Straightening my shoulders, I stepped through the door.  For the first time ever, Emmitt didn’t look up at me.  Not even briefly.  He focused on the boys and their sandwiches.

“Yep.  I thought maybe I’d eat with you guys.  How about we carry these sandwiches downstairs and eat on the grass?”  He handed each boy a sandwich and, carrying one for himself, left with the boys.

Owl-eyed and confused, I stared at the empty door as the lone sandwich he’d left on the counter mocked me.  I’d hurt his feelings with my avoidance.  Drifting to a stool, guilt ate at me.  Dejectedly, I took a bite of the sandwich.  Turkey.  With bacon.  Frowning at the delicious taste, I set the sandwich aside.  Didn’t he know I had no choice?  Couldn’t he stop asking me questions for five seconds?  Cradling my head in my hands, I grimaced remembering his questions today.  Simple, harmless questions.

I sighed and admitted an ugly truth.  The problem wasn’t Emmitt.  It was me.  I wanted to tell him everything.  How stupid could I be?  Not even a week had passed since he’d revealed his secret.  Though I’d decided to learn what I could from him, I’d yet to resolve a few things in my mind.  Primarily, the trust issue.  It was too soon for that.

Hardening myself against the guilt, I decided to keep avoiding him.

*    *    *    *

A brief rain shower Friday morning, followed by a hazy, breezeless sky, spiked the humidity.  Instead of lessons inside, Nana encouraged the boys to play in the sprinkler while they recited the things they’d learned during the last few days.  The sweltering heat of the apartment drove me outdoors, too.  I brought the blanket and book with me.

Emmitt painted upstairs until the heat drove him out.  He stepped outside without a word to me.  Calling to the boys to save him some water for later, he disappeared into the shadows of the garage and returned carrying a weed eater.  After a few sharp pulls, it started with a loud drone, and he moved to the treeline, turning his back to the porch.

Part of my frustration with myself was my inability to stop looking at him.  My eyes drifted to his back repeatedly, watching the play of muscles as he held the machine inches off the ground.  I tried lifting my book higher to block the line of sight, but the book always drifted back down on its own.  If only I could get over my fascination, maybe my stomach would stop freaking out and I would lose the urge to spill my guts.

He took off his shirt and tucked it into the waistband of his shorts.  I lost the battle and outright stared, book forgotten.

Finished with the first section of trees, Emmitt killed the motor and moved to the next, glancing up as the boys shouted to him.  I was in his line of sight.  Caught staring, I blushed and lifted my book again.

When the motor started, I quickly offered to make lunch and sprinted upstairs.  I could feel my resolve weakening.  I needed help.

After lunch, Emmitt left with Nana’s car to get the paint he needed.  He hadn’t repeated his invitation.

Nana asked if we wanted to walk in the woods where it would be cooler.  Liam heartily agreed.  Aden, pruned from so much time in the water, nodded.  I insisted they go without me if Nana could manage.  She laughed, assuring me they would be no trouble.

I ran upstairs, changed into cutoffs and a tank top, then waited on the porch.  It didn’t take long for Jim to pull into the driveway.

“Jim!” I called popping up from my spot on the porch and moving to the truck before he parked.  “Will you teach me how to drive?”

His eyebrows rose lifting his sweat soaked hair.  “You don’t know how?”

“I’m self-taught and need practice.  Everyone else is gone.”  I crowded up to the driver’s side door and gave him a pleading look.  Inside my head, a clock ticked.  We still had hours before dinner, and Emmitt would soon return with the paint.

“Sure,” he cut the engine.  “Can I shower quick?”

“I guess.”  I didn’t bother to keep the disappointment from my face.  I really wanted to leave before Emmitt got back.

He eyed me for a moment then grinned.  “I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”

I stepped back as he opened the door.  With a blur and a breeze, he vanished.

Blinking, I looked around.  What game did he play now?  We didn’t have time.  Striding to the house, I heard him singing inside and stopped.  A shower ran.  I smiled.  He moved fast.

I returned to the truck and settled into the driver’s seat.  The keys dangled from the ignition.  I touched them lightly.  I could leave.  So easy.  Of course, my brothers held me—I wouldn’t leave without them—but I could take the keys and wait.  Tell Jim I changed my mind.  No.  At some point, I had come to terms with the fact that we lived with werewolves.  Did I like it?  Not really.  Did it bother me?  Only when I thought about it, which I needed to do more often.  The urge to leave primarily stemmed from my growing fascination with Emmitt.  I needed to figure out a way to deal with that so I could become serious about getting answers about Blake.

The passenger door opened and closed with a gust of wind.  Jim sat beside me.  He was freshly showered and wearing clean shorts, sandals, and a wife beater.

“Start her up.  What do you need to know?”

I cranked the starter and took a moment to remember our quick escape.  “I figured out the gas and the brake.  Sometimes I still mix them up,” I admitted.  He gave me a worried look.  “But it’s mostly the rules I need to know.  Like who goes first at a stop sign, when to use your blinkers, what the ‘N’ stands for here.”  I pointed to the shifter display.

Putting the truck in reverse, I didn’t wait for his reply.  The gas pedal was touchier than I expected, and we flew backward.  Had the garage door been closed, I would have bumped it.  Just a little.  I mumbled a quick apology, shifted into gear, then pulled forward smoothly.

Gravel crunched under the tires as I brought us to the road.  I didn’t quite stop.  Rather, I rolled forward slowly until I could see both ways were clear then pulled out onto the road.

“Okay.  Two things,” Jim said.  “If you’re turning onto a road, use your blinker.  It might not be a law, but it’s polite.  And always stop to look both ways.  A complete stop.”

I nodded and kept driving.  He explained the gauges inside the truck while I kept my eyes on the road.  Mostly.  He suggested I take my foot off the gas when going into a curve instead of trying to keep the speed limit through it.  His advice relieved me as the last curve felt like one side of the truck had lifted off the road.

When we came to the bar Emmitt and I had stopped at, Jim begged me to pull in. This early on a Friday, cars hadn’t yet crowded the parking lot so I didn’t need to worry about avoiding anything as I jerked the wheel to make the quick turn.

I parked with a jarring stop and uncurled my fingers from the wheel.  Jim was already out of the truck and headed toward the door before I could turn to ask what we were doing there.  I unbuckled, plucked the keys from the ignition, and rushed to catch up.  I caught the door on the backswing and followed Jim inside.  Two window air conditioners hummed in the otherwise quiet bar.  It felt nice inside.  Not a bad place to cool off.

Jim called to the bartender for a double shot of whiskey.  I shuddered, remembering the tequila, and sat on the stool next to him.  The bartender gave him the glass with amber liquid.  Jim drank it down and asked for another before the man could move away.  He repeated the process four times then sighed and asked for two beers.

“Can you get drunk?” I asked Jim once the man moved away.

“Yep, but I have to work harder at it, and it doesn’t last as long.”  He pushed a glass of beer toward me.

“But I’m driving.”

“Nope, not anymore,” he said as he reached over and plucked the keys from my hand.  Considering what he’d just consumed, I thought the key confiscation a bit backward.