Page 56 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

“And the shop?” Brody asked. “Do you like it?”

“I must be insane. I bought a flower shop without ever setting foot insid

e.”

“We can rip up the paperwork.”

I shook my head. “It’s perfect. I want to put my own mark on it. Change the style a bit. But I want it.”

“Then it’s yours.” He opened the car door for me, something he’d done earlier today when we’d left the house.

“You wouldn’t open the door for me before the wedding, when I was in death heels, but now that I’m in tennis shoes, you do.”

“Forgive me.” He feigned a dramatic bow as I took my seat. “I hadn’t appreciated the precious cargo.”

My cheeks flushed as he shut the door and walked to the driver’s seat, getting behind the wheel. He’d been teasing too, but the comment still tasted sweet.

“You didn’t need to drive me. I could have come down myself.”

“In what car?” Brody asked, driving us through downtown Welcome.

“The Cadillac.” It was currently parked in Clara’s garage, collecting dust.

As much as she loved the idea of the handoffs, she’d stalled planning her trip to California. I hadn’t asked her why. I didn’t need to.

Returning to California would bring back a barrage of emotions, and she was psyching herself up for it.

“Tomorrow you’ll be on your own,” Brody said. “Today, I wanted to come along and make the introductions.”

“Thank you.” It had been nice to have him at my side, to not do this alone. And though we were still adjusting to sharing a roof, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else at my side, not even Clara. Brody’s confidence was contagious, and it had given me that extra boost to dive in. “I think this is a record, Carmichael. We’ve managed to get along for nearly two days.”

“Give it time. I’m sure you’ll do something soon to piss me off.”

I fought a smile. “Count on it.”

Brody rolled down the road, taking every block deliberately, like he was giving me time to inspect each and every storefront.

The coffee shop three doors down from Welcome Floral had green metal tables on the sidewalk and a chalk sandwich board that boasted the daily latte special. An attorney’s office had silver letters stenciled on a large plate-glass window. Brian’s Pub had an orange neon sign that glowed even in broad daylight.

The black streetlamps stood tall, hoisting their clear glass globes. The brick storefronts alternated in shades of classic burnt red and limestone cream. They reminded me of the desert rocks along Route 66, faded and worn but unique.

“It’s real here,” I said. “Every street.”

“Refreshing, isn’t it?”

“In Heron Beach, the local neighborhoods were real. You could count on your neighbor for more than just a cup of sugar. But everyone catered to the tourists. You wore a smile at all times. You put on your best show. I never minded because I genuinely enjoyed what I was doing. It’s easy to smile when you like your job. But I always made sure to wash my hands before going inside the hotel and clean dirt from my cuticles. I’d tuck in my T-shirt and wipe clean my shoes. I won’t have to do that here.”

“No. What matters here is who you are.”

“Then why do you dress in a suit every day?” I shifted in my seat for a better view of his face. I’d always wanted to know why he dressed so impeccably, especially after seeing him in jeans on Saturday. The image of those long legs in denim was as fresh as the mental picture of him at the gym this morning.

They’d been nice jeans, more expensive than any pair I’d owned in my lifetime, but they’d fit Brody so perfectly. Loose, but not baggy. Fitted, but not tight. They’d showcased his strong thighs and narrow waist.

Unbuttoned, the man was irresistible. If he had leaned in the other night at the pool, I probably would have kissed him.

“I have a meeting with my grandmother,” he said.

“Oh, is she here? Because if she is, I’m going to hide at Clara’s.”