I can see that being true. If it weren’t for his bad attitude and the constant sneer marking his otherwise beautiful face, Ezekiel Benson would be every girl’s fantasy. Thankfully, I can see right through his bull crap.
“We need to get going.”
Rebecca sighs as Zeke walks up, and I don’t even bother to hide my eye roll.
“Hey, Zeke,” she coos.
“Hey, umm,” he begins.
“Becca,” she offers.
“Yeah. Hey, Becca.” He turns to me. “Ready?”
“It was nice to meet you, Rebecca.” I give her a little wave before I turn and walk out the front door, not bothering with pleasantries where Zeke is concerned.
We both settle back in the truck, and Zeke drives us to the next stop, some former gas station remodeled into what appears to be another feed store. I don’t even bother getting out of the truck this time.
He’s gone for ages. So long in fact, I rest my head on the seat back and let my eyes flutter closed. The warmth of the sun heats the cab of the truck but the wind flowing through the open windows keeps it from getting too hot. Being alone in the truck is ten times better than being stuck beside his broody butt.
Eventually, Zeke wakes me when he returns, wrenching the driver’s side door open, the screech its hinges make snapping me from my nap.
“Must be nice,” he grumbles. “Wish I had the ability to take a nap in the middle of the damn day.”
I ignore his jab, knowing he’d be even more annoyed if I followed him around all day like a lost puppy.
“How old is Rebecca?”
“Who?” He pulls out of the parking lot, and the scrunch of his nose makes me believe every word Rebecca mentioned. He doesn’t even know people exist. If they don’t benefit him, they don’t even register.
“The girl from the feed store. How old is she?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Nineteen or twenty maybe.”
“She’s pregnant with her second child,” I tell him like it’s news. He’s from around here. He should know these things. “Did she get pregnant in high school?”
He sighs in frustration. “I have no doubt that girl was pure as the driven snow the day she walked down the aisle. Most girls around here are. She dropped out of high school to get married.”
It’s my nose’s turn to crinkle. “Really?”
He glances over at me as he rolls up to a stop sign. “Don’t act so surprised. It’s what the girls do around here. They get married and start popping out babies.”
“Is her husband older?” At least that would make a little more sense.
“Joseph?” So he does know who she is. “He’s a year younger, I think.”
“No freaking way,” I mumble to myself.
“What,” Zeke taunts. “You don’t want a houseful of babies by the time you turn twenty?”
“Heck no,” I answer without hesitation. “I don’t even think I want kids.”
“Too selfish?” He doesn’t bother looking at me, but that doesn’t stop the sting of his words.
“I don’t have the best examples as far as parents go. I don’t want to regret having a child the way my parents do.”
His jaw works, but his lips stay closed. He doesn’t ask for more details. He doesn’t look at me with sympathy—which I’m grateful for. He doesn’t speak except for the occasional grunt for the rest of the day.
So I do the only thing I can think of. I spend the entire day chattering about anything and everything. By the time we climb back in the truck after working through Nan’s grocery list, I’m sick of my own voice, but the ever increasing frown on Zeke’s lips makes it all worth it.Chapter 9Zeke
She’s talked and talked and talked.
And talked.
For hours Frankie has rambled on about anything and everything. At first, I wondered if she’d hit her head, but when she started reciting a recipe for homemade hummus, I knew she was only doing it to mess with me.
I wish I could say I’m capable of tuning her out, but I’m not. If anything, I kind of enjoy the soft lilt of her voice and the way she grins when I sigh in pretend frustration.
Even though she’s chattered incessantly all damn day, I still hate the sight of her grandmother’s farmhouse as we draw near. I need space from her, but at the same time, I don’t want her to walk inside without me. I don’t want our day to end, and like always that pisses me off. It’s almost like I need her, and there’s nothing I can do to eliminate that desire to be around her. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need to be entertained. Yet, here we are, sitting in the truck, staring at her nan’s front door like it’s the gates of hell. Well, I am, at least. I don’t know about her. She hasn’t paused to take a breath.