The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(67)

“As okay as we ever get,” he said.

That, she could live with. “You don’t need to come with, now that we’re square.”

“I know. But I’d like to, if that’s okay with you.”

Since she actually sort of wanted company, his company, she nodded and then had to ignore the way his smile made her get warm from the inside out.

They hit the road, and five minutes later, Garrett pulled into a convenience store. “A pit stop for snacks to take on the hike and climb.”

“You mean walk,” she said. “We’re going on a walk.”

“I’ve never known you to walk a day in your life. You’ve got two speeds, Brooke: full steam ahead and fast asleep.”

She gave a rough laugh. “Yeah, well, as you might’ve noticed—things change.” But not one to ever turn down food, she walked into the store and eyed the hot dogs rolling on the cooker at the checkout. It’d been years since she’d had a hot dog for breakfast. That streak ended today.

Garrett came up next to her, his arms loaded with a large assortment of chips, cookies, and other goodies. Dumping everything on the counter, he looked around for the still unseen clerk.

Brooke gestured to his stash. “You look like an unsupervised nine-year-old who was given a hundred bucks.”

He grinned, and something low in her belly quivered. She eyed the Slim Jims in his pile and her senses were overtaken with memories, flashing her back to a climb they’d once taken up the rocky face of the Playground, where they’d watched the sunrise. It’d taken two hours to get to the top and she’d been starving. He’d pulled a Slim Jim from his pocket. She’d laughed at his idea of breakfast food, but she’d eaten her half, and then, at his insistence, his half as well. Then she’d nibbled his fingers and in turn he’d nibbled her mouth, and then they’d . . . well. She glanced up and met his gaze, which was hot and locked on hers.

She wasn’t the only one remembering what had come next, how they’d pretty much leapt at each other. They’d been lucky no one had discovered them before they’d surfaced.

Garrett cleared his throat and looked around for the clerk. “Anyone home?”

“Right here.” The elderly male voice sounded familiar to Brooke, but she couldn’t quite place it. Not until the man came shuffling out from the back, straining to carry a crate of wine bottles that was clearly too heavy for him.

Garrett’s dad.

“Hello, son,” he said.

Brooke heard a whoosh of breath escape Garrett’s lungs. But he recovered before she did, moving around the counter to take the heavy crate from his dad. “Where?” was all he said.

His dad pointed to a counter and Garrett set the case down. There was a horribly awkward beat of silence, and then his dad moved toward the cash register. “Anything else?” he asked, and looked at Brooke.

“Two hot dogs, please.”

With a smile, he handed them to her and began to ring them up.

“What are you doing?” Garrett asked.

“Working.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

His dad reached for a brown bag and slid their purchases into it, his hands shaking terribly.

Garrett reached out and took over. “I’ve got it,” he said quietly.

“You replaced the spark plugs in my truck,” his dad said. “Why?”

Brooke looked at Garrett in time to see him shrug. “Your truck needed them. It needs a lot of things.”

The two men stared at each other awkwardly and then Garrett went back to tossing things into the bag.

Brooke felt her eyes sting at the look on Garrett’s dad’s face as Garrett did his job for him. Shame. Regret. She wanted to reach into her pocket and pull out all her money and hand it over so he didn’t have to work like this, in a position that was clearly too physically demanding for him.

“Dad.” Garrett pressed his thumbs to his eye sockets like they hurt before dropping his hands to his sides. “I’ve got a bunch of jobs I’m working on, and I’m shorthanded. I could use help.”

“I don’t need a pity job.”

“Did I say anything about pity?”

The two men stared at each other some more. “I’ll think about it,” his dad said.

Garrett nodded and then turned to her. “Brooke.”

She looked up and realized Garrett had their bag of goodies and was holding the door open for her. She smiled at his dad and walked out, aware of Garrett right on her tail. He opened the passenger door for her and waited until she’d climbed in and secured her seat belt before handing her their bag.

She set it at her feet as he walked around the front of the truck. She watched him scan the lot, clearly looking for something, and then fix on another truck parked close by. The windows were down and a smiling black Lab sat in the driver’s seat. Garrett headed over there, and the dog’s tail went crazy with excitement. Garrett gave him a one-armed hug and got a big wet kiss across his face for his efforts.

Brooke couldn’t blame the dog—she had good reason to know that Garrett tasted delicious.

After a moment, he came back to the truck, slid behind the wheel, and pulled out of the lot. She waited, but he didn’t speak as they headed west toward the ocean. She opened the bag and started doctoring up her hot dog with ketchup and mustard. She did the mustard with slow purpose, baiting him, because he hated mustard with the passion of a thousand suns and had always given her shit for using it.