Page 47 of Chasing Home
She’s the worst damn driver I’ve ever seen. It’s a miracle she passed her driver’s test in high school. The tiny sedan parked outside is the third car she’s had in two years.
“If I stay, you better leave me a beer in the fridge.”
I’m already dipping out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to grab the six-pack I’ve left cooling all day. I set a glass bottle in the fridge beside the jug of half-drank orange juice—no pulp—before nudging the door closed with my hip.
“You drink, you stay, D. Promise me no driving,” I say when she joins me and takes a seat at the small breakfast nook.
And by small, I mean small. There’s only room for two stools, but it’s only me here. The entire cabin is small, but I’ve done a lot to it in the year it’s been mine.
The hardwood throughout the entire house is original. The only thing I did to it was give it a good wax and seal. The wooden beams in the ceiling haven’t been touched, and I left the trim just how it was when the place was built. It’s the walls that needed a bit of TLC. Every single one of them was coated in yellowing, apple-tree-patterned wallpaper. It took two weeks to peel it all off.
With only the master bedroom, a small office/guest room, and a single bathroom with a tub-and-shower combo that I dumped too much money into renovating, there isn’t much space for guests. I’ve never minded that, though. All of my friends have plenty of it to offer up.
“Yes, I promise, you overbearing ape. As long as you promise not to bring Aurora back here tonight.”
I bark a laugh at her crinkled nose. “That won’t be happening anytime soon.”
“No?” she asks, a spark of intrigue appearing in her voice.
“No. And I’m not explaining anything more about it to you. I’m leaving. Thank you for all your help.”
I tug her into a hug, careful to keep the now five-pack of beer out of the way, and kiss the top of her head before heading for the door.
“Have fun, J. And make sure you listen to her. Listening is the most important thing you can do on a first date. Well, that and not being a gross pig.”
I swallow nervously, feeling the back of my neck grow damp. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”
Seeing my hat sitting on the entry table and not reaching for it is a true testament to my control. I’m much more comfortable with it on my head. It gives me some sense of confidence.
Fuck it.
I pick it up, set it on my head, and duck outside before Daisy has a chance to notice. Shaking out my shoulders, I head for my truck. Over and over again, I recite the same confident speech in my mind the entire way to the diner to grab the food I put in an order for during my lunch break.
Fifteen minutes later, I haven’t puked, and the cab of my truck smells like burgers and fries. I worry the milkshakes will be melted with how long I’ve been here stalling. Shit, I’m nervous. More terrified than I’ve ever been for a date.
I want it to go well. Better than well. Fan-fucking-tastic. So good that she can’t help but want to go on another with me. It would be too easy to mess up now, whether from stumbling over my words and saying something stupid or just straying away from my character in hopes of impressing her. I’m sure of myself, but Aurora makes me feel like a young boy with his first crush who’s ready to do anything he can to impress the girl.
It’s ridiculous, considering we’re still just getting to know each other, but I don’t think I really care.
With a swipe of my hand over the back of my neck, I sniff my pits and then turn the truck off. It’s a challenge carrying everything up the sidewalk, but I make it work with a five-pack in one fist, a cardboard tray with two shakes in the other, and a takeout bag tucked beneath my arm. There’s no way I’m asking her to help with something so simple.
“Drop my beer and you’re going to be eating alone, Johnny.”
I grin up at Rory where she stands waiting on the porch. Arms dangling over the railing, she watches me with the tease of a smile. I try not to stumble over the cracked, uneven sidewalk, but she’s so beautiful it’s hard to drop my stare to watch my step.
“I don’t plan on it, darlin’,” I reply.
The wooden steps are rotted and falling apart, so I avoid them completely and lunge up to the porch itself. Turns out my long legs are good for something. Rory is quick to reach for the bag of food slowly slipping from beneath my arm. Once she takes it, I relax a bit.
Unrolling the top of the paper bag and looking inside, she asks, “Burgers and fries?”
“Don’t forget the fifty ketchup packets I asked for or the best milkshakes known to man.”
Her eyes lift, focusing on mine. “That’s a high claim.”
“’Cause it’s the truth, and I can back it up. Do you want to eat out here or inside?”
I leave the option up to her. It was my idea for us to go to her place, and the last thing I want to do is pressure her into thinking I want to go inside for anything other than devouring this food and listening to her speak, even if I’m obviously fucking interested in having a chance for more.