June, Reimagined (32)
“Well, so can I.”
“Really? Eat any peanuts lately?”
June stepped toward him and pointed. “That’s not fair. I was jet lagged.” She could smell the scent of Lennox’s soap on his skin. He had already showered and dressed, whereas June was still in her pajamas. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Fine. Be that way.” She went to her bag and started rooting around for clothes. She had no idea what she was going to do, seeing as she didn’t have to work, but better to feign like she had somewhere to be. If June didn’t want to be treated like charity, she needed to start acting as if she was worth something.
“There’s coffee and tea in the kitchen.” Lennox turned to leave.
“Wait.” June took a CD out of her bag and held it out. When Lennox hesitated, June pushed further. “It’s just a mix CD. It’s not going to kill you. I made it as an apology for the other night. I was a drunken . . . idiot.”
“That was weeks ago, Peanut.”
When he didn’t take the CD, June grew embarrassed. It was a stupid idea. He’d probably hate her taste and mock her for it. Worse, June had spent hours on Hamish’s computer after closing the café, curating the list and rearranging songs for the best flow. Worst, deep down she had done all of it to impress Lennox, to prove she was capable of doing something nice for someone else, too. “You’ll probably hate the songs anyway.”
Lennox took the CD. “Get dressed. Wear something warm. You’re coming with me.”
“Where are we going?”
Before he disappeared to give June her privacy, Lennox said, “Do you think we can make it a full day without killing each other?”
June welled with satisfaction. “What fun would that be?”
They managed to visit three houses without arguing. The snow did not slow all day, piling up by the hour, but Lennox brought firewood to the Nicholsons and checked the old radiators at the Fergusons’, and he and June had just finished shoveling the long driveway at the Brody farm when they got back into Lennox’s car.
June shook snow from her hat and gloves. Heat blasted from the vents, and she reached her hands forward to warm them. Lennox put the car in reverse. The tires spun, and the vehicle slid sideways slightly. He braked and then put the car in drive, the wheels finally catching on the snow.
Lennox appeared to relax. He drove slowly, the windshield wipers slapping back and forth. June let out an exaggerated breath.
“What?” Lennox asked.
“Nothing.”
“For the love of God, out with it.”
June turned to face him. “It’s just . . . we’re not having any fun.”
“You sound like my six-year-old niece.”
June perked up. “Snowstorms are supposed to be fun. You know, snowball fights, sledding, hot chocolate.”
June recalled the one time Stratford College got five inches of snow, an unheard-of event for that part of Tennessee. Students skipped class and went sledding with dining-hall trays. A gigantic snowball fight broke out on the college green. Anyone attempting to walk the gauntlet to class was penalized with a bombardment. The storm had transformed the students into innocent eight-year-olds again.
“You want me to find you some hot chocolate, is that it?”
“No,” June whined. Lennox just didn’t get it. He was always too serious, too strict. She sat back and looked out the window.
“Then what do you want, Peanut?”
June wanted to feel young like that again. The magic of snow days wasn’t just the weather. The magic came from the unexpected freedom, the break from monotony, the chance to be a little irresponsible because responsibility had called in sick. The snow day gave June permission to bury what happened with Matt—all her lies, all her guilt—under inches of snow, to pretend it didn’t exist until tomorrow’s melt. She rolled down her window.
“What the hell are you doing?” Lennox asked.
“Calm down, old man. Just drive.” June leaned out the window, cold wind and snow lashing at her face.
“Bloody hell, Peanut. Sit your arse back down in the car!”
“Don’t you ever just want to be a little reckless?” she yelled. She closed her eyes and let the snow dampen her eyelashes and face. “Drive faster, old man!”
“No.” Lennox gripped the steering wheel.
“Fine. Then I’ll be forced to take off my clothes.” June moved to unzip her coat.
“Damn it, Peanut.” Lennox pressed on the gas. “Is this fast enough for you?”
June unzipped her jacket further, teasing him. He growled and sped up more. The cold on her face and the wind in her ears were welcome distractions. She tipped her head skyward, arching her back, letting the wind blow over her. Her ears were too fogged with noise to hear the voice in her head that constantly nagged at her, the shame that dripped like a leaky faucet in the back of her mind. It all went quiet. June lifted her arms toward the sky.
Lennox watched in awe, a need in his eyes, a hunger unsatiated. That look clung to June, hooked into her and demanded her attention, her closeness, her desire. She sat back in her seat, snow melting on her eyelashes and cheeks, drawn to Lennox from the center of her chest, against her better judgment and all the effort she had put into resisting this man.