Road to Somewhere by Kelley Lynn

Author:Kelley Lynn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2014-02-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Charlie

Rooster one. Charlie zero.

We battled till 4:00 AM, I when I wound up sticking in my ear buds and cranking up my music to fall back to sleep. It’s all I want right now. Sleep makes me not think. Thinking sucks and makes my brain hurt.

But peeing and eating are something my body won’t let me ignore.

The house is quiet and feels empty as I pad down the stairs. I love the cool wood of each step against my bare feet. Mom has our whole house carpeted. And that’s not enough, she insists on placing ugly rugs all over too.

When she went on an insane redecorating trip, I refused to let her touch my room. Thank God, it might have ended up purple like Lucy’s. I’ve never seen Lucy show interest in purple. She’s more into earth tones than pastel. But Mom doesn’t pay attention to that stuff.

Nan’s house has rooster print and flower crap all over, so it’s not much better but at least you can feel comfortable here. Feel like it’s okay to slouch on the couch and not dirty the champagne-colored fabric.

I stop before entering the kitchen. Something’s off. A low out-of-tune humming comes from inside the room.

I grip the doorframe and crane my neck so I can look into the kitchen without being seen. A guy stands in my grandparents’ kitchen making a sandwich.

His back’s to me, and it’s strange because he’s not a ranch hand. He’s wearing a t-shirt, tan low-slung shorts and flip-flops. His brownish-blond hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck. My eyes linger on his legs. They are ten shades whiter than his arms, but really muscular and slightly bow-legged.

He moves around Nan’s kitchen like he owns the place. Taking condiments out of the fridge, Nan’s tea, and a bowl of strawberries that look so good, I’m surprised my stomach doesn’t audibly respond.

Who the hell does this guy think he is putzing around in my grandparents’ kitchen?

As he slathers mayo on his bread, his body moves to the imaginary music. And he keeps humming! I cover my mouth to stop from laughing out loud.

I should stop checking him out and walk in the kitchen, this is my house too. Sort of. But he stops humming and starts singing a few words.

Oh my God. It’s a total butt rock song, whatever it is. And I really have to clamp my lips to withhold an all-out laugh fest.

He spins in a little dance move, holding his butter knife mid-air, and I’m face to face with hazel eyes and dimples.

The dimples disappear the moment Drew’s eyes meet mine. He yanks out the ear buds I didn’t realize he had in. That explains the humming. And maybe how off key he was. Doubtful. A satisfied smile tugs at my lips, happy to have caught him. We’re even now. He saw me shimmying in my bathing suit and I get to see him like this.

“Hey,” Drew says, voice flat.

Cold chills run up my bare legs.

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