Sylvia sank into the seat of her car and blew out a breath. Sleep last night had been elusive. Her mind had been on babies—sweet little babies. She’d made a mental list of all the things she would need, and then she’d raked through lists of names when she knew she should’ve been counting sheep. It had all been so beautiful and exciting. Not stressful.
But seeing Embry looking positively haggard just now caused her enthusiasm to come to a startling halt. The woman was gorgeous, and she had a husband who adored her. A perfect life. What reason did she have to look so stressed? A clogged drain? Ha!
Well, it was entirely possible she had looked frazzled because she was a young mother, and her coping and management skills were still forming. There was no need to judge. True, Sylvia had finely tuned her coping skills years ago. Scraping through childhood had been a gift. It had taught her to be a survivor.
Perhaps Embry hadn’t known the tiniest bit of stress until now.
But was there another reason her enthusiasm had wilted?
Yes.
Her mind was adept at blocking and tackling unwanted thoughts, but they would eventually seep in, working like a vaccine, giving her only a small amount of the bad so she was fully equipped to attack it head-on.
As she backed out of her parking spot, she felt the prickling beneath the surface of her skin. Realization settled in. It pained her momentarily, but she was quick to turn on her intellectual switch. No need to have any sort of emotion about the thought that was now flushed out and fully formed: Hugh had lied to her last night.
About what? She wasn’t entirely certain. But she would get to the bottom of it. And she would either continue to reel him in or cut him loose. The father of her child would not be a pathetic liar. She refused to re-create the past for her future baby. Continuing onto the street, she reminded herself that Hugh was a simple man. A big, elaborate lie was beyond his skill set. But she was watching him.
At five o’clock sharp, Riki locked her classroom door. She lugged her tote to her car, knowing that it would most likely sit near her front door until Sunday. All she wanted to do tonight was curl up on the sofa with a bowl of cereal and fall asleep in front of the TV. But Chris had texted her during one of his many breaks, asking to see her tonight. She hadn’t responded yet, which was fine, because he knew she couldn’t use her phone while teaching. It was true she could’ve sent a quick text while her students had been at the library, but he wouldn’t know that. She wanted to see him, but she needed some time alone before mustering the energy to be social.
As she drove down Ocean Avenue, a smattering of drops landed on her windshield. Was that rain? She flicked on her wipers and let them swipe before turning them off. But suddenly water was slamming the windshield. She gripped the wheel tightly with one hand and turned the wipers to high with the other. After hearing all winter that they were supposed to be deluged by the “storm of the century,” they were getting a sudden downpour when it was almost spring.
She turned down the music and focused on the road ahead, anxious to get home, but she kept her foot light on the accelerator. The rain turned California drivers into maniacs. She could say this because she grew up here—she was one of them, but at least she was aware of it. The white Audi in front of her switched lanes, and she was now following a blue pickup truck. She licked her lips as she leaned forward over the steering wheel, anxious to see if the letters and numbers on the plate matched the ones stored in her memory. She hadn’t tried to memorize the sequence; it had just sort of happened. It was hard to see through the rain-spattered windshield, but she could make out the last three numbers—428. Brandon’s truck. She squeezed the steering wheel as she pulled into her driveway right behind him. Had he realized she was behind him?
They eased into their respective spots in the carport. His door opened, and a shiny black shoe appeared. She tried to ignore the increasing thump of her heartbeat. It’s only because I don’t like driving in the rain. Even though she willed herself not to look, she couldn’t help but notice he was dressed in a black suit, and his dark hair was slicked back, revealing his impressive jawline. She waited, wondering if he would rush to his apartment without saying hi. But then his hand was waving wildly. It would be rude not to respond, not to mention weird.
She scrambled from her car and scurried to his truck, thankful for the cover of the carport. “Hi, Brandon,” she called over the pelting rain.
“Hey there, Riki. Wild weather, huh?”
“Yes! It was so sudden. You look nice, by the way.” Her smile felt like it had a life of its own, and there was nothing she could do to keep it from taking over her entire face.
“Thanks. I’m coming from an audition.” He tugged on the lapel of his coat and stepped closer. “Not my usual look, is it?”
She placed her hand over her mouth as though assessing him and squeezed the wild smile from her lips. “You look great. What’d you audition for?”
He shoved a hand in his hair, and the thick silver band on his ring finger was a stark contrast to the dark brown. She let her gaze stay on it for an extra moment, seizing the reminder for her foolish heart that he was taken. “Days of Our Lives. It was a callback for a new character they’re adding who’s a mysterious millionaire. No one knows where he came from or how he made all his money.” Flashing a grin, he added, “I don’t even know if he turns out to be a good guy or a bad guy. They wanted me to play it like I was a tortured soul with an edge this time around.” He managed a hurt look before letting his eyes fall into a sneering squint. “How was that?”
“Bravo! You’re hired in my book.” She clapped her hands, her ability to think rationally zapped by his pure magnetism. “You looked like a cross between James Bond and Superman.”
His eyes lingered on hers as a smile tugged the corners of his lips. “Superman? Nah, I’m not as good-lookin’ as that guy.”
Is he flirting? Her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t muster a response. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice.
He nodded to the uncovered area beyond the carport. “Do you have an umbrella, or are you making a run for it?”
“I’m going to make a run for it. I have no idea where my umbrella is,” she said seriously, coaxing her mind to stop lingering on the idea that he might be flirting.
“Same. Are you ready?” He lifted a brow and reached for her hand.
She inhaled sharply as their hands locked.
His eyes gleamed. “On the count of three. One, two, three!”
They tore down the gravel driveway, her heart tripping in her chest. All sense of reason washed away in the rain. She wished they could keep running, past the apartments and into the street, all the way to the ocean, where they could catch a boat headed for a Greek island and live happily ever after. It would be just the two of them.
But instead, he brought them to a stop between their apartments and dropped her hand. Rain dripped from his lashes as he looked at her. “You’re soaked.”
“So are you.” She licked her lips, tasting rain on her tongue.
He laughed and grabbed her hand again, knitting their fingers together before lifting her arm. “Do, do, do, do, do-da-do . . . ,” he sang.
She stood unmoving, mesmerized.
“Twirl, girl! Haven’t you seen Singin’ in the Rain?”