The Match (It Happened in Charleston 1)

“Thanks for the offer, Sam, but I’m actually pretty tired, and I think I heard Charlie’s stomach growl earlier. I should get home and feed him.”

“You sure? You’re welcome to join us.” I’m all politeness now that I know I’m in no danger of her accepting.

She makes a guttural noise that says she knows what I’m doing. I glance up at her in time to see her lips mouth liar liar, pants on fire. She smirks and turns her face to look out the side window. I like that she never lets me get away with my rudeness.

Five minutes later, we are pulling up outside of a classic Charleston-style, tall and skinny house in the center of town. It’s not bad. A little old and outdated, but it looks like a pretty nice place, all in all. I wonder what it looks like inside. Does she have feminine throw pillows sprinkled around the living room? Is she tidy or messy? Somehow, I instinctively know that she’s messy. Evie just seems like the sort of woman to kick off her shoes haphazardly as she walks into her apartment and drop her purse somewhere random that she’ll forget by the morning. I definitely have her pegged as an “unfasten her bra, pull it out her sleeve, and toss it over the back of a couch before she’s even made it fully into the house” kind of woman.

I really want to walk her to her door and find out if I’m right.

Seeing me inspect her house, she says, “This isn’t my house. I rent out their detached studio apartment around back.”

Oh. Now I’m even more curious.

She gathers her purse and slings it over her shoulder. I notice that her hair gets caught under the strap, and I’m reaching up to pull it free when I notice Evie’s eyes widen.

Bad hand!

I drop it and quickly turn to open my door. I’m getting out now. Why am I getting out? What am I supposed to do once Evie comes around to this side of the truck? Do we hug? Definitely not. Do we shake hands? That would be strange. Suddenly, I’m thirteen, I’ve just discovered that girls exist, and I have no idea how to act around them.

I hear Sam call out a goodbye from the backseat and watch Evie wave toward Sam when she and Charlie round the truck. If I’m not mistaken, she gives one appreciative glance to my truck before meeting my eyes. What would I do if she gave me that same look? I’m losing it.

“Well,”—she adjusts her hair out from under her purse strap—“thanks for the ride. Should I Venmo you some money for gas?” Wow. She really thinks I’m an A-hole.

I shake my head and stuff my hands in my pockets. “Not necessary. Glad to help out.”

She’s fidgeting, awkward, and won’t make eye contact with me. Oh, right. She thinks I don’t like her. Is she waiting for me to apologize for the look in the car? I should…but I don’t because I’m afraid it would undo all the work I’ve done to keep her at bay.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you two tomorrow, then.” Her tone is clipped, and I’m 99.9% sure she wishes I was dead.

“Right. Yeah. Sounds good.”

I wish she would smile at me. I just want one for the road. She looks over my shoulder toward Sam’s window, and then her face lights up with a smile that melts my insides. She looks back to me, and her smile drops. No smiles for you, big jerk. And then she and Charlie disappear around the house.

When I’m back in the truck and buckling up, Sam says, “She saw you make that face, you know.”

I sigh. “I know.”

“Why didn’t you want her to come to dinner?”

At least a hundred answers fly through my mind, but I can’t tell my ten-year-old daughter any of them. “Because…I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable having to eat with us.”

“I think she would have liked to come.”

I flip my turn signal and move into traffic, pretending not to be overly curious about Sam’s statement. “Oh yeah? Why do you think that?”

“Because she peeks at you as much as you peek at her.”

Never mind the fact that statement makes me sound like a massive creeper…

I look at Sam in the rearview mirror and see her satisfied smirk. “We’re just friends, kiddo. There’s nothing else between Evie and me.”

“Well then, you should have made her come with us. Friends eat dinner together.”

The problem is, I don’t want to be friends with Evie. I want to take her on a date, and run my hands through her long hair, and find out if her lips feel as soft as they look.

Chapter Nine

EVIE