"Honest answer?"
Her full lips pursed tightly, and I knew that any amusement was mine and mine alone. I'd take that as a yes.
"Well, Angry Girl, I've never met someone who's just hated me right off the bat like you seem to. It's making me a bit curious about you is all."
"That nickname certainly doesn't help me feel gracious," she said in a deceptively sweet voice that had me chuckling.
"Fair enough." I flipped on my blinker and waited for a trailer to pass before I made the last turn toward town. I lifted my hand in greeting when the driver passed us. "But you've gotta admit that it's hard for me to call you something else when you won't tell me your name."
That made her lips pinch shut again.
Something about this girl had the back of my brain twitching and jumping. And that interest caused a whole different level of discomfort. I was in no place to be interested in anyone.
"It's fine," I said casually. "I'll figure it out eventually."
She snorted while she reached up and yanked her hair down from the knot it'd been twisted up into. Yeah, she reminded me a lot of Angel, all right. There was something feline about Angry Girl, in the way she arched her neck as she attempted something a bit neater and more contained with all that hair. The way her eyes tilted and took everything in, at her own pace and only when she deemed it necessary. Like the world was simply there, waiting patiently for her to take notice.
"Small town perks, eh?" she said.
"Oh, that's one on a long list. Like picking up stranded strangers without a second thought, bringing them where they need to go without expecting anything in return." I gave her a meaningful look.
I saw it, quick and then gone, the tiniest start of a smile. Then she glared again, like she suddenly remembered that I was public enemy number one.
Remembering something I’d shoved in my glove box, I murmured an “Excuse my reach,” and flipped it down.
I heard her suck in air at the sight of the granola bar as I grabbed it.
Her mouth hung open as I snapped the compartment shut. But instead of handing it to her, I lifted the probably-stale, older-than-I-wanted-to-eat snack up to my mouth.
With my teeth, I ripped open the side of the wrapper and took a giant bite. Her mouth fell open even farther as I chewed.
Maybe I’d lost my mind, but the way she stared daggers at me, chewing away at that oat and raisin granola bar that I wasn’t all that hungry for, was the most fun I’d had in a while.
“Oh,” I said around the last bite, then swallowed, and slid my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose so she could see my eyes, “where are my manners. You didn’t want that, did you?”
Angry Girl rubbed a hand over her mouth, like it could help her keep whatever foul words were stamped clear as day across her pretty face.
I swallowed a laugh.
We drove through downtown Green Valley, a stretch of road I knew by heart, lined with small shops and brick buildings, waving to a few people as we did. On the corner, waiting to cross the street, Scotia Simmons peered into the cab of my truck with narrowed eyes, and I grimaced.
All I could do was pray her cell phone battery was dead so that the news of my unfamiliar passenger wouldn't reach too many ears in the next hour. If it did, I'd hear about it from more than one person in my life, that was for sure. In fact, by the time I dropped her off at Fran and Robert’s, I'd bet my phone would already be ringing.
First from Magnolia, second only to my father, if there was anyone to beat her to it.
We drove the rest of the way to the Buchanan's place in silence, and I noticed the way she started fiddling with her fingers after she dropped her combat boot-clad feet down onto the floor. It was the first flinch of nerves I'd seen out of her, and that ratcheted my interest another notch or two.
"You from Francine or Robert's side of the family?" I asked.
She sighed. "I'm a Buchanan."
Finally, an answer given freely, without rancor or heat behind it. I nodded. "They're good people."
When the road curved and the Buchanan's house came into view, she sighed audibly in relief.
That brought another smile to my face. "Ready to be rid of me, Angry Girl?"
"Yup." Her knee started bouncing as I pulled into the long driveway.
Their house was large, with shiny black shutters against crisp white siding. Blue morning glories crawled up the side of the wrap-around porch, and brightly colored stalks of astilbe popped against the side of the house. Set at the back of the driveway was the renovated garage apartment where Levi used to live, though he had recently moved out to Seattle.
Connor and his wife, Sylvia, lived down the road in a small ranch house. One I’d helped them move into just before they got married, because I felt bad that I couldn’t make it to their wedding. Nice people, kind and true and welcoming, and as I puzzled over this entire interaction, it wasn’t very easy for me to place this woman into the mix.
Fran came out of the garage, a hand raised to block her view from the sun, and her face broke into a pleased smile when she saw my truck. It took a second for her to notice my passenger, but when she did, I saw her clap a hand to her chest in relief.
I'd barely slipped the gear into park when the woman next to me flung the door open, crossed the driveway with just a few strides of her long legs, and wrapped her aunt in a fierce hug.
"Oh, honey, you had me worried sick! I tried to call a couple of times and it wouldn’t go through," Fran exclaimed, pulling back to cup the sides of her niece's face. "What happened?"
As I climbed out of my truck and greeted Fran with a nod, Angry Girl finally softened into a different creature entirely. Hugging her aunt yanked all the fight out of her, and a massive smile stretched over her face.
Damn if she wasn't one of the prettiest things I'd ever seen, and that was saying something, because she was awfully pretty in anger, too. The thought was there, as quick as a flash of lightning, and had the same kind of potential for destruction, but it couldn't be stopped. I shoved it out of my head as fast as it had shown up. That was a storm that had no place in my life.
"My stupid car died," she sighed, hugging her aunt again. "And I had no cell service. I thought I was going to end up a headline in the newspaper. California transplant dies of hunger in the backwoods of Tennessee."
Fran laughed and wrapped an arm around her niece's waist, since Angry Girl was a few inches taller. "Oh, Grace, this would only happen to you, wouldn't it?"
Grace.
Those golden eyes flicked in my direction at the admission of her name, and I grinned.
"Now, Tucker Haywood, what got you involved in my beautiful niece's misfortune?" Fran asked.
I slipped my hands into my pockets and shrugged. "I just picked the right time to go for a drive, I guess. Found her on the side of the road by her car."
Fran shook her head. "Well, I don't know how to thank you, Tuck. Though I'm sure Grace already has."
The woman in question set her jaw and gave me a level, warning look.
DON’T YOU DARE, she warned, in all caps.
My grin spread, and I couldn't believe I felt this tempted to pull the tiger's tail, so to speak, after everything I’d already done.
"Of course she did," I said. "She has the manners of an angel."