“Tim got hit by a car after going on a third date with you, Colleen.”
“But he won’t end up in my emergency room. Therefore, it’s not part of the curse.”
The sound Moore made in the back of his throat did not inspire confidence.
Or make her anger recede.
“If you say so.”
“It’s true!”
“Just because it’s true doesn’t mean poor Tim is going out on a fourth date with you.”
The words made a salty-sour flavor pour into the back of her throat, tears threatening.
“I know,” she said softly, Moore’s head jerking to look at her, his expression making this harder.
Because all she saw on his face was pity.
And pity was the last thing she wanted from Moore.
Driving forced her out of her head and heart and into the very real world of vehicles and logistics. No need to add another accident to her day. Remembering the angle of Tim’s tibia made her wince.
“I’m sorry,” Moore said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t tease you like that.”
“You always tease me like that.”
“Yeah, but it lands different when it’s raw.”
Her spidey sense went off.
“You sound like you’ve got something raw going on yourself.” She made a left turn, watching cars whoosh by, the light flurries causing her to worry a bit.
Moore automatically turned the radio to the local news station. If you learned anything growing up in Maine, it was to always check the weather in winter. Freak snowstorms were a way of life.
“Yeah.”
“Jordy?”
“This time, it’s Cammie. She’s pregnant.”
“Again?”
“And getting remarried.”
“Dave proposed?”
His ex-wife, Cammie, had a love life that was like musical chairs, and there was nothing Moore could do about the revolving door of men in their life. Cammie’s last long-term boyfriend had been Mike, a minor-league baseball player, with whom she’d had a daughter, Jordy’s half-sister Soria, who was now three years old.
They’d split up and Mike had virtually no contact with his daughter. Moore never pried, but wondered if Cammie was doing to Mike what she’d done to Moore: block access to his kid.
Then came Dave.
Dave was an actuary. Boring as cardboard, but steady. Cammie and Dave had been living together since Moore’s son, Jordy, was nine, which meant Dave had lived with Jordy for longer than Moore had, technically.
Lots of technicalities today.
“No. In fact, Dave dumped her.”
“WHAT?”
“Fell in love with a supply chain manager for some auto parts company. According to Jordy, Dave got ‘tired of being Cammie’s meal ticket for her kids,’ which makes me wonder what she’s said over the years about money. I pay way more than the required child support, all of Jordy’s extras...” He sighed.
“Then who’s she marrying?”
“Guy named Locke Enlode.”
“Can you repeat that name?”
“Locke. Enlode.”
“Huh?”
“First name is Locke. Last name is Enlode.”
“Lock ’n Load? No! Sounds like a fake name. Like a porn star name.”
“He’s a minor league baseball player. Pitcher.”
“Oh.” Colleen’s heart sank.
Then it sank again.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t say a word, the opening too good to pass up as cars lined up behind her. Pulling out, she looked at the road and saw enough slush already accumulated to make a mental calculation.
Before she could reply to Moore, the radio announcer cut in:
“Severe storm warning for Lake Winnipesaukee and surrounding areas...”
As they listened to the report, Moore’s eyebrows went up, his slow, deep inhale a sign he was taking the information in and processing it. Colleen had literally known Moore since the day he was born, the Mottins and the Luviews being friends in town, but also because her brother Luke was three days older than Moore.
Colleen was two years older than the both of them.
There wasn’t an expression, a sigh, a grunt, a laugh that Moore Mottin could make that Colleen hadn’t heard before.
Other than a sound of passion.
Cheeks heating up at the thought, Colleen ignored the tingling that raced through her, taking a deep breath to center herself. As she did, Moore’s aftershave filled her senses.
And scrambled her inner signals even more.
“Bad storm. Should we re-route?” Moore asked.
“There aren’t many options. We’re in Manchester. It’s two hours either way. We can either go west of Lake Winnipesaukee or east of it and go up through Portland.”
“No good option.” Moore frowned at the sky, leaning forward. Under the sleek black wool coat, he wore a charcoal suit and dress shoes, and Colleen marveled at how professional and sophisticated he seemed. Moore always dressed like this for work, but usually when she saw him, he was in a t-shirt and jeans, or sweats.
Something about the suit made her pulse race.
Continuing on the road north, she said, “It’s the same direction for the first few miles, so we have time to decide.”
“Worst case, we get a hotel, I guess. Plenty of them here.”
“Is–is the storm that bad?” The thought of sharing a hotel room with Moore instantly charged her up. A thousand fantasies poured through her.
“Last thing we want is to get stuck on the side of the road.”
“Well, duh. But we’re both good drivers in snow. And I brought Dad’s truck on purpose. Six wheeler.” She frowned at him. “Since when do you get nervous about snowstorms?”
He sighed, resting his elbows on his knees, scrubbing his hair with his fingers. A very rumpled Moore looked back at her as she eased to a halt at a stoplight, his eyes a bit wild.
“It’s not just Cammie. I got dumped mid-flight. By text.”
“Hannah dumped you?” Hannah was Moore’s latest girlfriend. The guy had been married and divorced twice by the age of twenty-seven, which Colleen knew made him feel like tainted goods. While she loved small town life, she hated how people could be pigeonholed and stuck in an identity they never chose.
Like Third Date Colleen, for example.
Of all the people in town, she was most sympathetic to poor Moore’s curse.
“Yep. My phone was off on the second flight. Apparently, she decided to do it while I was somewhere over Cleveland.”
“Ouch. I’m sorry. Did she say why?”
“Yes.” The word was clipped. Angry. “She had a big work function this weekend, a fundraiser for some nonprofit her paper company contributes to. She said I’m too focused on my kid, and she needs someone who will be more committed to her.”
A sharp inhale of outrage was all Colleen could manage.
“That’s horrible! She really showed you who she is underneath!”
“Underneath?”
“She always struck me as being very shallow. All surface, no depth. All veneer, no hardwood. All–”
“I get the point.”
“Sorry. I’m not one to talk. Tim’s on his way to a trauma center in Manchester because of me.”