That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(25)

I pat her on the shoulder. “Then I’m going to need to have a talk with your husband, because this is the opposite of exciting.”

I turn to walk away, but she pulls on my shoulder. “Oh, no you don’t. Don’t try to downplay this. You’re going out with a girl.”

I shush Jen and push her farther back in the office. “Can you keep your voice down? Jesus, Jen. I’m not going out with her. We are going to Walmart. I’m getting socks, she’s getting house essentials, and that’s it. There is nothing else involved.”

“Are you going to hold hands on the way up there?” She twiddles her fingers together.

With a giant eye roll, I say, “I’m leaving.”

“Wait. Just tell me this: Do you think she’s pretty?”

Do I think Ren is pretty? I’d be blind to think otherwise. She’s gorgeous, actually—and quirky, and a little long winded at times, and she has a thirst for life I’ve never seen in another human being.

She’s more than pretty.

But I don’t answer that way.

“I mean . . . yeah, she’s pretty.” I shrug.

Casual, perfect.

And it’s enough for Jen; she begins clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

I narrow my eyes at her, giving her my best “I’m going to kill you” look, but it has no effect.

“Cupid hit my little brother with a giant moose. Oh, this is so wonderful.”

“I swear to God, Jen, you need to stop right now. There is nothing going on between me and Ren, and there won’t be anything either. I’m not interested in dating anyone. It’s time you realize that.”



“Thank you so much again for letting me hitch a ride. This is really helpful.”

“Not a problem.” I keep both hands on the steering wheel, knuckles white, shoulders tense.

Ren decided to show up to the shop in a little white sundress and strappy-looking sandals that give her two extra inches in height. Her hair is half-up/half-down in some messy knot on the top of her head, and she’s wearing a sweet perfume that is doing all kinds of things to me—things I don’t necessarily want.

At first glance, I had to force myself to look away from her ample cleavage, prominently on display but in a classy way, the kind of way that has men begging for more.

I might be on a strict no-dating policy, but hell if I can’t at least take a look.

She’s stunning. Tan with long hair that hits just past her shoulders and wide green eyes framed by some of the longest lashes I’ve ever seen.

Reid was right—if she’d been my algebra teacher, I would have paid a hell of a lot more attention in class.

“It’s so pretty out there. Have you ever been to California?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’ve never been to the West Coast, actually. I don’t have a lot of vacation time, and when I do, I go camping or down to Vermont.”

“Oh, I bet camping is gorgeous here. In California it’s more like camping in the desert unless you go up to the mountains. The trees here are amazing, too—so different from what I’m used to. The pine trees stretch so high it feels like you’re always under a canopy.”

“Yeah, the woods are dense here, so you’re constantly battling pine cones and needles, but it adds to the experience. Do you camp often?”

“Often? No.” She chuckles. “But when I get the opportunity, I totally take it. I might wear dresses, but I also like putting on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and roughing it in the woods. I have no problem peeing on leaves.”

That makes me laugh. “No problem with leaf peeing? Good to know. There’s a little camping group in Port Snow. I know you said you were interested in joining stuff. That might be something you like. It’s people of all ages; we get together and rent out a few camping sites, share stories, and have a good time.”

“Really? That seems like so much fun. Think they would let me in?”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Since I’m in charge of it, I’d say you could get in.”

“You’re in charge? How on earth do you have the time?”

I shrug. That was the point when I started forming all these clubs. Anything to keep me busy. Anything to keep me out of the house, where I’d be alone, remembering, obsessing over the what-ifs.

And now all the activities and work have become part of my everyday life.

“I find the time,” I answer, shifting in my seat. “So what brought you out to Port Snow? The job?”

“Yeah, I really wanted to slow down my life, create a community around me, rather than going through the motions. I wasn’t really ever a part of something in LA, and it made my days mundane. I got in a car accident last year, and it made me really think about what I wanted in life. Slower, small-town living was right up my alley.”

“Car accident? So the moose run-in wasn’t your only one?”

She grows quiet for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I was in a really bad one a year ago. I was rear-ended from behind on the freeway, and it turned into a seven-car pileup. I barely survived.”

I glance in her direction for a second, taking in the stitches on her forehead and the light bruising around the cut. It’s been a few days, and I have yet to hear her complain about the pain or the fact that she almost totaled her car for what sounds like the second time in her life. She must be a really strong woman.