COMPLETE ✓| Charlotte Hastings found herself between a rock and a hard place when she aged out of the foster system. With only a car to her name, she set out on the open road, hoping to find long lost relatives. Winter hits her hard. When she meets...
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CHAPTER SEVEN | SUNDAY DINNER
Elijah Blackwood
The whole ride to my parents' house, I kept sneaking glances across the car, trying to gauge her reaction to what I thought was an almost kiss. I felt like we had a moment back there, and everything in me wanted it to be true. It seemed like a good sign that she hadn't shied away when I touched her hair, though I had expected her to. When I met her, she had practically jumped backward at the mere thought of me. Now, she was letting me touch her face. Oh, how I wanted to do more than touch her face.
Everything in me yearned to reach across and ask for her hand, but she seemed so unbothered by everything, I couldn't help but wonder if she really felt what I did. The mere thought of her rejecting me stopped me from reaching over and asking for what I most wanted. I hoped I wasn't giving her the wrong impression. I'd probably have a better chance of figuring that out if I could settle on what the wrong impression was.
By the time we reached my parents' house, I had completely convinced myself that Lottie had no interest in me beyond friendship, a place to stay, and a fix for her car. I mean, I had tried to convince myself of that. But looking over at her singing and dancing to the terrible radio station sportscasting had me seriously questioning that decision.
"So, shall we go in, Maestro?" I shouted to be heard, "or do you need to sing more sports scores?"
She stopped suddenly and sank back into her seat and I immediately knew I had done something wrong. With my words, I had pressed one of those open wounds she carried. Though she hid them well, I knew they were there.
"I'm sorry," I looked down to avoid looking at her face. "I didn't mean anything by it. . . I was just trying to poke fun."
"Of course you were, Maestro." She smiled at me as I looked up at her. "I was just poking fun, too."
I could have let myself believe that were true, but the sadness beneath the surface pierced through her eyes. She seemed like she wanted me to drop it, so I decided against apologizing.
"Oh, you're good at that!" I tried to dig myself out of the hole. "Are you ready for my mother's famous Sunday dinner?"
"Only if there are marshmallows for the hot chocolate." She playfully tapped my arm before we got out of the truck. "I was promised marshmallows for my hot chocolate."
"I don't think my mother has ever met a marshmallow challenge she didn't win," I caught up with Lottie just as we reached the door, "But I'd like to see you try."
Oh no, I had let the flirt out again. Put that away, Blackwood.
I was spared whatever awkwardness might have come out of my mouth next by my mom opening the door and pulling Lottie into a huge hug.
