With This Heart(3)

“             It’s the only one we have, but it’s got a chip on the corner,” he muttered.

“             Will you sell it to me for a discount?” I asked. It didn’t need to be perfect for the plan.

“             You can just have it,” he shrugged, reaching out to hand it to me.

“             Oh, okay, thanks. It’s for my dog,” I told him, letting the lie multiply and take root.

“             Okay,” he answered dead-pan. “Anything else?”

A whiff of sexy cologne brought my attention back to Gravelly Voice.

“             I think this guy is looking for a casket,” I offered, pointing behind me.

His throaty laugh followed me as I took flight toward the exit. My hands pushed against the thin metal handle of the door and soon the Texas heat greeted me with a vengeance. Oh, July, must you be so cruel?

“             Hey, wait!”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up on end. I tried to assess the situation as quickly as I could: It was the middle of a Saturday in a suburb of Dallas. People were milling about on the sidewalk. Cars zoomed by, making the hot asphalt seem even more extreme. This guy couldn’t do me any harm in broad daylight. Though, if he did, we would definitely end up on the five o’clock news.             Talk about living on the edge             .

With that thought, I decided I could spare him a few more minutes.

“             What’s your name?” he asked the moment my ballet flats spun me around to face him.

His eyes were a light hazel with a bit of swirly green madness. I could see them perfectly now that we were in the sun.

“             Abby.”

He smiled like I’d just told him he’d won the lottery. It split his face in two, and instinctively I felt the corners of my mouth lift in response.

“             Abby,” he repeated. It sounded better coming from his lips than it ever had from mine.

“             Yup.” I tapped my foot.

“             I’m Beck,” he answered, pressing his hand over his heart. It seemed endearing even though I hadn’t decided what to make of him yet.

“             Like the band?” I asked, squinting my eyes and holding a hand at my brow line to shield the sun.

“             Literally.”

I smiled then because I couldn’t help it anymore. It’s hard fighting relentlessly quirky charm.

“             I want to go on your road trip,” he said again so confidently that I had to wonder if he’d ever been rejected before.

I cocked my head, and then shook it back and forth. “             My             road trip isn’t accepting any new passengers, but I’m sure there are plenty of other road trips occurring throughout the world at the same time that mine is taking place.”

He thought I was funny. He smiled at my comment, but I could see it more in his eyes. They were pinned on me, scrunched at the corners as he contemplated my rejection.

“             I’m sure,” he began, “but something tells me that             yours             is one I don’t want to miss.”

I rolled my eyes and took a step back for reasons I later realized were my body’s last attempt at staying away from someone like Beck.

“             How long will you be gone?” he asked. Maybe he had short-term memory loss. Either that or he was really good at sports as a kid. No one had beaten the fight out of him yet.

“             Two weeks… but I’m not sure why you’re asking since I would never go on a road trip with a stranger unless I wanted to end up joining a cult and drinking the Kool-Aid.”

He thought my rambling was funny enough for another smirk. “Not everyone drank the Kool-Aid,” he clarified. “Some people were sleeping or deaf, and they missed the call. Besides, it was Flavor Aid.”