ELEVEN
The truck hummed as Rory pulled back onto the main road, the ocean slipping out of view behind them in the rearview mirror. The windows were cracked just enough to let the air move, cool against skin that had definitely absorbed more sun than it should have.
Kieran shifted in his seat, careful with his shoulders, his thighs, anything hot from the sun. He looked out at the passing coastal traffic, the glare off the oncoming windshields making him squint.
“I’m calling it now,” he said, adjusting the passenger-side visor down to block the harsh afternoon light. “I’m going to look like a fried tomato tomorrow.”
Rory glanced over, slowing down as they hit a stretch of stop-and-go traffic. “You used sunscreen.”
“Only once,” Kieran said. “Not nearly enough.” He wasn’t going to admit that other things kept him distracted most of the day.
“That’s how the sun wins.”
Kieran cleared his throat. He watched Rory’s hands on the steering wheel, the easy confidence of someone who knew these roads by heart. “Do you go to Black’s Beach a lot?”
“Sometimes,” Rory said. “Usually with friends.”
Kieran nodded, trying to keep cool. “Like...Meg?”
Rory glanced over, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah. Sometimes Meg.”
“Cool,” Kieran said. Then, because apparently he couldn’t help himself, he looked back out his side window. “Are you two—is that a thing?”
Rory’s eyebrows arched. He eased off the gas, letting the truck coast. “Are you asking if I’m dating her?”
“I mean…” Kieran gestured vaguely toward the dashboard. “You seemed pretty comfortable. Together. At the beach that day.”
The turn signal ticked rhythmic and loud in the cab as Rory waited for a gap in traffic to make a left.
Rory seemed to be deciding how much to say. “We used to hook up. A few years ago. Casual. Friends with benefits kind of thing.”
“Oh,” Kieran said.
“Yeah,” Rory said, completing the turn. The truck straightened out, heading down a quieter, tree-lined avenue. “But that ended a while back. We work together now. Strictly professional.”
“Right,” Kieran said quickly, the words tumbling out. “Yeah, no…that makes sense.”
“We’re friends,” Rory added. “But that’s it.”
“Got it,” Kieran said. The relief was so immediate he hoped it wasn’t visible, so he turned his attention to the dashboard, pretending to interest himself in the radio display. “Sorry to pry.”
Rory kept his eyes on the road. “What about you? Seeing anyone?”
Kieran laughed, not because it was funny.
“No,” he said. “Definitely not.”
“No?”
“I barely know anyone here yet,” Kieran said. The truck bumped gently over a pothole, and Kieran used the motion to reset his posture. “There’s Devon, the barista at my usual spot. She knows my coffee order better than I do, but that’s about as deep as my social circle goes.”
Rory nodded, checking his blind spot before merging into the right lane. “That’s a start.”
“She tolerates me. Barely.” Kieran shrugged, fidgeting with the window switch, lowering the glass another inch to let the coastal breeze cut through the heavy cabin air.
“She’s got a partner named Patti and three cats.
I’ve heard a lot about the cats. Like, a lot.
I know more about their eldest cat’s digestive issues than I do about most of my former coworkers. ”
Rory laughed, the sound rich and grounding over the low rumble of the engine. “That’s friendship.”
“That’s a captive audience,” Kieran corrected. “But no, I’m not dating. I just moved. And I don’t know if I’m staying.”
Rory’s face shifted, almost too quickly to catch, his grip tightening a fraction on the steering wheel. “You still thinking about leaving?”
“Maybe?” Kieran said. He watched the familiar local storefronts start to blur past. “I don’t have a plan yet. And I wouldn’t want to…start anything knowing I might pack up in six months and disappear.”
“That’s fair,” Rory said quietly.
“Or cowardly,” Kieran offered. “Depends on the day.”
Rory shook his head, coasting toward a red light and bringing the truck to a smooth stop. “Sounds like you’re just being realistic.”
Kieran shrugged, the silence stretching between them as they waited for the light to change.
“Do you have other family around here?” Kieran asked, wanting to shift the focus. “Besides your sister and Aubrey?”
Rory shook his head. “Nope, only them. My parents are in Kentucky. We see them maybe once a year.”
“San Clemente’s not too far, though,” Kieran said, recognizing the neighborhood landmarks now. They were getting close.
“Far enough,” Rory said. “But close enough for emergency babysitting.”
Kieran laughed. “You seem good with her.”
“She’s easy,” Rory said. “Honest. No filter. I appreciate that.”
“Sounds like a relief after dealing with adults all day.”
Rory glanced over briefly. Nodded.
They drove another block, the truck slowing down as their street sign appeared ahead. Then came the familiar urge to minimize, to make the moment smaller so it wouldn’t hurt when it ended. He pushed against it, gripping the edge of his seat cushion.
“I had a good time today,” he said.
Rory turned the steering wheel, easing the truck into the driveway. He killed the engine, and the sudden quiet in the cab made the space between them shrink. “Me too.”
“Even the...wellness portion?”
Rory laughed, leaning back against his headrest. “Especially that.”
For a second, neither of them moved to open their doors. The truck was already starting to warm up without the air moving through the windows.
“I’ve got aloe,” Rory said, gesturing vaguely toward his house. “In the fridge. For when you inevitably turn into a lobster.”
Kieran smiled, his hand finally reaching for the handle. “Of course you do.”
“Door’s open if you need it.”
“I’ll probably take you up on that,” Kieran said, popping the latch and stepping out into the bright afternoon.
Rory leaned across the console, looking out the open passenger window. “You writing about this?”
“No comment,” Kieran said, leaning his arms on the doorframe.
Rory grinned. “That’s a yes.”
“See you around.” Kieran shut the door and was halfway up his driveway when Rory called after him.
“Hey! I’m slammed with meetings the next couple of days,” Rory said, standing by the driver’s side, his keys jingling in his hand. “But if you’re around Tuesday night, a few of us are doing tacos and drinks. You should come.”
Kieran turned back. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Rory said, resting a hand on the roof of his truck. “Just some friends. Meg’ll be there too.”
“Cool,” Kieran said, his heart doing a small, uninvited flip. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that,” Rory said with a final nod, turning to head up his own walkway.
Kieran headed inside, his skin still radiating warmth, feeling mildly annoyed by how easily Rory could throw him off balance.
Taco Tuesday just became a possibility.