When Lightning Strikes (Whiskey Creek #1)(59)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Fine,” she grumbled.

Bedroom furniture came next. By the time they’d picked out two beds, including mattresses and box springs, and a kitchenette set, which was all that would fit in their small house, plus a couple of coffee tables and side chairs, they’d been gone all day. They arranged to have it delivered on Monday, since the store didn’t offer that service on the weekend, and headed out, tired but happy.

“We still need a TV, a washer and dryer and some patio furniture.” Gail ticked these items off on her fingers as they walked.

“It’s after nine o’clock,” he said.

“I know. At least we made a dent in it.”

“Furnishing a house by yourself is a lot of work,” he complained as he held the door for her.

“You probably haven’t done it in a while.”

“Not in a long while.”

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

He studied her tired smile. Being with her felt good. He was beginning to think it didn’t matter what they were doing.

21

“Should we stay in our house tonight?” Gail had fallen asleep against the door of the car, so this was spoken through a yawn while Simon was still driving. But she seemed excited by the idea. Simon was sort of excited by it himself. He didn’t know why such a simple thing—camping out at their new home—would sound remotely enjoyable to someone who’d traveled the whole world and had the finest of everything. But the idea made him feel light and free, unshackled for the first time in years. When was the last time he hadn’t had to watch over his shoulder for determined paparazzi, an overly zealous fan or his ex-wife, who felt she could show up at his house whenever she wanted, despite the restraining order? Maybe his past was still following him around. He had to remain vigilant for more than a couple of weeks before he could outdistance his previous behavior. But he was feeling more like his old self. He wasn’t even craving alcohol as much as he had in the past several days, which proved he wasn’t an alcoholic. With enough determination he could let it go.

“Stay there without furniture?” he said.

“We could borrow my dad’s blow-up mattress and a couple of sleeping bags.”

“And get out from under his roof? I don’t know—” he pretended to be giving it a great deal of thought “—you’d really have to twist my arm to do that.”

This bit of sarcasm elicited a playful slug from Gail. “Stop. He was better to you last night.”

“Considering how things began, there was only one way he could go.”

“It was my brother who was rude,” she argued. “My dad didn’t say anything.”

“Your dad was stoic. But he kept shaking his head as if he just couldn’t believe his wonderful daughter would be stupid enough to hook up with me. I wouldn’t call that polite.”

When she laughed, he did, too. He’d once thought she was so much more appealing when she let down her guard and relaxed. Now she was appealing all the time.

How had he worked with her for so long and been unable to detect her charm?

He’d been blinded by his own troubles. Or by the glitz and glamour of Hollywood. Maybe he was as subject to following the crowd as anyone else, despite how jaded he’d become.

“How’s your hand?” she asked.

“Starting to itch.”

“That’s a good sign.” She tightened her seat belt. “You’re leaving the stitches alone, though, aren’t you?”

He shot her an are-you-kidding-me look. “What am I—five?”

“Sometimes you don’t know what’s good for you.”

“I can’t argue with that.”

She cleared her throat. “So…about Matt.”

Surprised that she’d return to this subject, he adjusted the volume on the radio so it wouldn’t be distracting. “What about him?”

“I’m fine with our arrangement. You don’t have to worry that I’ll regret our deal or anything. My commitment hasn’t changed.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. He didn’t want her to stay with him because she felt obligated—and yet that would make it easiest to split up when the time came. “How did you know I was worried?”

She pursed her lips in a smug fashion. “I’m starting to figure you out.”

“Which means…”

“You’re not as tough as you act.”

“Oh, God. Now I’m losing all my mystery? How much worse can things get?”

He’d been joking, but she answered seriously. “Things are only going to get better. There hasn’t been one negative article printed about you in two weeks.”

* * *

“What about the windows?” Simon asked as they were packing up.

“What about them?” Gail responded.

He pictured how easy it would be to peer in at them in their new place. “They aren’t covered.”

“So? There aren’t any neighbors.” She said this while struggling to get her suitcase zipped. Simon chuckled at the sight of her sitting on it before waving her off so he could finish.

“What about the paparazzi?” he said. “They’ll find us eventually.”

She’d already moved on to closing down her laptop. “How would they trace us to Autumn Lane? No paperwork’s been recorded—not yet.”

Once he’d succeeded in closing her suitcase, he gathered up their bags. “We aren’t making it a secret where we live. Pretty soon everyone in town will know.”

“But not tonight,” she said. “So far only a handful of people even know we bought a house.”

Something else occurred to him. “What about water?”

She glanced up. “Don’t you want to go over there?”

He did. Definitely. But he didn’t want to be miserable. “If the utilities are on.”

“Even if there’s no water we can make it for one night, can’t we?” She slipped her power cord in her briefcase. “We’ll use the bathroom here before we go. At least we’ll have a few hours of privacy without constantly worrying about how we’re coming off to my father and brother.” She grinned. “I’d hate to get you all excited about skipping out on my family and then renege on the deal.”

He lowered his voice. Her brother wasn’t home, but her father was asleep in his bedroom. “Too bad you’ll never meet my family so you can see what meeting the in-laws is really like.”