by Devney Perry
Shit. The reason she wasn’t asking wasn’t because of my answer.
It was because of the one she’d have to give.
“Listen, we don’t have to do this. I didn’t mean to pry. I’ll mind my own business.”
“It’s not that.” She blushed. “I was trying to think of an interesting question, but for the life of me, all I can think of are the boring ones. The pressure got to me.”
I chuckled. “Then I’ll go first. Where are you from?”
“California is the short answer.”
“And the long one?”
Londyn had just taken a bite. She held up her hand as she chewed and my gaze stayed fixed on her profile. It had been a long time since I’d studied a woman’s profile, and no surprise, Londyn was beautiful from any angle.
Her nose turned up at the end, just slightly. Was it strange to think someone had a beautiful forehead? Hers had an elegant curve, not too big or flat. Since I’d seen her earlier at the garage, she’d tied up her long blond hair. It was fluffed at the crown, bunched from the ponytail that draped down the center of her shoulders.
She was probably seven or eight inches shorter than my six three. She was thin, but there was strength in her body too, especially those toned legs. Damn, she had legs that didn’t quit. Second to her eyes, they were my favorite feature.
She swallowed, using her napkin to wipe her soft, supple lips. “Have you heard of Temecula?”
“No.”
“It’s about ninety minutes southeast of LA. Great weather, which is a good thing, considering where I lived. When I was sixteen, I ran away from home.”
My jaw dropped. “Sixteen?”
“Sixteen,” she repeated.
“May I ask why?”
“My parents were more interested in drugs than their daughter.” She sighed. “I didn’t think anything of it when I was little. Isn’t that crazy? I was just a kid and thought everyone’s parents were stoned twenty-four seven.”
That wasn’t crazy but it was sad. A runaway? She didn’t seem hard enough to have lived on the streets. She seemed too refined and delicate.
“I learned soon enough it wasn’t normal. I learned how to take care of myself. And when things got really bad, I decided it wasn’t worth staying.”
At sixteen. It was unfathomable. “Where’d you go?”
“I stayed in Temecula, actually. I didn’t really have a plan when I left home. I was mad and a teenager and just . . . left. Rational thought didn’t really enter the mix at that point.”
Yeah. Because she’d been sixteen. “I can understand that.”
“So I left with a backpack full of clothes and some cash I’d been stealing from my parents. I was going to walk to LA.”
“What made you stay?”
“I met a friend. She’s my best friend to this day and was living with two other kids in a junkyard outside of town at the time.”
“A junkyard?”
Londyn nodded. “Yes. That junkyard became my home for two years. Eventually, six of us lived there. That Cadillac? That’s where I lived. I slept in the backseat.”
All I could do was blink with my mouth hanging open.
No wonder she hovered over that car.
“Did your parents ever . . .”
“No, they never found me. I don’t know if they even looked. As far as I know, they didn’t report me missing or contact the police. They just let me go.”
My jaw clicked shut and a rage of temper ran through my blood. Pieces of shit.
“Don’t get angry on me there,” Londyn teased, bumping my elbow with her own. “We weren’t completely without adult supervision. There was a man who ran the junkyard and watched out for us. It was his property, and Lou let us live there. He let us use the bathroom and shower in his shop. If we got sick, he’d get us medicine.”
I blinked at her. “He didn’t report it?”
“He knew that if the cops came, we’d be gone. And we were all better off in a junkyard than going back to the hells where we’d come from. He didn’t kick us out and that was more than any adult in my life had done for me before.”
“Foster care?”
She huffed. “I wasn’t going into foster care and no one was going to make me.”
“So you lived in a car for two years.”
“I did.” A small smile toyed on her lips.
She spoke of that place like she’d lived a normal, happy and blessed childhood in a junkyard. At sixteen. It wasn’t magical, but you’d think it was, looking at her face.
I shook my head. “I-I don’t even know what to say.”
“I know it seems crazy. But you have to understand, for the first time in my life, I had people who cared about me. The six of us kids and Lou, we were a family. We looked out for one another. We made sure we all had food to eat and clothes to wear.”
“What did you do for money? What about school?”
“School was forgotten. But we all worked. We put the junkyard as our address. We used each other’s names as our parents’ names. I waitressed at a pizza place.”
Waitressing was a typical job for a teenager. What had her bosses thought? Had her customers known she’d leave work to go home to a car? “I can’t wrap my head around this life.”
She laughed, the musical sound drifting out over the water. “Think of it like camping. We were a bunch of kids who camped every night of the week.”
“What did you eat?”
“Easy stuff. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Fast food if we had the money. Bananas. Canned green beans. I brought a lot of pizza back for us to share.”
“Hmm.” My mind whirled. What would that have been like? At sixteen, I’d been worried about girls and my truck. Would I have survived a runaway life at that age? Definitely not.
Londyn was one tough woman. Tougher than I ever would have guessed. She didn’t have manicured nails but she took care with her appearance. Her hair was styled. She had on makeup and though her clothes were casual, they weren’t cheap.
And she’d spent two years as a teenager living in a car.
“It’s your turn to answer the question.”
I scoffed. “Hell, I can’t compete with that.”
She laughed again, covering her lips with a hand to hide the food she’d just put in her mouth.
I grinned and took a bite, then set my fork aside. “I grew up here in Summers. Born and raised. My parents live here. My grandparents on both sides do too.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As a kid, I’d known I had it good. But all kids took things for granted. I hadn’t appreciated the necessities in my life like clean blankets, healthy food and nice clothes. Compared to her life, I’d lived like a king.
But that wasn’t what she was talking about, was it? She didn’t feel like she’d missed out on the material things. She knew I was lucky because I had an amazing family.
It made me feel guilty for all the shit I’d put them through.
The good thing was, we’d come out together. My dad was my best friend and my mom was a living saint.
“What happened after California?” I asked. “How’d you get from California to Boston? I’m guessing that Cadillac wasn’t in driving condition if it was in a junkyard.”
“No.” She giggled. “It was a wreck. It came later, after we all went in separate directions. My two friends, Gemma and Katherine, and I took a bus to Montana.”
“Why Montana?”
She shrugged. “Why not? We wanted to see what it was like.”
“And?” I’d always wanted to visit Montana and camp in Big Sky Country. We had the Appalachians, and they were a world of their own. Once or twice a year, I’d arrange a camping trip to get away and explore. But Montana was a bucket-list trip. “How was it?”
“Beautiful. Raw.”
I was jealous at the wonder in her voice. “How long were you there?”
“About four months. Gemma and Katherine stayed lo
nger. As far as I know, Katherine is still there, but we lost touch.”
“And Gemma?”
“She found me in Boston.”
“Ah. Did you go straight from Montana to Boston?” I asked.
“Sort of. I made some stops along the way, but nothing lasted longer than a month or two. When I got to Boston, I hadn’t planned on staying, but I met someone. We got married and I stayed. Then we got divorced and I left.”
Londyn sounded as enthusiastic about her former marriage as I was about mine.
“And now you’re on the road.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I went back to my meal, eating quietly as she did the same, until another question came to mind. “How’d you get the car from California?”
“I called the junkyard owner and bought it. He didn’t remember me at first, but I told him who I was and why I wanted the car. He wanted to give it to me for free but I insisted on paying. Then I had it hauled to Boston and had it restored.”
I whistled, visualizing the price tag. It had to be at least a hundred grand. For a woman without much of an education who’d lived her life on the road, how’d she come into that kind of money? Her husband, maybe?
She tossed her fork into the nearly empty container and closed the lid. “That was amazing.”
“Not bad for a small town in West Virginia.”
“I’m quite impressed with this small town.”
My chest swelled with pride at my home.
Londyn and I sat staring out at the water as the bottom of the sun dipped below the horizon. Night wouldn’t be far off but I wasn’t in a hurry to leave. Londyn didn’t seem to be either, so we sat there in comfortable silence, listening to the water lap against the shoreline and the wind rustle the trees.
When was the last time I’d just sat beside a woman? The last time I’d been alone with a woman who wasn’t a relative or who wasn’t at the shop for an oil change had been over a year ago. A blind date from hell. The woman had talked the entire meal about money. Specifically, my money. She’d wanted to know how much I made at the garage, how much I would inherit from my parents and how much my truck and home were worth.
I’d lost her number before the waitress had delivered our meal.
Sitting with Londyn was different. There were no expectations for conversation. I asked questions not to fill the silence, but because I genuinely wanted to hear her answer. Maybe this was easy because it wasn’t a date.
Londyn was leaving Summers in her rearview as soon as her car was fixed.
The lake reflected the yellow, orange and midnight-blue of twilight as tree crickets chirped and lightning bugs sparked.
“You got more than your fair share of the questions tonight,” I said. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” She tipped her head back to examine the stars above.
I did the same, resting on my elbows. An airplane’s light blinked as it flew past.
“Do you ever wish on a star?” she asked.
“Not since I was a kid.”
“I used to wish on them every night. The top in the convertible wouldn’t raise or lower but the trunk was so wide that I’d lie on it every night and make a wish.”
“Any come true?”
“Some.” She dropped her back to the rock, lying flat. Her hair splayed over the smooth, brown surface. “I got an education. That was a wish. I didn’t want to be the stupidest person in the room anymore.”
“I highly doubt that was ever the case.” I dropped to my back, lacing my hands behind my head.
“When I was sixteen and working alongside all these other teenagers who were reading Great Expectations and Shakespeare, it sure felt like I was stupid. But I worked hard in Boston and got my diploma.”
“Did you go to college?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Me neither.” I’d planned on college and following in my father’s footsteps, but then my life had taken a different path. The good thing was, I’d had some skills to fall back on. “My grandfather started Cohen’s Garage. He passed it down to me when he was ready to retire.”
“Not your father?”
“No, Dad’s a doctor.”
“You’re a car doctor instead.”
“Exactly.” I chuckled. “Any other wishes come true?”
“I used to wish for a home—a real home. That one came true in Boston, but then I realized a house and a husband and a paycheck didn’t mean I’d be happy.”
So she’d left it all behind. Was she still searching for a home? Or had she given that wish up? “Think you’ll have a home in California?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She pushed up to sitting. “I might get a job. I might find somewhere new to live for a while. It’s not normal, but I think that nomadic lifestyle is more my style. I like the freedom. I didn’t realize it until I left Boston, but I was trapped there. I was in a cage.”
I sat up too. “So it’s you and your car exploring the country.” She’d take her home wherever she went.
“Well, the car is going to a friend. But I’ll get another. Maybe I’ll drive the new one around for the next year. Maybe I’ll hop on a plane and explore Europe or Australia or Asia. There’s a comfort for me, knowing it’s all my decision. I’m not obligated to live my life according to anyone else’s plan.”
“Huh.” I ran a hand through my hair. The idea of travel was exciting, but not having a home to return to seemed lonely to me. But again, we’d come from different worlds. Summers would always be my home.
“Sounds crazy, right?”
“Nah. Just different. I’ve lived in this town my entire life. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.” I didn’t want to live anywhere else, and I was still a free man.
She gave me a sad smile. “I’m glad you have deep roots.”
“Me too.”
She held my gaze, enchanting me with every passing second. What a life she’d lived. What a story. And now she’d give in to her wanderlust and see the world. What an adventure it would be to go along for the ride.
Her eyes glowed green in the fading light. When we’d sat up, we’d shifted closer together. All I had to do was lean over and I could take her lips in a kiss. I’d thought about those soft lips a lot the past day, wondering what she’d taste like. Would she kiss me back? Or would she dump the rest of her curry over my head? Maybe I’d misread the blushes and shy smiles.
Londyn’s eyes dropped to my mouth. Fuck it. She was leaving and I might as well go for broke. I had just dipped low, brushing my lips against hers, when a car door slammed on the street behind us.
She jumped, breaking us apart.
Damn. The universe was telling me something. This woman, who’d be a memory before the week was out, was not for me.
“Probably better head home. It’s getting late.” I sighed, collecting my container and stacking hers on top. Then I stood, holding out a hand to help her up.
“Thanks.” She brushed off the seat of her shorts and I didn’t let myself look at her ass—much.
I stepped off the rock first, my bare feet sinking into the lush grass.
She hopped down behind me. “Thanks for not kicking me off your rock.”
“Anytime.”
“Good night, Brooks.” She waved, then started toward the motel.
I lifted my arm to wave goodbye. I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
There was something fresh about her. Maybe it was her outlook on life or her spirit. Maybe it was that she had gone through so much and she hadn’t become jaded or cynical. Londyn intrigued me. She stirred my blood.
And damn it, I hadn’t had enough time tonight. I wanted more, not just to give that kiss another go, but to talk.
I should let her go.
“Londyn?” I called.
“Yes?” She turned, flashing me those gorgeous green eyes.
“You feel like sharing the rock again tomorrow night?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
Chapter Six
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Londyn
“That’s a lot of meat. There’s no way I can fit this in my mouth.”
Brooks cocked an eyebrow. “The words any man wants to hear.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” I rolled my eyes, then hefted the sandwich he’d brought me to my mouth and attempted a bite.
The thing was a foot long and weighed at least a pound—a solid brick of meat and cheese with a sprinkling of shredded lettuce and tomatoes. Oil and vinegar coated it all and a thick, sturdy loaf of bread acted more like a boat than bookends.
“Yum.” I hummed as I chewed, my cheeks bulging.
“Good, right?”
“So good.” The words came out garbled.
He laughed, then took a bite of his own, groaning as he ate.
As with all other things Brooks Cohen, that groan of his was damn sexy. It was low and deep, more like a hum coming from his heart than a sound formed from his voice box. It was soft too—if I wasn’t sitting within a foot of his side, I would have missed out.
Tonight was the third night in a row I’d eaten on the lakeside rock with Brooks. Thai that first time. Last night he’d brought pasta. And tonight, subs. Three delicious meals made more so because of the company.
We ate in silence, like the other nights, neither of us anxious to fill the quiet moments. It was like sharing a meal with an old friend, not a new acquaintance. We’d talk later. The sun had yet to drop over the horizon so there’d be time. Brooks would ask questions and I’d soak up his own answers. Last night, we’d stayed out stargazing and talking about nothing until nearly eleven.
These three meals had been three of the most relaxing I’d had in years. I didn’t have a phone buzzing and demanding attention. There was no talk about work, something I realized now had been the constant theme whenever talking with Thomas.
Conversation with Brooks was a discovery. A slow, stirring journey that spanned numerous topics. He’d told me about his parents and growing up in Summers. I’d told him about my life in Boston, skirting around the details of my divorce.