“Wow, I didn’t know you could play badminton.”
“Well, actually I can’t, but my partner is really good,” I admitted.
“Who is it?” he asked with token interest.
“Um . . . Mike Newton,” I told him reluctantly.
“Oh yeah — you said you were friends with the Newton kid.” He perked up. “Nice family.” He mused for a minute. “Why didn’t you ask him to the dance this weekend?”
“Dad!” I groaned. “He’s kind of dating my friend Jessica. Besides, you know I can’t dance.”
“Oh yeah,” he muttered. Then he smiled at me apologetically. “So I guess it’s good you’ll be gone Saturday . . . I’ve made plans to go fishing with the guys from the station. The weather’s supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put your trip off till someone could go with you, I’d stay home. I know I leave you here alone too much.”
“Dad, you’re doing a great job.” I smiled, hoping my relief didn’t show. “I’ve never minded being alone — I’m too much like you.” I winked at him, and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.
I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening with Billy and Jacob seemed harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself whistling while I was pulling the front part of my hair back into a barrette, and later again as I skipped down the stairs. Charlie noticed.
“You’re cheerful this morning,” he commented over breakfast.
I shrugged. “It’s Friday.”
I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Charlie left. I had my bag ready, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edward was faster. He was waiting in his shiny car, windows down, engine off.
I didn’t hesitate this time, climbing in the passenger side quickly, the sooner to see his face. He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my breath and my heart. I couldn’t imagine how an angel could be any more glorious. There was nothing about him that could be improved upon.
“How did you sleep?” he asked. I wondered if he had any idea how appealing his voice was.
“Fine. How was your night?”
“Pleasant.” His smile was amused; I felt like I was missing an inside joke.
“Can I ask what you did?” I asked.
“No.” He grinned. “Today is still mine.”
He wanted to know about people today: more about Renée, her hobbies, what we’d done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I’d known, my few school friends — embarrassing me when he asked about boys I’d dated. I was relieved that I’d never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation couldn’t last long. He seemed as surprised as Jessica and Angela by my lack of romantic history.
“So you never met anyone you wanted?” he asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what he was thinking about.
I was grudgingly honest. “Not in Phoenix.”
His lips pressed together into a hard line.
We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of his brief pause to take a bite of my bagel.
“I should have let you drive yourself today,” he announced, apropos of nothing, while I chewed.
“Why?” I demanded.
“I’m leaving with Alice after lunch.”
“Oh.” I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. “That’s okay, it’s not that far of a walk.”
He frowned at me impatiently. “I’m not going to make you walk home. We’ll go get your truck and leave it here for you.”
“I don’t have my key with me,” I sighed. “I really don’t mind walking.” What I minded was losing my time with him.
He shook his head. “Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition — unless you’re afraid someone might steal it.” He laughed at the thought.
“All right,” I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Even if he broke into my house, or whatever he was planning, he’d never find it. He seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. He smirked, overconfident.
“So where are you going?” I asked as casually as I could manage.
“Hunting,” he answered grimly. “If I’m going to be alone with you tomorrow, I’m going to take whatever precautions I can.” His face grew morose . . . and pleading. “You can always cancel, you know.”