His smile is illuminated by the moonlight and so dang adorable I can’t resist it.
We linger over our goodnight kiss. It’s a slow, languid dance that heats me up in a whole different way. The pads of his fingers are featherlight as they rest against my neck. I grip the front of his shirt, keeping him close when he goes to pull away.
He laughs into my mouth, and I string him along for one more kiss before finally letting go.
Biting my lips together, I savor the lingering taste of him.
He’s still leaning over me, his hand resting on the wall above my shoulder.
We know we have to part now, to walk away for the night, but I don’t want to make the first move.
He doesn’t seem to want to either, so we just stand there grinning at each other.
I want to trust him.
The quiet voice in my mind pulls a question out of me. “Can I tell you a secret?”
His smile disappears while his eyes search my face.
I suck in a quick breath, then blurt, “I’m gonna get out of this town one day. I’ve been secretly savin’, and once I have enough, I’m taking Jackson and I’m getting out of this place. I don’t know where we’re gonna go yet, but I want Jackson to have a good life. I want to live in a place where people don’t judge me every time I breathe. I want to feel free and happy… like you.”
His swallow is thick as he gazes down at me.
I wonder what he’s thinking, but I don’t have the courage to ask.
“You can do it, Annie,” he rasps. “You deserve all good things.”
His sweet words make me smile, and I rise on my tiptoes to kiss him all over again.
30
Just Wanna Drive
Lord, I’m tired. Trying to listen to a sermon when all you can think about is a late-night kissing session is near impossible. I’m spurred on by the fact that I get to spend the rest of the day with Michael once I’ve been set free from this weekly torment.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate God and all. Mama swore He was real, and I’m inclined to believe her. She died with such grace. And the peaceful smile on her lips when she finally passed made me wonder if she was walking through Heaven’s gates in that moment. It made me feel better, and so I whisper a prayer or two when I remember.
It’s just the whole church thing that gets me sometimes. It’s all so hypocritical. How can Dean sit there in his shirt and tie, listening about how to love your neighbor when he treats me and his own son like shit? How can Reverend White stand up there spouting off about Buckland Springs being a community of care when no one cared for my mama when she needed them most?
It’s all horseshit if you ask me.
Right now, the only sure things in my life are my best friend, my brother… and Michael Barrett.
Jackson and I spend all afternoon with him. Franks and Billy had to pull out last minute. Something to do with a family lunch. Franks felt real bad, but I told her not to worry. We’d just rain check the whole thing.
I don’t actually mind one bit.
Because Michael’s revealed a whole new side of himself I didn’t know about.
And it’s sexy as hell.
His grandpa taught him how to tinker with engines, so we unveiled Grandpa’s beat-up Dodge Challenger. It was made in 1970, I think, and it was Grandpa’s pride and joy. He bought it cheap off some guy and was trying to restore it. He used to mess around with it every Sunday, and once it was done, he’d take me for rides through the countryside.
But then he died, so we covered up that car and never touched it again.
Well, you know what Michael did? He got it working.
We spent the rest of the day driving past miles of cornfields and singing along to the radio.
I swear I’ve never been so happy.
Since then, we’ve taken it for a drive every day.
We’ll sometimes wait at the bus stop for Jackson and he’ll jump in with a whoop.
He’s falling hard and fast for Michael Barrett. And so am I.
Yesterday, when we picked up Jackson, I was tempted to tell him to just keep driving.
But I sealed my lips.
I have to keep reminding myself that once Dean finds a new chef, Michael will be out of here and all I’ll be left with is Grandpa’s Dodge. It’s a really good start, but we can’t survive on petrol fumes. And will I honestly want to drive the thing around without Michael?
It’ll just be this constant reminder that he’s no longer with us.
I can’t ask him to stay here, and not once has he said he’d like to come with us when we leave town. He just told me I could do it.
So, I guess I just have to keep saving and selfishly hoping that Dean won’t find a new chef anytime soon.
Thankfully, he’s too busy enjoying Michael’s “work for nothing” wages, so he doesn’t seem in a particular hurry to replace him. The food is definitely better. Customers are happy. Things are ticking along just fine.
But I can’t expect Michael to stay forever. That’s just not fair.
He wants to get back to his ranch someday, and working for pathetic wages isn’t gonna help him get there.
My lips pinch into a frown as I head to the coffeepot and do a round of refills. The diner’s not too busy right now. We’re in between the breakfast and lunch rushes, which is a nice reprieve. It’s been a busy week, but thankfully we’re hitting Sunday again tomorrow, and I can’t wait. Jackson’s already asked me if we can skip church and just hang out with Michael all day, but we’ll have to see what kind of mood Dean’s in. Sometimes we get lucky and he’s high off some kind of sexcapade from the night before. It makes him want to sleep in, and we get away with sneaking out of the apartment and playing for the day.
Fingers crossed we get that tomorrow.
“Just takin’ my break, honey.” Dolly pats my shoulder as she walks past me.
“Okay. Take your time. It’s pretty quiet in here right now.”
“Thanks.” She grins, ducking down behind the counter to pull out her cigarettes and a lighter.
I scan the diner and try to figure out if I can get a few customers moving. It’d be nice to have this place empty for a few minutes. Then maybe I can sneak into the kitchen and steal myself a couple of kisses.
With a bounce in my step, I approach the booth Dolly was looking after and don’t stop smiling until I notice Earl Bleakman stuffing his face.
Great.
How could I forget he was here?
If anyone’s gonna dampen my mood, it’ll be one of Dean’s hideous friends. The sooner I get him out the door, the better.
“You nearly ready for your check?”
“Dean told me breakfast is on the house.” He scoops a forkful of egg and hash browns into his mouth. The food spurts out a little as he talks, and a drip of egg yolk lands on his chin.
He wipes it away with the back of his hand and gives me an expectant look.
I force a smile and shake my head. “No he didn’t. Dean never says that to anybody.”
“Fine. Just take it out of your pay, then.”
Dammit! Why is he ruining my day?
Urging back the snappy comebacks filling my mouth, I pull in a breath and try to sound polite. “I won’t be doin’ that, Earl. You pay for your food like everybody else.”