Page 31 of A Photo Finish
I’m sittingon a hay bale facing Pipsqueak when I hear the door slam behind me. I’ve spent all day outside, and it’s not even that nice out. Heavy clouds and the smell of impending rain permeate the thick air, making my skin feel almost damp. I don’t care. It feels like one of the best days in the world to me.
Pipsqueak’s head pops up at the noise, and I turn around to see Cole in a fresh pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. The image of him all sweaty flashes into my mind unbidden and almost instantly makes me blush.Am I ever going to outgrow this reaction?
“Where are you going?” I call out, trying to be conversational. I’m not an idiot. I know he was on the verge of telling me we weren’t keeping a horse at the house. I don’t know what changed his mind, but I thank my lucky stars he did.
His gait looks stiff as he hops down the stairs and at my question, his body goes still, his head rotating toward me as his mouth twists into . . . I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be a smile.
“For a run.”
“Again?” I know running is good for you. To a point. It’s never been my cup of tea, but two runs a day seems excessive.
“Yes. Is that a problem for you?”
Okay. We’re grumpy again. This man needs one of those happy pills I bugged him about. “No . . .” I venture carefully. “I’m just . . . Well, I’m in a great mood. Wanna grab a drink instead?”
His entire body turns toward me now, and his hand gestures between the two of us as he says, “You and me?” Like it’s the most horrifying prospect in the world.
“Am I so bad?” The words spill out on a laugh.
Cole visibly winces, apparently not quite prepared to laugh with me just yet.
“I don’t know . . .” His hands rest on his narrow hips as he looks around himself on a sigh, like he’s searching for an escape route.
“Come on,” I pester him, because this man needs a little pestering. He reminds me of my oldest brother in that regard. Too serious for his own good. “I know you’re old, but we’ll be back before your bedtime. Before dinner even. It’s . . .” I pull out my phone to check the time. “It’s four o’clock. That’s happy hour.”
He just stares at me.
“Which means you have to be happy.” I try to hold back the smile at my own cheesy joke, but I’m failing.
“Violet.”
“Yes?” I bat my eyelashes with exaggerated innocence.
“Calling me oldandgrumpy is your plan to make me happy?”
Okay, jokes really fall flat around here. “Come on! I want a drink and to be around some other humans rather than locked up on the ranch. I’m feeling a bit squirrelly. If you don’t come, I’ll go on my own.”
“Yeah? You going to drive with a big walking cast on your right foot?”
“No.” I smile slyly. “I’m going to walk.”
Cole groans and looks up at the sky like he’s hoping some aliens will come whizzing by and beam him up out of this conversation. If they needed a magnificent male specimen, I could see why they’d choose him. “Give me five minutes.”
“For what?” I quirk my head.
“To change into something appropriate.”
I bark out a laugh. “Cole, have you been to Neighbor’s Pub before?”
“No,” he says with a slight wrinkle in his nose.
“Okay, well, you don’t need to change. It’s very casual.”
He grunts at me and walks back inside, only to return a few seconds later with his keys. Our drive down the country roads is quiet, but not tense like in the past couple of weeks. I almost feel like we’ve settled into a sort of companionable silence. Or at least on my end. Yes, we have an awkward history, but we’re working with it. Plus, I’m only going to be living at the house for a couple more weeks. Once I get the all clear, I’m outta there. We can go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist.
“Turn here.” I point to where the old pub sits, rustic and full of character—just the way I like it.
I’m so excited that I bounce a little in my seat as I look out the window at the dark painted exterior with a big flashing sign over heavy oak doors and a parking lot patio lit by outdoor lights strung up over picnic tables.
