Cinders Read Free Page B

except that you’re still waiting in a dark empty parking lot at night watching me through a window.”
    “You’re right, that part’s weird.” He scooped the pail’s handle from her hand before she could haul it up, paused a moment in question, and when she nodded he easily tipped it over the side to splash onto the gravel. “The last thing I want is to be weird.”
    And what do you want? she wondered but didn’t ask. No, it wasn’t a good idea to invite conversation. “Did you enjoy the biscuits?”
    “I got them for my grandfather, but yes, I did sneak one. Again, you’re magic.”
    His grandfather, she knew thanks to Midsummer’s very noisy rumor mill, lived on his own in a big house just outside of town—everyone knew, in fact, because the old man was ancient and senile, but Brennen took care of him. Left law school early to do so, much to the chagrin of his parents. She greatly admired that dedication. He’d mellowed after his misspent youth, to be sure.
    Gina retrieved the bucket and set it inside the shop, switched off the porch light, then locked the deadbolt of the heavy secure door and let the screen door creak shut. “Unfortunately we’re closed, but tomorrow I’m making pies. You might want to check out the pecan.” She turned to find him standing in her path to the steps, near—too near. With the porch light off, just the streetlights from the parking lot lit the area, cutting a halo around him and highlighting his strong jaw and serious eyes.
    God, Brennen, just don’t even bother. Words escaped her for a moment as she stared up at him, feeling so plain and messy in her second hand clothes and wild hair, the smell of pine cleaner hovering on her skin.
    But it was the sudden sharp reminder of Maureen waiting at home, not content to go to bed until she knew Gina was tidying up, that got her tongue moving again. “I have to get home.”
    “Can I drive you?”
    No. Yes. She hesitated. Her foot ached—she desperately wanted to be off it for a moment—but all she needed was a neighbor seeing the car and mentioning it to Maureen to create problems. “No, thank you.”
    His hopeful smile wavered. “Walk?”
    Yes. No. “Part of the way.”
    He took a step back and offered his arm with a gentlemanly bow; she couldn’t help but chuckle and accepted the gesture, folding her small hand over his muscled forearm.
    Gina tried to disguise her slight limp when she walked but it forced her to practically slow to a crawl. Brennen said nothing, letting her set the pace as they stepped down the handful of porch stairs and moved across the silent parking lot.
    “Did your friend not get his tarts this morning?”
    Brennen chuckled. “That was actually an excuse so I could see you without seeming creepy. But the lurking outside your store apparently took care of that.”
    She chewed on that for a moment, knowing she probably shouldn’t invite more conversation on the subject, but unable to help herself. “Why did you want to see me?”
    “For one thing,” he leaned over and grinned down at her, “I happen to like seeing pretty girls. For another, one of your sisters is almost always running cash.”
    She hadn’t guessed he came by enough to notice, the picture of him in her head shifting ever so slightly. Now it wasn’t a mere coincidence when he dropped by—he was hoping to see her . The thought warmed her through even when her brain piped up to be cautious.
    “Did I get you into trouble for being in the back room?” he asked quietly.
    “No,” she said quickly—probably too quickly, but she couldn’t take the word back. “No, it was fine.”
    “Can I ask why you stay there?”
    “No.” And she was firm about it, her entire body stiffening. Of course he’d sense something was up, of course he’d ask. Anyone who paid attention to her—and there had been very few people over the years, but there were a couple—ended up wondering the same thing. After she graduated high school, even her