“It’s going to rain today,” I say, eyeing the dark clouds in the distance. “You can always tell by the smell in the air. I love that smell.”
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asks.
“No, I’m not,” I admit. “But I’ve been wanting to move here ever since I was a little girl.”
Rowan steps down from his porch to join me. “Where you from?” he asks.
He’s careful about his movements. It’s as if he doesn’t want to startle me, or something. Am I that snappy?
Has this divorce made me a little crazy around men? Well, probably. But who could blame me? If he knew of my situation, he’d understand.
“Pennsylvania,” I say. “Mount Lebanon.”
“Never heard of it, but it sounds nice. Does it snow out there?” he asks.
I nod. “Almost all winter. I’m glad to be away from that mess. No more covered driveways and no more falling on my butt all of the time.”
He laughs and clicks the bottom of his lower lip with his tongue. “It must be nice falling on that thing,” he says.
I cock my head. “What?”
He eyes my body. “I just mean, there’s a lot of cushion to break your fall. It’s nice,” he says.
I blu
sh and back away, feeling slightly confused. Slightly hot with desire. Did he really just compliment my ass? Is he really going for it?
What a jerk.
“Sure.” I laugh out of courtesy. “You going to offer me one of those or what?” I finally ask, holding out my hand.
I never smoke, but tonight I’m living it up.
He reaches into his pack and hands me a cigarette. “Finally,” he says. “We’re friends now.”
“We’re not friends,” I tell him.
“Best friends?” he teases.
“We’re neighbors having a polite conversation.”
He changes the subject. “Why don’t you run anymore? It’s good for you, you know.”
I take another sip of my drink, and I hand him my glass. He takes a sip and gives it back. “I’ve decided that I’m too lazy to run. Plus, I think I read somewhere that running every day is bad for your heart.”
“Bullshit. You just want to avoid me,” he says. “Admit it. You hate my guts.”
“I don’t hate anyone’s guts,” I say. “To be honest, I never even gave you a second thought until now.”
Until now? What am I thinking?
“If you keep lying, your nose is going to grow into a tree,” he says, kicking at a loose piece of wood on the ground.
His right hand is placed halfway into his pocket. On his left hand there’s a ring.
I gesture toward it. “You’re married?”
“Oh, this?” He laughs awkwardly and hides his hand by turning away from me. “Nah, I’m not married. It’s just something I’ve kept, from years ago.”