Chapter Two #2
I carried the folder inside and set it beside her handbag.
“We should leave,” I said. “You’ll have service in town, and you can decide what happens next.”
Talia caught the hem of the shirt she’d borrowed from me.
I turned before she pulled it over her head.
“You’ve already seen the top,” she said behind me.
“That doesn’t mean you invited me to watch.”
A pause followed.
“No,” she said more quietly. “It doesn’t.”
The bathroom door closed a moment later.
I stood at the sink and drank the rest of my water, my grip tight on the glass while I pictured her beneath my shirt.
***
Talia came out in the same leopard-print cropped top and black skirt she’d worn the day before. Her curls fell around her shoulders, her makeup had been restored with whatever she carried in that handbag, and the heels remained completely wrong for every surface between the cabin and Promise Ridge.
I locked the house and opened the passenger door of my truck.
Talia studied the height of the step.
“I can manage,” she said.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”
“You’re waiting.”
“I’m holding the door.”
She put one hand on the frame and lifted her foot. The narrow heel slipped against the metal step.
I held out my hand.
She glanced at my hand, then at me. “Taking help doesn’t make this a rescue.”
“It gets you into the truck.”
“That’s what I meant.”
Her fingers closed around mine.
I steadied her while she climbed in. Her hand was smaller than I expected, her nails cool against my palm. She released me as soon as she reached the seat and adjusted her skirt over her thighs.
I shut the door and headed around the hood before I could keep looking.
The road required both hands and more attention than I’d given it the night before. Sunlight flashed through the pines, bright on the dust and dry needles along the shoulders. I kept the truck slow over the washed-out sections.
Talia braced one hand against the dash when we dropped into a rut.
“This road has a personal problem with me,” she said.
“It treats everyone the same.”
“That doesn’t improve my experience.”
“No, but it means you aren’t being singled out.”
“I’m practicing not taking that personally.”
“You’re doing well.”
She tipped her head toward me. “Was that encouragement?”
“It was an observation.”
“I’ll take it.”
A mile farther down, the trees opened around a wide strip of cleared ground. Cut brush had been stacked away from the trunks, and the lower branches were gone from the pines nearest a small house.
Talia turned in her seat. “Did you do that?”
“I finished it yesterday.”
“What was wrong with the trees?”
“Nothing. The growth underneath them was too dense, and the branches were low enough to carry fire upward.”
“You cut all of that alone?”
“I had help hauling.”
“From Cade?”
“Sometimes. He repairs my smaller equipment too.”
She looked out the side window. “That’s going to be awkward.”
“Yes.”
Another property appeared below us, with deadfall cleared from the slope and a fresh break through the brush.
“You did that one too,” she said.
“Last month.”
“How many houses do you take care of?”
“I don’t take care of the houses.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I have contracts. People also call when a tree comes down across a road or an engine quits where it shouldn’t.”
“Do they pay you?”
“Usually.”
Her head turned slowly. “Usually?”
“Sometimes the problem needs fixing before anyone discusses money.”
“So everyone calls Jonah.”
“Not everyone.”
She waited.
“Enough people.”
“Are you always the person who fixes things?”
“I fix what I can.”
“That wasn’t quite an answer.”
“It was the one I had.”
She faced forward again.
Her phone lit in her lap.
One bar appeared, disappeared, then returned.
Talia sat straighter. “I have service.”
“Not enough yet.”
The phone chimed once before the bar vanished again.
She stared at the screen. “That was cruel.”
“It’ll hold when we get closer.”
“Promise Ridge is still how far?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
She placed the phone faceup on her thigh and watched it instead of the scenery.
I tried not to watch the bare skin above her knee.
The road smoothed as we descended. Pines gave way to wider clearings, mailboxes, and houses closer together. Another bar appeared, then a second.
Her phone began receiving messages in uneven bursts.
Talia silenced it without opening any of them.
“You can use my truck if you need privacy,” I said. “Or Mabel has a back corner near the post-office boxes that stays quiet.”
“You aren’t going to ask who’s calling?”
“No.”
“You want to know.”
“I want to know whether you need help. That isn’t the same question.”
She lowered her eyes to the screen. “I don’t know what I need yet.”
“You don’t have to decide in the truck.”
Her fingers tightened around the phone, then loosened.
Promise Ridge came into view around the next bend. The town wasn’t much more than a main road, low buildings, and a scattering of houses against the slope, but after the cabin it probably seemed crowded.
The general store sat near the center, its broad front windows reflecting the late-morning sun. A post-office sign hung beside the door. Two pickup trucks and an older sedan occupied the gravel lot.
I parked near the side of the building.
Talia reached for the handle.
“Wait.”
Her shoulders stiffened.
I got out, walked around the hood, and opened her door.
She lifted her chin. “You could’ve said you were opening it.”
“You could’ve waited two seconds.”
“You gave me a command.”
“I asked you to wait.”
“You used one word.”
“That was all I had time for before you stepped into gravel in those shoes.”
She glanced down at the drop, then accepted my hand again.
“That was reasonable,” she said as her feet reached the ground.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to enjoy it.”
“I’m not enjoying the argument.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying something.”
I let go of her hand.
The bell over the store door rang when I opened it. Cool air carried the smell of cardboard, floor cleaner, and the dusty sweetness of produce. Grocery shelves filled most of the room. A rack of summer clothes stood near one wall, with work boots and basic shoes displayed beneath it.
Mabel looked up from behind the counter, blue hair piled high above her reading glasses.
Her gaze moved from me to Talia, paused on the stilettos, and returned to my face.
I gave her a look that asked for five minutes without commentary.
Mabel raised both hands.
Talia stepped inside.
Her phone vibrated once.
Then it kept vibrating.
Four steady bars showed at the top of the screen.
She stopped near the counter, staring at the missed calls and messages filling it.
I moved toward the grocery aisle and gave her the privacy I’d promised.
For the first time since that SUV left my road, Talia could call anyone she wanted.
I kept walking because the choice had to be hers.
That didn’t mean I wanted to hear her make it.