Kissing Bandit by Margaret Rose

Author:Margaret Rose [Rose, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hodson Press
Published: 2024-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

Fran

The sign for Dave’s B&B appears, and I make a quick turn onto a winding gravel drive.

“Do you realize how well you’re doing?” Despite me crashing his truck into a tree, he’s still cheering me on. “It’s like you were born to drive this truck.”

I punctuate the overstatement of the century by grinding his gears. He grimaces but, to his credit, says nothing. I know this truck means the world to him, and the fact he’s let me torture it one down-shift at a time is telling—he’s a damn nice guy.

That blind faith, and the fact that he didn’t act for a second like I was too emotional when I cried a waterpark’s worth of tears over almost knocking his front bumper clean off, is making me want to master this damn thing just as much.

He’s got a small cardboard box in his lap with our breakables from the sale we were almost kicked out of: his new Happily Ever After mug an apology gift from me, Jack’s Christmas present, the mug I plan to add to Cat’s “cat cup” collection, my new wig, and a pristine garden gnome for Meg we found under the bed in that terrifying room of mirrors. An estate sale bounty, if I do say so myself.

And we almost kissed.

I glance at him, responding to an email from Gus on his phone, his pouty lips calling my name. As much as I’d like to give in to what I think he wants, find out for myself how soft those pillow lips are, I’m not sure. His history is love ’em and leave ’em. My goal for this entire summer is self-preservation, refresh, start over. These two things do not go hand in hand. Getting involved with him when he’s turning over a new leaf and looking for serious is not a guarantee while working for him nonetheless. And even if I’ve seen nothing from him but kindness and stability, I’m not looking for serious. Serious equals pain in the end.

It’s a bad idea, I think again, shaking my head as he chews on his bottom lip in thought. I try focusing on shifting his truck down this summer-sun-streaked, deserted road. Third, no fourth, I pull down on the stick.

It’s a welcome distraction—from his mouth. Those lips that almost devoured mine. I could tell he was about to—stop, Frannie! What’s the cliché in this scenario? Think about baseball, but not John playing baseball, because I’m human. I’ve stared at photos of him in his uniform, and John in uniform takes yummy to the next level.

Okay, I can do this. Boring old baseball, old man baseball. I’ve certainly had my fill of humdrum stats and collectibles research this week. Boatloads of Ricky Boggs stuff. John’s gloves the size of my face taking up bin after bin. His long, hard, wooden bats… Shit! Focus, Fran!

“So, the plan is to meet Dave around the back of the B&B near a warehouse he keeps.” I swallow hard, speaking out

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