Chirp(37)

She glanced over at Rance and followed his gaze to the entrance, where a woman emerged. The jet-black hair that puffed around her head like a storm cloud was bad enough, but the swimsuit and cowboy boots were too much.

Yep, nothing could kill lust like Walmart customers.





17


Blaze


Where were the tube tops and hairy men when Blaze needed them? After the shopping trip in Danvers, Rance had driven through Fred’s Fried Chicken and taken her to a different park from where they’d seen Cam.

This time Rance coaxed her out of the truck to sit at a nearby table. Across the lawn, young couples sat on quilts, mothers swung their children, and dads tossed Frisbees with their kids. She wondered what category she and Rance fit into. Friends? Acquaintances? Roommates? Everything she did with him was new, so she didn’t know how to define their relationship. She considered this outing as a picnic, but figured to him it was a place to eat.

She’d put too much emphasis on his kindness. Just because he’d been nice didn’t mean he had any romantic feelings toward her. But when she’d helped with his tie, there’d been something in his eyes. Longing. Could it be? Finding out was worth the risk.

“Chirp?”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“I texted my brothers, and they’re coming to the festival. But no need for you to leave. You won’t have to cook for us. We’ll either eat in town or I’ll throw something on the grill.”

“Okay.”

He threaded her fingers in his. “Tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say nothing, because I can see the wheels spinning in that head of yours.”

She pulled her hand free, swallowed the lump in her throat, then pointed to a sunny section of the park. “Those people over there are practicing heliolatry because of the lack of trees.”

“Preoccupied with your word of the day?”

“Yes. It means sun worship.” Not exactly a lie, but she couldn’t tell him what was really on her mind—him.





Rance


Rance tossed and turned, loving the softness of the new sheets against his skin. Chirp had been right about the selection and insisted on washing and drying them before use. She was a stickler for following manufacturer’s instructions. Hell, she was a stickler for a lot of things. After years of having to follow rules, that should bother him, but it didn’t.

She was the most genuine person he’d ever met. Well, her life was full of secrets, but he figured out of necessity for survival. That had to be it. But if he could get her to confide in him, he could help. She’d seen how intimidating he could be, and if she was running from someone, he’d take care of them.

He’d prepared Seth and Nick about meeting his strange housemate. The last thing he wanted was for her to freak out, so he’d warned them about keeping the pantry in alphabetical order. Not to ask her to make a sandwich unless they could wait an hour while she got everything lined up and leveled. And if they planned on getting laid, they needed to rent a hotel room or she’d don her homemade hazmat getup. They’d gotten a big laugh out of the picture he’d sent.

He’d also cautioned them about her lack of understanding sarcasm and absence of filters. Her obsession with making lists, using her word of the day, and keeping the counter cleared of clutter. Dirty clothes needed to go in the hamper. Shoes in the closet. Wet towels in the laundry room. By the time he’d finished explaining all of her quirks, they each had the same question. Why did Rance let her stay?

He’d asked himself that plenty of times. Truth was, she intrigued him. And after seeing her in that dress, he’d been thinking about her in ways he shouldn’t.

He flopped onto his back and stared into the darkness. A line of moonlight escaped from between the blinds and marked the ceiling like a carpenter’s level. It’d been a week since the banquet, and he was still losing sleep over her. He needed a cigarette. Whiskey. Sex. Damn.





Blaze


Blaze ended the call with Uncle Bill, put her phone aside, and went into the bathroom. No avoiding her godfather. He’d left fifteen messages, so she had to take the time to explain her remark. That Rance was just a friend who happened to be a boy, and she’d simply used the wrong reference. Someone she trusted, who knew nothing about her “real” life. Once she’d reassured her uncle, he calmed down. Good thing. Didn’t want him to hire his own investigator.

She rinsed toothpaste from her mouth, gazed into the mirror for a moment, then turned in for the night. Across the hall Rance thrashed around on his new bedding. It couldn’t be uncomfortable, because she’d insisted on leaving Walmart and going to the nicest store in Danvers to buy 1,800-thread-count Egyptian cotton. He’d winced at the price, but she’d promised he wouldn’t regret it.

She should ask if he did. Or better yet, slide in with him and decide for herself. Stupid. She already knew how great they were. She’d been sleeping on them all of her life. But she couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to be next to him on the silky, luxurious fabric. Naked. Skin to skin. His strong arms around her. His lips on hers. She tried to imagine being kissed until breathless. Having him on top of her. Inside her.

Her senses kicked into overdrive. She really shouldn’t have these thoughts. It wasn’t healthy. But he hadn’t had a woman in a long time and probably needed one. She scooted to the edge of the bed and put her feet flat on the floor. Then desire and logic engaged in a serious tug-of-war.