At least I had no ideas in my head about this hot guy. Look but don’t touch.
With that in mind… “Well, I don’t want to keep you. Have a good night, Mr. Rhodes.”
His chin dipped, and I thought that was all I was getting, so I started moving toward the door, but I only managed to take about two steps when his rough voice spoke up again. “Aurora.”
I looked at him over my shoulder.
His jaw was tight again. The lines across his forehead were back too. “You look beautiful,” Mr. Rhodes said in that careful, somber voice a heartbeat later. “He’s an idiot for looking at anyone else.”
I swear to God my heart just totally stopped beating for a second. Or three.
My whole body froze as I felt his words burrow deep in my heart, stunning the hell out of me.
He moved toward the middle of the garage on the outside, those big hands grabbing hold of the door’s lip.
“That’s really, really nice of you to say,” I told him, hearing how weird and breathy my voice came out. “Thank you.”
“Just speaking the truth. ‘Night,” he called out, hopefully oblivious to the destruction the verbal grenade he’d just launched at me had caused.
“Goodnight, Mr. Rhodes,” I croaked.
He was already pulling the door when he said, “Just Rhodes is good from now on.”
I stayed frozen there for way too long after the door had closed, soaking in every word he’d spoken as he headed to the main house. Then I started moving, and I realized three things as I went up the stairs.
I was pretty sure he’d checked me out again.
He’d told me to call him Rhodes, not Mr. Rhodes.
And he’d waited for me on his deck until I’d unlocked the door and gone in.
I wasn’t even going to try and analyze, much less overanalyze, that he’d called me the b-word earlier.
I didn’t know what to think about anything anymore.
Chapter 16
I was excited about my hike that morning, even though I’d had to wake up at the crack of dawn to do it.
I’d still been squeezing in jumping rope a few days a week, longer every day it seemed like, and I’d even gone as far as wearing a light backpack sometimes while I did it. Was I anywhere near ready to do Mt. Everest? Not in this lifetime or the next unless I developed a lot more self-control and stopped being scared of heights, but I had finally convinced myself I could handle a difficult hike. The four-mile one we’d done had been rated as intermediate, and I’d survived it. All right, barely, but who was keeping track?
Mom had a little star and a wave-like symbol next to it. I hoped it meant something good since her information had literally been pretty direct with no other notes on it.
Every day I could feel my heart growing. Could feel myself growing here in this place.
The truth was, I loved the smell of the air. I loved the customers at the shop who were all so nice. I loved Clara and Amos, and even Jackie was back to making eye contact with me… even though we didn’t talk much. And Mr. Nez made me so happy during the few times I’d gotten to see him.
I was doing a lot better at work. I’d put up a bat house. I’d gone on a date. I was owning all of this. I was settling in.
And finally, I was going to do this hard-ass hike.
Today.
For not just my mom but for me too.
I was so motivated I even sang a little bit louder than normal while I got ready, telling someone about what I really, really wanted.
Making sure I had all of my things—a life straw, a bottle with a built-in water filter, two extra gallons to start with, a turkey and cheddar sandwich with nothing else in it so that it didn’t get soggy, way too many nuts, an apple, a bag of gummies, and an extra pair of socks—I walked out, double-checking my mental list to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything.
I didn’t think so.
Glancing up as I made it to my car, I spotted Amos trudging back to the house, shoulders slumped and looking exhausted. I bet he’d forgotten to roll the trash can to the street and his dad had woken him up to do it. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’d complained to me about it before.
I lifted my hand and waved. “Morning, Amos.”
He lifted his hand back, lazily. But I could tell he noticed what I was wearing; he’d seen me leave the house enough to go for hikes to recognize the signs: my dark UPF pants, long-sleeved UPF white shirt I’d bought at the store layered over a tank top, my jacket in one hand, hiking boots on, and a cap barely resting on the top of my head.
“Where are you going?” he asked, pausing on his journey back to bed.