“Did Owen come around after I left?” he asked, while opening the passenger door.
“No. Was he supposed to?”
“He usually stops by before the store closes.”
“Maybe he came after I left.” She swung her legs inside, and he shut the door.
When he settled into the driver’s seat, he leaned over and brushed his lips across hers. “You smell real good, woman,” he murmured. Then he started the engine and pulled away.
Casey’s lips buzzed where he had touched them. She forced herself to stare out the window, as houses and trees blurred by.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
She glanced over at him. “No. Are you?”
“No way.”
“I’m just… well, I’m sorry I bit you earlier.”
A wicked grin spread over his face. “Don’t be sorry. I like a woman who plays rough.” He winked.
She groaned inwardly.
A few minutes of awkward silence passed before he asked, “Who’s Simon?” A tinge of steel replaced the teasing warmth of his voice.
Casey swallowed. “The director of the play.”
“Has he got a thing going with Clara?”
“I don’t think so.”
“So… it’s a maybe?”
“No. It’s an I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything, and theatre people love to gossip.” She tried to laugh off the rising tension. “Why are you asking?”
“Clara’s been talking about this dude nonstop. When that happens, something’s going on.”
“Not necessarily. She may just admire him or have a crush. I don’t think it’s anything you need to worry about.”
“I’m not worried. I just wanna know something about him.”
“Then ask Clara.”
“Yeah, right. No worries. I’ll find out what I need to know.”
“I’m sure you will.” She smiled.
“I want to make sure the guy’s decent. Clara can be too trusting.”
“I get it. You’re her big brother, and you’re looking out for her. It’s sweet, but Clara will be madder than hell if she finds you’re snooping.”
“She won’t know unless”—he glanced at her—“you tell her.”
She made an exaggerated “X” over her chest. “My lips are sealed.”
He laughed, breaking the tension.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as he drove toward the outskirts of town.