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.
On their way out of the subdivision, they passed a few of the other mansions nestled in the cove. The houses sat on a lot of land and were spaced pretty far apart, offering a great deal of privacy. The one closest to Lacey’s property was in foreclosure. Alec remembered that house. His dad had tended the gardens there for an eccentric old broad who used to model back in the forties.
He pulled out and onto the main road, reorienting himself with where things were. Most of the shops around here were for tourists, complete with inflated prices, and not the full-on grocery store Faith was seeking. He quickly got off the main drag and weaved his way through traffic until he hit the northwestern edge of the city.
Faith didn’t say a word on the drive. Just kept her head tipped toward the sun and eyes either closed or wide open and scanning her surroundings. She’d never been to the beach, he remembered. He’d have to take her around, show her some of the hot spots and happenings. Except he hadn’t been in Wilmington long term in years. Perhaps he’d get Jake and Lacey, along with Cole and Mia, and they’d go out as a group.
He parked the car at a chain grocery and turned to face her, expecting a comment on his driving. She didn’t offer one. Ever since Laura’s accident, people—the ones who knew about Laura, anyhow—found it necessary to point out his recklessness when he got behind the wheel. He wasn’t driving the car Laura crashed any more than he was an inattentive driver. Alec just craved the speed.
Faith’s hair was all crazy around her head, her cheeks flushed. Without thinking, he pushed the strands off her face and smoothed them down. Then he got a whiff of her sweet scent and instead of pulling back, he let his hand settle into the softness.
Apparently it wasn’t the brownies that he’d smelled the other night. It was her. Like a sugar cookie, or vanilla, or something wholesome to that effect. It made him want to bury his face in her hair and nibble his way up her neck.
“You okay?”
He blinked and dropped his hand. Cleared his throat. “Sure. You just . . . had your hair in your face. Ready?”
If possible, her cheeks grew even more pink. “Yes. Ready.”
Hands shoved deep in his pockets, he followed her around the store as she added items to her cart. Wheat bread. Skim milk. Greek yogurt. Skinless chicken breasts. Broccoli, carrots, apples . . . Christ. Didn’t she eat?
She bypassed the junk food aisle altogether.
“Okay, Faith. Hold up.” He grabbed the end of her cart and pulled it down the aisle. Snagging a bag of potato chips, he tossed them in her cart. “Better. Let’s find you some Twinkies.”
“No. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You need to eat.”
She straightened. “I eat.”
His lip curled as he looked in her cart. “Real food. Live a little. Buy the chips. Embrace the chips.”
“I can’t.”
This gave him pause. “Why?”
Fumbling with the chain around her neck, she grasped the pendant and dragged it back and forth. Her gaze drifted away, light-years away, as if she was battling with herself over whether she should talk. He waited her out. He’d wait all day. Finally, she took a deep breath and leveled him with a stare.
“I only have one kidney. I watch what I eat, monitor salt intake, and avoid caffeine so I don’t do any long-term damage.”
Three things happened in the span of two seconds flat. He suddenly had the urge to punch his own face, draw her to his chest until he wasn’t shaking anymore, and do whatever it took to wipe that expression from her features. Instead, his brain disconnected from his mouth. “Why do you only have one kidney?”