Tracking the Bear (Blue Ridge Bears Book 1)(4)

I ate about half of what was on the plate. I didn’t feel comfortable devouring a seven-ounce steak and an enormous baked potato in one sitting, especially when I hadn’t been the one to order it.

“Feel better?” he asked, still grinning at me.

“Some,” I admitted. The throbbing ache in my leg had died town to the occasional twinge, and I’d be able to ignore that once I took my pain pill. I fished it out of my purse and dry swallowed it.

“I’m happy to help, Miss Lucy,” he said. I resisted the urge to shiver. I could listen to that basso rumble for hours. I tore my gaze away from his and checked my phone. I’d missed two calls, and my break was almost over.

“Now that I’ve eaten your meal, I really do need to get back to work,” I said, flushing again. That had sounded wittier in my head.

He laughed at me and waved me on. “I’ll be seeing you around, Miss Lucy.”

I hope not. I thought silently. I feared it would only be a matter of time before I said yes to someone, and it was why I needed to get out of Fairchild as soon as possible. If Chance Kassower decided to stay, it would be all the more difficult to leave.

And I wasn’t staying in Fairchild. Not for a man. Not for anyone.

***

Of course, leaving that evening wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped. Millie was waiting to ambush me by my car.

“You’re bringing this in today, right?” she demanded.

“Yes,” I sighed, exasperation creeping into my tone. Mr. Lonesome had stared at me all night while I worked, and hadn’t left the bar until Kim, the bartender, threw him out at last call. I’d sent the rest of the girls home and spent a further thirty minutes cleaning up the place. So I stumbled out of Pete’s at three thirty in the morning feeling tired, sore, and more than a little irritated with my best friend.

“You’re leaking engine oil. If you try to drive this thing for very much longer, it will kill your engine.”

My eyes began to well with unwelcome tears. No. An engine repair was more than I could afford. I might as well buy a new car and wipe out my measly savings.

“Oh honey, don’t cry,” Millie exclaimed. She threw her skinny arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug. A sob escaped me. She patted my back gently, mumbling assurances.

“We can work something out, Luce. I can try to get you a good deal. You can borrow Nelly in the meantime.”

“I can’t do that,” I sniffled. “Nelly’s your baby.” She’d been working on restoring the 1954 Chevy Bel Air for years. She’d already taken a few days off to take it out for the test drive with her father.

She finally let me go, and her face was a mask of concern. “Lucy, you shouldn’t get bent out of shape like this. You’re going to make it, you know that right? I know you’re going to get that degree. What’s a few more years?”

A few more years would put me at twenty-six or twenty seven. That was edging too close to thirty for my comfort. I didn’t want to attend college as a non-traditional student. How many more years would it take if I settled down, had a mortgage to pay, and a few kids to juggle? I needed out of this place in the worst way, if I was ever going to have a life.

“I need to get home. Can you give me a ride?” I asked, nodding to her motorcycle. She gave me a grin, and for the first time since my impromptu dinner, I felt my spirit lift. She pulled her coat on and handed me her extra helmet.

She mounted the bike with an assurance born of years of habit. I followed suit with much less grace, slipping the helmet on as she started the engine.

“Hold on tight.”

I wrapped both arms around her waist tightly as she gunned the engine, sending us flying halfway across the mostly empty lot. Gravel spat from beneath the tires as we sped down the long drive that led up to Pete’s. We went rocketing onto the asphalt and sped down the main road that led through town. The houses looked like dark smudges of charcoal as we passed in a roar of sound and speed.

The journey was too short. We reached Elm Street in no time at all, and then Millie was parking the bike behind Aunt Carol’s minivan. Millie and I walked to the door, and I was surprised to see the porch light still on. Aunt Carol must have been waiting up for me.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Millie said confidently. “We’ll get your car fixed in no time, alright?”

I nodded once, my throat constricting again with unshed tears. No matter what she said, this wasn’t going to go well. She gave me another brief hug before walking back to her bike. I waved a halfhearted farewell.

I could hear voices inside. Was Uncle Mack up, too? What was going on? They were habitual early risers. They turned in at nine or ten most nights, and woke when the sun rose in the morning.

The scent of coffee and eggs hit me when I opened the door. Things just kept getting weirder and weirder.

“Lucy, is that you?” Aunt Carol’s gentle voice drifted from the kitchen.

“Yes, it’s me. What’s going on?” I said, putting the helmet Millie had loaned me on the table. Drat, I’d completely forgotten that I was still holding it. I’d have to return it to Millie when I saw her later today.

“Sit down.” Uncle Mack was pacing in front of the stove. His normally red face had taken on a tinge of purple. His beady brown eyes were narrowed. I could imagine an artery inside of him waiting to burst. He only got this way when there’d been a scandal in the church, one of our extended family members was coming to visit, or an election didn’t go the way he’d wanted. And since it wasn’t an election year, I assumed it had to be one of the former.