“I haven’t seen her in ten years.”
“You could have called.”
I did. And she never answered. “I’m going to go get her now.”
“Already?” Mom jumps back into action. “Did anyone clean the upstairs guest room’s bathroom?”
“She’s not going to go in there,” Dad says, patting Mom’s shoulder. “And it was cleaned before the kids arrived.”
“Fine, fine.” Mom lets out a breath and turns to me. “Drive slowly, please.”
“I’ll take the long way,” I tell her, and I actually will. I told Chloe five, and it only takes about twenty minutes to get to Chloe’s dad’s house since I have to drive around the lake. “Both times.” I get my keys, wallet, and phone from the junk drawer where Mom stashed them and go outside. It’s still hot as fuck out, and another storm is on the horizon, making the air even more sticky than it was before.
I stop for gas on the way and get to Chloe’s house just a few minutes before five. She comes outside when I pull into the driveway. I put my BMW in park and get out, meeting her halfway on the sidewalk.
“Hey, Sam,” she says with a smile.
“Chloe,” I breathe, fighting to find my voice. She looks absolutely beautiful in the blue dress she’s wearing. It hugs her curves and shows off just enough of her breasts to be a constant distraction tonight, I’m sure. Her hair hangs around her face in loose curls, and her eyes look greener than before. “You look beautiful.”
Her smile widens. “Thank you, kind sir.”
My heart flutters in my chest, and I want so fucking badly to grab her, pinning her body between mine and the car, and kiss her breathless.
“Did you get a lot of writing done?”
“Enough to make me feel productive,” she replies. “I saw that it’s supposed to rain all day tomorrow. I’ll hole up on the screened-in porch and plan to knock out a ton of words.”
“Do you make an outline?” I open the car door for her and go around.
“Not really,” she tells me as she pulls the seatbelt over her body. “My editor likes to review it, so I give her a super rough one. It’s a waste of time for me to make anything more than a rough outline. I change things too much.”
“That’s interesting. You probably get asked this all the time and you’re wanting me to shut up, right?” I back out of the driveway.
“I don’t mind,” she assures me.
“Good, because you’re going to be bombarded with questions as soon as you walk through the door.”
“I can talk about writing and horses all day. Be warned: I can get pretty talkative.”
I steal a glance at her. “I think I can handle it.”
She looks out the window, watching the scenery pass by. “Have you run into anyone else since you’ve been back in town?” she asks after a few minutes tick by.
“No, but I haven’t really left my parents’ house much.”
“Same. The few times I have left, I’ve run into you. Funny, isn’t it? We go years without talking and it’s like I can’t avoid you.” She turns, and I can feel her eyes on me. Slowing at a stop sign, I take my eyes off the road for a second to look at her. “I think you are stalking me.”
“I was going to say the same about you. I was at the bar and Silver Café first. You showing up after I was already there means you’re the stalker.”
“Hah, that’s the same thing I said to Lauren today.”
“Lauren?” I question.
“The girl from the bar…we saw her at Sunset Tavern.”
“Oh, the chick Mason went home with. Maybe? He was with her friend when I left, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he brought them both back with him.”
“You left without Mason?” she asks, eyes going wide.
“Yeah, I’m not his keeper.”
“And you went back to your parents’ house?”
I shake my head. “Jacob’s. I had to check on the dog.”
Chloe smiles and lets out a breath. “That’s really sweet. And if I was stalking you…would you mind?”
“If you stalked me? I suppose it would depend on the reasoning.”
“So I could kidnap you, lock you in a dark basement, starving you so your skin gets all baggy and I can cut it up to make a quilt.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“I’d sell your organs on the black market too.”
“Make sure you get top dollar. I like to think I’m rather expensive.”
“You are, though I might have to knock a few thousand off due to your old age.”
“Please,” I retort. “I’m only two years older than you.”
“I know, I know…I’m getting old too. At least I don’t look like it.”
“And I do?” I laugh.
Chloe reaches over and messes with my hair. It sends a shock through me and I grip the steering wheel tightly. “Nah. You don’t have any grays yet. Though it’s so unfair guys are ‘sexy’ and ‘distinguished’ with salt-and-pepper hair and women are shamed.”