I know better. I tell myself I know better, but I move anyway.
The two chairs are facing our house, their backs to her, but I grab one and whirl it around. I perch on the end, elbows on my knees, and look up to find her smiling. We’re under the shade of the same tree, the roots of the oak spreading out and warping the base of the fence that separates us.
She’s watching me, and, I swear, it’s only her smile that makes it bearable. I don’t even deserve to be talking to someone like her. To any girl. To anyone.
But her smile — soft, natural, like the opening of a flower — makes me forget that.
“What are you grinning at?” I hear myself ask, while my own grin, foreign and unpracticed, rearranges the planes of my face. My cheeks feel rubbery, like I’ve just had a shot of novocaine in the gums.
When she answers, her voice is low, almost inaudible. “I asked you to sit down, and you did.”
My eyebrows climb. “And that’s a surprise?” Wouldn’t any warm-blooded male on the planet sit if this woman asked him to? Hell, I bet most of the cold-blooded ones would as well. I think she could command even snakes and alligators to do her bidding.
Evie nods, her smile stretching. “It is. I got the feeling last night that you didn’t much care for my company.”
Regret assaults me. “I’m sorry I gave that impression. It wasn’t your company I disapproved of.” My voice drops lower of its own accord. “It was mine.”
She seems to absorb my words before tilting her chin to the right and assessing me. “Your grandmother’s right about you.”
My insides shrivel.Good God, what did Grandma Quincy say?
“Oh, yeah?” I put on my best prison yard stare. Who’s interested? Not this guy.
“Yeah.” Evie’s smile turns teasing, and her green eyes light with mischief.
We stare at each other, and I see she’s calling my bluff. If I want to know what my grandmother told her, I’ve got to ask.
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me what she’s right about?”
Evie narrows her smiling eyes as if she’s debating whether or not she should share. I feel like she’s dismantling me with her gaze. Taking me apart bit by bit, the way I might take apart a carburetor.
It’s a look that makes me feel like a rare commodity. Maybe even like I’m the only man on earth.
And if I were, it wouldn’t really matter what I’d done. Would it?
Her next words pull me out of this mini-fantasy.
“She says you’re hard on yourself. And, yeah, I agree.”
A splash of cold water in the face couldn’t have sobered me better. Too hard on myself? I wear my brother’s blood on my hands. There’s no such thing as too hard. But, obviously, talking to Evie Lalonde is a sign I’m going soft. I get to my feet.
“Grandma Quincy’s getting old. She doesn’t remember everything like she should. Have a nice day, Evie.” And I’m moving away from her as fast as I can without actually breaking into a run.
“Drew! Wait!” She calls after me. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
I turn back to her because I can’t help it. “You didn’t offend me. You just reminded me I shouldn’t be talking to you.”
Her face screws into a frown. An adorable frown. “But why not? What did I do?”
She looks so distraught — this girl I’ve just met but can’t stop thinking about — that I actually take two steps in her direction. It’s not her fault I’m unfit company. I need to tell her as much so she’ll stop looking at me that way.
“You didn’t do anything. I’m the problem, and you’re better off keeping your distance.”
Evie executes a slow nod. “Oh, I see,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “That dangerous are you?” There’s no missing the sarcasm in her voice.
What can I say to this? I’d never hurt anyone. Not again. I don’t even want to pretend that I would. But she needs to stay away.
“Just because I wouldn’t hurt someone doesn’t mean I’m safe.”