starting to fill out, he’d already had that part handled. And every girl in school had been aware of it.
She’d had his attention on occasion, only because they’d been friends for years, but she’d never had the kind of attention she’d wanted. She’d been so jealous of the girls he’d dated.
Carter looked up then, as if he could feel her watching him, and when his gaze landed on her, he did a double take. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her, and when she waved, he only frowned. Which made her smile.
When had the man become so grumpy?
And what had caused him to be that way?
The last question hit her more seriously. It had crossed her mind a few times over the past several days. He most certainly wasn’t the same guy he’d been in high school. Back then, he’d been a joy to be around. And a gentleman to boot. Every girl he hung with would rave about how much fun he was. How considerate. How he rarely had a bad thing to say about anyone.
But it hadn’t just been his fun factor, he’d truly been a happy person. He’d conquered optimism and held it by the reins.
He and Ginger used to meet up before daylight most mornings. They’d watch the sun rise together while doing nothing more than talking. Many mornings it would be about whatever had happened the night before, or the day before at school. She even heard about his dates. Although, never the naughty bits—which she’d been grateful for.
They’d talked about their hopes and dreams. They’d spent countless hours outlining the lives that lay before them. And they’d both known exactly what they’d wanted.
Hers hadn’t turned out at all like she thought. She wondered if his had.
She also wondered if he still had a wife. There had been no sign of one. Was that the reason for his seemingly permanent snarl? Or was he simply unhappy with life in general these days? The thought saddened her. She may not have seen him in years, but that didn’t keep her from caring about an old friend.
Patrick pulled up then, and she ignored Carter to focus on her date and his late-model BMW. She couldn’t help but wonder if flute sales were good enough to support that vehicle, because it was one fine ride. Or if, instead, the car might belong to his mother.
When he stepped from the driver’s-side door, she decided she didn’t care. He was hot.
She remembered her purse at the last minute and snagged it off the porch chair, then tossed one more wave to Carter for good measure. Again, he only frowned.
When Patrick caught sight of her and did the same double take as Carter, she warmed.
That’s right. I’m looking good tonight.
I’ve got this date in the bag.
C HAPTER S IX
S he’d had nothing in the bag.
Frustration for the way the night before had ended once again burned through Ginger’s body, bringing with it the sting of tears. She managed to hold them off, just barely, but it was only a matter of time.
What had she done wrong?
She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, ignoring the fact that the rock she sat on was damp from the dew that had collected overnight and that the dampness had seeped through her leggings.
The gray-blue of the presunrise morning sat before her, the waves rolling as the tide headed back out to sea, and Ginger gave in and let the tears fall. She’d come out to what she considered “her rock” this morning, needing to see the sun come up. She needed to know that the world was beautiful. That elsewhere, others were seeing the same start to the day. That— hopefully —at least one person watching this view didn’t have as pathetic a life as hers.
Or maybe the entire world sucked for everyone.
Who needed a man, anyway? Especially a man who lived with his mother and made flutes?
For that matter, who needed a contractor?
Well, she did, she supposed.
Gravel crunched on the pull-off up the hill behind her, and as if the last ten-plus years hadn’t passed, she instinctively knew who’d
She’d had his attention on occasion, only because they’d been friends for years, but she’d never had the kind of attention she’d wanted. She’d been so jealous of the girls he’d dated.
Carter looked up then, as if he could feel her watching him, and when his gaze landed on her, he did a double take. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her, and when she waved, he only frowned. Which made her smile.
When had the man become so grumpy?
And what had caused him to be that way?
The last question hit her more seriously. It had crossed her mind a few times over the past several days. He most certainly wasn’t the same guy he’d been in high school. Back then, he’d been a joy to be around. And a gentleman to boot. Every girl he hung with would rave about how much fun he was. How considerate. How he rarely had a bad thing to say about anyone.
But it hadn’t just been his fun factor, he’d truly been a happy person. He’d conquered optimism and held it by the reins.
He and Ginger used to meet up before daylight most mornings. They’d watch the sun rise together while doing nothing more than talking. Many mornings it would be about whatever had happened the night before, or the day before at school. She even heard about his dates. Although, never the naughty bits—which she’d been grateful for.
They’d talked about their hopes and dreams. They’d spent countless hours outlining the lives that lay before them. And they’d both known exactly what they’d wanted.
Hers hadn’t turned out at all like she thought. She wondered if his had.
She also wondered if he still had a wife. There had been no sign of one. Was that the reason for his seemingly permanent snarl? Or was he simply unhappy with life in general these days? The thought saddened her. She may not have seen him in years, but that didn’t keep her from caring about an old friend.
Patrick pulled up then, and she ignored Carter to focus on her date and his late-model BMW. She couldn’t help but wonder if flute sales were good enough to support that vehicle, because it was one fine ride. Or if, instead, the car might belong to his mother.
When he stepped from the driver’s-side door, she decided she didn’t care. He was hot.
She remembered her purse at the last minute and snagged it off the porch chair, then tossed one more wave to Carter for good measure. Again, he only frowned.
When Patrick caught sight of her and did the same double take as Carter, she warmed.
That’s right. I’m looking good tonight.
I’ve got this date in the bag.
C HAPTER S IX
S he’d had nothing in the bag.
Frustration for the way the night before had ended once again burned through Ginger’s body, bringing with it the sting of tears. She managed to hold them off, just barely, but it was only a matter of time.
What had she done wrong?
She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, ignoring the fact that the rock she sat on was damp from the dew that had collected overnight and that the dampness had seeped through her leggings.
The gray-blue of the presunrise morning sat before her, the waves rolling as the tide headed back out to sea, and Ginger gave in and let the tears fall. She’d come out to what she considered “her rock” this morning, needing to see the sun come up. She needed to know that the world was beautiful. That elsewhere, others were seeing the same start to the day. That— hopefully —at least one person watching this view didn’t have as pathetic a life as hers.
Or maybe the entire world sucked for everyone.
Who needed a man, anyway? Especially a man who lived with his mother and made flutes?
For that matter, who needed a contractor?
Well, she did, she supposed.
Gravel crunched on the pull-off up the hill behind her, and as if the last ten-plus years hadn’t passed, she instinctively knew who’d
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