Текст книги "All of Me"

Автор книги: Kelly Moran

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

He pushed the image of Laura from his mind and rose. “I’ll think about it. Thanks for lunch.”

Alec stepped off the front porch and made his way to the mimosa grove, half expecting to see a younger Mia chasing baby Ginny through the rows. Or Cole watching from an upstairs window. Lacey would be sitting somewhere, looking coiffed and perfect, while Jake thought up countless ways to ruffle her feathers.

Alec was older than them by a few years, much closer to Cole and Lacey’s brother, Dean’s, age than theirs. At least before Dean died, anyway. The summer of the accident, the Covingtons had packed up and never returned to Wilmington, and Mia had gone off to college. Strange how vivid the memories remained, despite the passage of so much time. They weren’t close friends, any of them. Mia, Jake, and Alec were the help’s children. To be seen and not heard.

The sun beat down hard as he passed the grove and arrived at the black wrought-iron fence separating the properties. Hot, humid air made sweat trickle down his back from the mild exertion. Swinging the gate open, he bypassed the big house and walked to the guesthouse, thinking over Mia’s words.

A year ago, he’d finished final edits for the last book in his series and sat at his computer to start the new one. His fingers had frozen over the keys and his brain had shut down. Just like that. One minute he had characters screaming inside his skull and plot upon twisting plot to hammer out, the next there was nothing. Worse than nothing—the silence in his head had become its own entity.

The only time in twelve months something had started to stir was last night on the beach, with Faith. Awkward, plain Faith Armstrong.

The air-conditioning soothed his heated skin as he made his way to the bedroom. Sitting at the desk, he booted up his laptop and opened a document.

An hour later, he was still staring at it.

chapter

four

Faith walked the length of the beach, toes squishing in the sand. The sun felt good, warming her clear to her bones. Before arriving in Wilmington, a cold had resonated from within her body, something she wasn’t even aware of until she was standing in what she thought was the most beautiful location on earth. Granted, she hadn’t traveled anywhere else, but nothing could touch this place. It was peaceful but never quiet. Between the seagulls and the waves, there was a constant hypnotic lull.

She checked on Ginny, who was down the beach away, collecting shells for tomorrow’s art project. Lacey had given Faith some great ideas. She’d even offered to give Ginny an official art class at her home two days a week. Ginny was very excited at this prospect.

Faith closed her eyes and breathed deep, letting her body relax. Maybe if she and Hope had been able to make the drive to the beach, things could’ve gone differently. The fresh air and warm sunshine wouldn’t have cured her sister’s disease, but it would’ve lifted her spirits. Faith firmly believed that healing wasn’t just medicinal. It involved diet and exercise and, most of all, peace of mind. Hope would’ve found peace here.

Longing and memory tightened her throat, and she wished desperately Hope were there. Even while she was sick, Hope had been a steady stream of support and love. More than sisters, they’d been friends. Faith hadn’t had a friend since her sister died. Sure, she’d been friendly with coworkers and neighbors, but it wasn’t the same.

“Alec!”

At Ginny’s excited call, Faith startled and turned. Alec slowly made his way over, barefoot and wearing board shorts. Nothing else. The skin on his chest, sun-kissed and taut over lean, lithe muscle, was lightly dusted with black hair. He moved with the grace of a predator. His body wasn’t bulging like a bodybuilder, but his abs, shoulders, and biceps were defined. She swallowed hard and forced herself to take her gaze off his chest before he noticed.

“Whatcha doing?” He crouched down next to Ginny and peeked in her bag.

“Collecting shells. We’re going to do art.”

“Fun. You have a lot there.” He looked at Faith, a slow, lazy grin quirking one side of his mouth as he stood and closed the distance between them. Definitely predatory.

She forced her gaze to focus on his face so she wouldn’t be tempted to do something else, like touch him. She hadn’t been touched in so long. “Good morning.”

“It’s afternoon, actually.”

“Right. Yes.”

He dipped his head, leveling his gray-blue eyes on her as if probing for something he couldn’t grasp. After a few moments, he straightened and nodded. “Amber,” he announced.

“What?”

“Your eyes. They’re amber. Not quite like a good whiskey, but more like organic honey. Around the edges they darken to a golden brown.”

Stunned stupid, Faith opened and closed her mouth.

“You had me in fits over that. You never quite look me in the eye and it was too dark last night to see. As someone whose vocation depends on details, madness loomed if I didn’t get an answer soon.”

She tilted her head, not quite sure if he was making fun of her or deadly serious. “You would’ve gone crazy if you didn’t know my eye color? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Something like that. Problem averted.”

She grabbed the pendant hanging from her neck and slid it back and forth on the chain. “You’re a strange man.”

He smiled openly, showing a row of straight white teeth and crinkling the skin near his eyes. Holy cow, the transformation was hypnotic.

He shrugged. “Writers are a strange lot. I’ve been called worse.”

He turned toward the water and she used the momentum of him looking away to peek at Ginny. She was sitting in the sand, lining up her shells into neat rows.

“I’ve startled you out here twice now, while you stared at the ocean. You looked lost in thought.”

She answered without her usual filter. “I’ve never seen the ocean before.”

He abruptly faced her. “You lived in Charlotte, a few hours away, but have never seen the ocean?”

As if she needed him to point out her boring life. “I never found the time, I guess.”

“Huh.” He turned to the water. “What do you think, now that you’ve seen it?”

There were no words. Besides, he was the writer. “It’s . . . vast and serene. I love the immeasurability of it.”

“‘Immeasurability,’” he repeated. “I like that word. Multiple meanings.”

“How’s the writing coming along?”

“It’s not.” He winced, and she felt for him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She thought about his ability to transport readers into his world. A genuine gift. He was obviously struggling without the talent. “Maybe you’re trying too hard.”

He laughed without mirth.

Her face heated. She shouldn’t have said anything.

Ginny rose and bounded over to them. “Can we make brownies now?”

Alec groaned. “Brownies. My favorite food group.”

As Ginny laughed at him, an idea floated to Faith’s mind and a desperate urge to help him rose in her heart. “Why don’t you join us?” Cole was in his home office and Mia was doing a shift at the VA hospital, so they wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Join you in making brownies?” He crossed his arms and looked down as if realizing his lack of clothes. “I’d need to change. And I’m a terrible cook.”

“I’m teaching Ginny safety in the kitchen and the importance of following steps. You’d be supervised at all times.”

He stared at her for a beat and barked out a laugh. “How can I refuse? Let me run up to the house and change. I’ll meet you in a few.”

She watched him walk away, admiring his body and trying to come up with ways to make him laugh again. She liked the feeling it gave her, warm and full. Drawing in a breath, she looked at Ginny. “Ready?”

They made their way past the dunes and to the back porch, where they rinsed off their feet with the exterior shower before going inside.

“What do we do first?” Faith asked.

“Wash our hands.”

“Good girl. So smart.”

Ginny washed her hands in the kitchen sink and Faith did the same. She had Ginny read her the ingredients needed, helping when she had trouble, and together they gathered what was required. They’d just preheated the oven when Alec strode in the back door.

“Are they done yet?”

Ginny laughed. “No.”

Alec took a seat at the kitchen island.

Faith held out the box to Ginny. “What do we do next?”

Ginny read the instructions out loud, stumbling a bit, but eventually getting through. Faith helped her crack the eggs and measure out the oil and water. She let Ginny whisk until her arm got tired and then Faith took over. Batter in the pan, she waited to see what Ginny would do. Faith smiled when she remembered to put on oven mitts.

“Good job, Ginny.”

While they moved around the kitchen cleaning up, she sensed Alec’s gaze on her. When the mess was put to rights, she had Ginny head to her room to read for a bit. With the teenager out of listening range, Faith pulled a notebook and pen off the table and set it in front of Alec.

“You make me nervous when you watch me like that,” she said.

He crossed his arms over the island and leaned into them. “Not my intention. I like to watch people, their mannerisms. Gives me ideas for characters.”

The last thing she wanted was to end up as one of his characters. She shivered at the thought of how he’d translate her to paper. Yet, she wondered enough to pry. “And what did you conclude by watching me?”

A trace of a smile graced his lips as his eyes looked into hers. “You’re not as shy as I thought, but I do make you nervous. I’m curious as to why. At first I thought it was that starstruck thing people always get around me, but I don’t think that’s it. And you’re very good with Ginny.”

She blinked. Her stomach fluttered at his observations and their accuracy. She focused on the Ginny comment—that was a safe topic. “It’s my job to be good with her.”

He was shaking his head before she even finished. “It’s more than that.” He pointed to the notepad in front of him and raised his brows quizzically. The light in the kitchen had made his eyes more gray than blue. A daunting shade of storm cloud.

Faith turned and grabbed the empty brownie box and set it on the island. “The notebook is for you to write down the ingredients, instructions, and nutritional content.”

His amusement turned to skepticism. “Not a lot of faith in my future as a writer? Think I need to become a baker, Faith?”

Her face flamed. “It’s transference. You’re copying something already printed to get your mind back on the act of writing itself.” Shame washed over her. What was she doing? “Will it hurt to try?”

Scratching the scruff on his jaw, he twisted his face in thought. He was so handsome it stole her breath, but he was so out of her league that she mentally slapped herself for even thinking of him that way.

After a few moments, he picked up the pen and began scribbling, gaze darting between the box and the notebook.

While he was busy, she peeked into the oven to check the brownies and hunted up some powdered sugar from the pantry. The scent of cocoa filled the kitchen and her mouth watered. She never really gave in to her sweet tooth. Her parents had instilled insanely healthy eating habits in her from birth, mostly due to Hope’s illness. Even after she’d died, the routine continued. Faith never questioned it, never tempted herself.

Suddenly, a sound she couldn’t decipher erupted from Alec, making her jump. He stood, tipping the stool backward. With rapid, jerking movements, he set the stool upright, put the pen down, and strode quickly out the door.

Faith stood, staring for several minutes after he left before picking up the notebook.

He had terrible penmanship. She scanned the page, reading the copied instructions from the box until she arrived at the last line.

Eggs fell from the carton she held with her long, elegant fingers, landing in a splatter on the Mojave-tiled floor.

Well, well. That wasn’t in the directions.

It was a dark and stormy night. Her golden eyes reflected off the flash of lightning, and he knew he had to have her. Alive as his slave or dead so no one else could claim her. Didn’t matter. She’d be his. Tonight. She’d eluded him for too many years, trying not to dream or self-medicating in an attempt to numb her mind. Foolish. Her thin, weak frame hid beneath a black peacoat, but he knew every inch of that body. The wind caught her wavy brown hair, plastering the strands to her unremarkable pale face as she crossed the street. Closer to him.

Alec reread the paragraph for the four hundred and sixty-seventh time, but it was no use. Nothing came. That was all he’d gotten out.

Faith had done something to him earlier by making him write down those ingredients. Out of politeness, he’d complied, more amused by her tactics to help than thinking they actually would. Except they did.

For a time.

Now it was hours later, night had fallen, and all he’d jotted down was a lousy paragraph. He wondered if his editor would consider this book complete.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he set the laptop aside and stretched his legs out in front of him. In the process, he knocked his handwritten timeline off the couch and to the floor. He bent to retrieve the pages and skimmed his notes.

The plot was to have the woman kidnapped and held throughout book one by the demon of nightmares. Her brother unearths all kinds of dark crazy while searching for her. In the rest of the trilogy, two more women are taken, one in book two and the other in book three, and the brother begins to find the childhood connection between them. Of course, he’s tortured by his own nightmares. Yada, yada.

His notes on book one’s female character didn’t match the paragraph he punched out. Not the first time, wouldn’t be the last. But he’d really veered this time around. Instead of blond locks and blue eyes with a killer figure, meant to embody innocence and desire intertwined, he’d gone and made her look just like . . .

Faith Armstrong.

He tossed the papers on the couch and laid his head back, staring at the ceiling. He’d been so intent on getting more written that he hadn’t even bothered with a lamp. The illumination from his laptop cast a bluish glow. Reaching over, he wiggled the laptop so the reflective pattern moved on the ceiling. Shifted.

Like the way his Nightmare demon was supposed to.

Sitting upright, he grabbed the computer and set it on his thighs, fingers hovering over the keys. Hovering, but not typing. Hovering.

Come on, come on . . .

Fuck. He considered throwing the laptop across the room. At least he’d have an excuse for the lack of productivity.

Writer’s block. How weak. He used to laugh when he heard the term from others in his circle. Alec never had a problem shutting his brain down, focusing on the story, even if it took three straight days and no sleep. Caffeine and sugar. Characters screaming in his ear. The only true escape from his guilt.

A quiet knock came from the front door. So quiet he chalked it up to nothing until it came again. A glance at his watch told him it was nine-twenty. Kind of late for a social call from Jake. Rising, he opened the door to . . .

“Faith?”

She held a plate in her hand and a wary expression. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No.”

Her gaze darted behind him to the laptop on the coffee table. “I interrupted. I’m sorry.” She looked at the plate in her hand and thrust it toward him. “Ginny felt bad that you didn’t get any of the brownies we made.”

He took the plate, grabbed her wrist, and tugged her inside before all the heat could crawl in. The brownies smelled good. Or was that her? “Yum.” He shoved one in his mouth and spoke around the chocolate. “Sugar. Mmm.”

“Yes, well . . .” Those golden-brown eyes of hers stared at his mouth, transfixed, before she shook her head. She glanced around, then peeked at the floor. “I should go.”

He swallowed. “Why?”

“You’re working.” She pointed to the table.

Not wanting to corner her—because she looked cornered—he walked to the couch and sat. As an afterthought, he switched on the lamp. “I’m not working.”

“But . . .”

“I was writing, thanks to you, but I seem to have stopped.” He leaned forward and turned the laptop around for her to see. That got her to move deeper into the room.

She didn’t look long enough to read the whole paragraph, which was just as well. She’d have to be an idiot not to see the similarities between her and his character. Most people would’ve chopped off an appendage to read his work before publication. Not her.

“That’s good. You’re writing again.”

“You missed the part where I said I stopped.”

“I’ll go.”

“I didn’t stop because of you.” He’d started because of her. “Have a brownie.” He held the plate out, wiggling it like a taunt.

“I shouldn’t. I’m not supposed to.”

Huh. “You a diabetic?”

“Er, no.”

“Allergic?”

She sighed. “No.”

“Then have a brownie.” She was so damn thin. Angular bones and soft skin. At least it looked soft.

She hesitated a moment and then took one off the plate, cupping her hand under it to catch the crumbs. It felt like a small victory when she took a bite.

“So, you don’t usually eat brownies, don’t stay awake past ten, and you’ve never seen the ocean until recently. What is it you do like to do, Faith?”

She stilled, swallowed the last bite, and avoided his gaze. “Why did you stop writing?”

“Answer my question.”

“Answer mine first.”

Ooh. A spark of challenge. “I guess because I can’t.”

“I can’t either. Do those things.” Her gaze lifted to his.

His question was what she liked to do, not what she couldn’t, but now he was interested. “Why can’t you?”

She took a page from his book and avoided answering. “Maybe you should try meditating.”

Alec set the plate aside. “You mean like chanting ‘ohm’ while closing my eyes and going to a happy place?” He hadn’t had a happy place in nine years.

This earned him a smile. “Something like that.”

“You’re one of those people.” He fixed his expression to one of mock horror.

“What people?”

“The tree-hugging, holistic, all-natural types.” He looked at her calves just below her capris. “At least you shave.”

She sighed, but the smile remained. “You’re very tense. Meditating might help you relax and clear your head.”

He was tense? “I’m tense?”

Hello, pot, meet kettle.

Her smile widened, and there was something close to a twinkle in her eye. She didn’t wear any makeup, not even a swipe of lip gloss, but he found himself liking her face. It was fresh. Clean. He didn’t know any women who didn’t hide behind cosmetics. Or seduction. And yet Faith did neither. In fact, she always had one foot out of the room.

She stood. “Enjoy the brownies. Have a good night.”

Like that. One foot out the door.

And just like she had the other night on the beach, she just up and walked away.

chapter

five

Faith was sitting on the couch in the guesthouse, staring at her cell for what had to be at least the past twenty minutes. It was Saturday, thus she was off for the weekend and left to her own devices.

It was also late morning, which meant her mother would be back from her garden club and her father would be done working in the yard. Right about now they’d be discussing what to make for lunch and if they should plan any activities for the afternoon.

A week and neither had called.

Her hands shook. She pinched her eyes closed and breathed deep, centering herself. It was just a phone call. She could do this. They were probably giving her space to settle in, not wanting to hover over her. She’d convinced herself what had happened when she’d left was just them having a hard time parting¸ and not wanting to be emotional in front of her. They were likely just waiting for her to reach out first.

Finding the number in her short list of contacts, she pressed Call before she could chicken out again. It rang and rang. Faith counted until eight rings went unanswered before she debated leaving a message. The answering machine kicked in and she froze. An automated greeting directed her to leave a message after the beep.

Her stomach rolled. Her hands grew clammy. Closing her eyes, she cleared her throat.

“Hi, Mom, Dad. It’s . . . me. I just wanted to say hello. Nothing important. My accommodations are really nice and the ocean is beautiful.” She shook her head. “I hope everything there is well. Please call if you get a chance. Thanks.” She hesitated. “I love you.”

She stared at the screen after disconnecting as it rang in her hand. It was them.

Dad’s voice sounded distracted as usual. “So, the job is good?”

“Yes. I worked with Ginny before at St. Ambrose, so it was a smooth transition.”

“Oh. Didn’t know that.”

She had told them before, after she accepted the position, but the knowledge obviously hadn’t stuck. A lengthy, awkward silence followed and Faith hated it. Hope had been the conversationalist in the family. She’d brought out all the natural parental instincts in them. They never ran out of things to say with Hope around. But, wow. She’d been gone ten years now. Had it been that long since they had a real conversation? It was one thing to sit in the same room with them and not talk, but to sit on the phone . . .

“So, uh . . . how’s the weather?”

Faith shook her head, her heart hurting. “Warm. Humid. There always seems to be a breeze off the ocean, though, so that’s nice.”

“Right. Right,” he mumbled again after a second. “Well, don’t go swimming alone. We’ll talk again soon.”

She dropped the phone on the couch after disconnecting. The picture of her and Hope stared at her from the mantel, but she couldn’t bring herself to look. Tears were already clogging her throat, dampening her eyes. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she bent over and forced herself to breathe through the looming panic attack. Why did her father even bother calling her back? Had he no interest in her life beyond the weather?

A knock sounded on her front door, making her jump.

Staring at the door, she wondered who it could possibly be. She was off for the weekend and had no friends in town. Not that she had friends in Charlotte either. Swallowing hard, she blinked rapidly to clear the signs of distress and went to get the door.

Lacey stood on her doorstep, looking bright and fresh in a blue sundress. Her long blond hair was down around her shoulders, half clipped up on one side. She smiled. “Hey, do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Faith waved her inside. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, yes.” Lacey sat on the edge of the wicker sofa and folded her hands in her lap. “We just didn’t get to know each other very well the other day at lunch, so I thought I’d come by.”

Well, how . . . unexpected. Nice. “Can I get you something to drink?” Except she didn’t have much because she hadn’t gone shopping yet. That was on the agenda for later.

“No, thank you. Sit with me?” She patted the cushion beside her. “I thought we could talk about Ginny’s art class.”

Relaxing a bit, Faith sat on the other side of the sofa and waited.

“I was thinking Ginny could come to my studio on Tuesdays and Fridays for a couple hours. I’d go over techniques and colors and so on. Maybe work with her on a few mediums until I figure out what she’s best at.”

Faith didn’t want to deter Lacey, but it was entirely possible Ginny might not excel past basic fundamentals. Ginny loved art and was excited about working with Lacey, though. “If that schedule is okay with Mia, it’s okay with me.”

“I already talked with Mia, but wanted to run it by you. I don’t want to mess with your lesson plans.”

The nerves in her belly quieted. “That’s very thoughtful. I can work around that.”

She was actually thinking of dropping Wednesday afternoon lesson plans altogether and incorporating something like home economics. Teach Ginny laundry, cooking, cleaning. Ginny was very open to learning new things and Faith hoped to encourage more independence.

“Great.” Lacey beamed. “Now, for the other reason I dropped by. Mia and I are checking out a new spa tomorrow and we wanted to invite you to come along.”

“Why?” Dang it. She hadn’t meant for that to come out so fast, but Lacey had surprised her. People didn’t just invite her to things like that. Or to anything, really.

“It’ll be fun. With the wedding coming up, I’m trying out a few salons to see who I like best. And while we’re at it, we can get a mani-pedi.”

Oh boy. This was so far out of her league it might as well be Saturn. “I’m not really good at that sort of thing.”

“What thing?” Lacey tilted her head. Realization dawned in her eyes. “You mean the girly stuff? Don’t worry about that. All you have to do is relax and have fun. They do all the work.” Lacey straightened. “Do you ever wear makeup?”

“Only on special occasions. I never learned how to apply cosmetics.”

“Your mom never showed you?”

She shook her head. Mom would be the last person to do such a thing, and by the time Faith was old enough for Hope to teach her, she’d been too sick. Faith’s gym teacher had been the one to educate her on menstruation and sex ed.

“Well, you’re pretty just as you are. I could show you a few things to bring out your natural beauty, stuff that wouldn’t take a long time. And we could get our hair done, too. Maybe shape yours up a bit. You have such beautiful, thick waves.”

Stunned into silence, Faith just stared. Compliments weren’t tossed her way very often, so she never knew what to do with them. She cleared her throat. “Thank you. That would be nice.” And before she knew what she was saying, out came, “I’m used to being in the background. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not comfortable with a lot of attention.”

Her face flamed. She turned away to stare at her hands, hoping Lacey didn’t notice.

“Noted,” Lacey said with a nod. She rose as if ready to leave. “I’d like us to be friends.”

Friends. Another foreign concept. Perhaps this was Saturn. Or maybe Neptune? “Okay.”

“I have a confession,” Lacey said. “I don’t have many friends.”

Faith may have no life, she may be a plain homebody, but she didn’t deserve to be made fun of. Irritation surged, until she looked into Lacey’s eyes and realized she was genuine. Forget another planet. She’d entered an alternate reality.

Lacey walked over to the fireplace and fiddled with the seashells. “I spent most of my life in my mother’s social circles being the belle of the ball and striving for perfection. Cole gave me the courage to break away from that and be myself. I’m still learning. Mia and I just grew close again these last few months. I’d like to get to know you better, too.”

Faith had somehow found the courage to leave home and accept this job offer when everything inside her screamed for the holding pattern she was used to. Why not embrace the choice and take a chance? Otherwise she’d just exist here, like she did in Charlotte.

“Friends.” Not a question, a statement. Something swelled in her chest as she said the word. Not altogether unpleasant.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Lacey’s fingers found the photo of her and Hope. “Who’s this?”

A pang flicked her chest. Friends talk, right? “That’s my sister, Hope.”

“I thought you were an only child.”

“She died just before my seventeenth birthday.” Actually, it was late into the eve of the night before that Hope’s body finally gave out. Twelve-thirty-three a.m.

“Oh, how terrible. So young. Was it cancer?”

In the picture Lacey held, Hope didn’t have any hair. It wasn’t a far leap to assume. Faith nodded.

“I lost my oldest brother in a car accident years ago. It still hurts.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and in her tone Faith heard every ache she herself had been living with.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Lacey replaced the picture on the mantel. “I’m sorry for yours, too. She was very pretty.”

Yes, she was. Everything, in fact, Faith could never be. “I spent a lot of time with her between treatments and other things. She was my whole life, so when she died, I didn’t know how to make friends or be around people. I guess you and I are a lot alike in that regard.” She glanced away from the avid interest in Lacey’s eyes. “What time should I be ready tomorrow?”

Lacey smiled, picked up her purse off the table, and headed to the door. “Our appointment is at ten. We’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

Grateful Lacey didn’t press the conversation, Faith nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

*   *   *

Alec climbed the few steps to Faith’s guesthouse and lifted his hand to knock. But before he could make contact, the door swung wide and Faith stepped out. She startled and placed a hand over her heart.

“You scared me. I wasn’t expecting you.” Obviously. She was holding a small purse in one hand and car keys in the other. “What are you doing here?”

That question from any other person would sound accusatory. “Brought back your plate. The brownies were good.”

She stared at the plate and then him. “That’s a paper plate.”

“Yes.”

“Implying you don’t need to return it.”

He shrugged.

A wisp of a smile graced her lips. Her golden eyes were bright in the natural light and quite fascinating. “Still not writing?”

Busted. “It would seem so. You going somewhere?”

“Er, yes. Grocery shopping. I need a few things.”

“Perfect. I’ll come, too.” Her brows lifted, so he elaborated. “I need to get out. I’m going crazy staring at my computer monitor.”

“And you want to go shopping with me?”

Just take his Man Card now. At least it wasn’t clothes shopping. “I’ll drive.”

She peered over his shoulder. “But my car is right there.”

“Mine’s more fun.”

Her bow-shaped mouth opened and closed. Pouted. “Well, okay.” She shut the door behind her and they stepped off the porch. “Define ‘fun.’”

Alec grinned. “You’ll see.”

They headed through the grove in silence and crossed Lacey’s yard to where he’d parked his car, in front of the guesthouse.

Faith drew up short. “You have a convertible?”

“It’s a—”

“Mustang. I know.” She stared at the car like she stared at the brownies—with longing. “I always wanted one.”

A girl after his own heart. Most women wondered why he didn’t drive a Ferrari with the money he made. He liked the American classic better, even though this was last year’s remake. “Get in.”

Once they were settled, he pulled the car through the security gate and onto the road. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her tip her head back and smile. Her carefree expression made him grin. Her reddish-brown hair swirled around her face, but she made no attempt to bind it. No whining about how she’d have to fix it. She was such a contradiction from the rest of the female species.