that he was able to maintain a conversation while doing so.
Corinne was aware of the appreciative looks Brett was getting, though he didn’t seem to notice. Not for the first time, she wished she felt a spark of something more than garden-variety appreciation. It sure would make her life easier.
“This is me,” Brett said, turning into the driveway of a modest ranch.
She followed, coming to a stop in front of the one-car garage.
“Come on in,” he coaxed, opening the door. “Give me five minutes. Make yourself at home.”
While Brett went left down a hallway, Corinne had a look around. It was an older place, built in the ’60s or ’70s, based on the layout. Neat. Clean. Furnishings on the sparse side.
The kitchen was tidy. A bowl of fresh fruit sat on the counter, next to a butcher block cutting board and a set of quality knives. Clean dishes air-dried in the rack beside the sink; a dishcloth was draped over the faucet. There wasn’t much in the way of small appliances, though she did spot a high-end juicer and an air fryer.
Hearing the water running, she peeked into a few cupboards. Nary a bag of chips or a cookie in sight. She checked the fridge. Not a single tub of ice cream.
When it came to healthy habits, he practiced what he preached.
“Looking for something in particular?” he asked from behind her.
She jumped and pushed the freezer drawerclosed. “Sorry,” she said, embarrassed. “I was looking for evidence.”
His smile didn’t fade, but his warm brown eyes cooled a little. “Evidence?”
“Junk food,” she clarified. “Most people say they eat healthy, but you actually do, don’t you?”
The warmth returned to his eyes. He walked over to her at the refrigerator, opened the door, and pulled out the crisper drawer. Putting his finger to his lips, he extracted a box of Tastykakes and showed it to her, grinning sheepishly. “My dirty little secret.”
