Page 86 of Second Time Around

He resumed washing the car, but she saw a vein pulsing in his neck. She must have finally gotten to him, yet surprisingly, she didn’t feel great about it.

“I thought I did get closer to you last night, but then you snuck out like you couldn’t stand the thought of staying with me.”

She flinched at the jab, though he’d delivered it calmly and sounded more disappointed than angry.

“I couldn’t fall asleep,” she said. The excuse sounded lame even to her.

“That’s not why you left.” He dropped the sponge back into the bucket and picked up the hose again.

For a second, she wondered if he’d turn it on her, and she took a step back. “So, why did I leave, Mr. Know-it-all?”

He rinsed the soap off the car before turning back to face her. “Because you’re scared.”

“Of you? Ha!”

“Not of me, of us. Of what happened last night.”

She shook her head vehemently. “What happened last night—”

“Was perfect. At least, that’s what you said before you snuck out.”

“I left you a note!”

He laughed, but it wasn’t the happy kind of laughter. “Some note. It was so impersonal that anyone could have written it.”

“Poor baby. Are you in the habit of receiving love notes in the morning?”

He sighed and turned away to pick up the sponge again.

“Why are you doing this?” she said.

“I like to wash my own car. That’s the only way it gets really clean.”

“Not that! Why are you making such a big deal over what happened last night?”

He turned around so fast some soap flung off the sponge and onto her T-shirt, landing right between her breasts. His gaze went there too, and then he locked eyes with her.

“Because it was a big deal, and you know it. That’s why you’re scared.”

Suddenly she reached down and picked up the hose that he’d left on. “Maybe you should be scared,” she said, waving the hose around.

“You wouldn’t,” he said, although he didn’t sound as confident as before.

“Try me.”

He took a step forward, and she backed up. What had she been thinking? He’d been a star athlete in high school, and now he was a runner. He could easily whip the hose out of her hand and turn it on her. Then he grinned as if he were thinking the same thing.

“Give me the hose, Jen.”

“No.”

“You’re going to regret it.”

“I already do,” she muttered.

He laughed, and this time, it sounded real. “Put the hose down, and nobody gets wet.”

She smirked. “Now who’s scared?”