ller turns out to have been just a diversionary tactic to hide your own murderous tendencies so that you could get me alone and hide my body in a rusted-out Chevy?”
He scoffed. “Give me more credit than that. This would be way too obvious a place to hide a body. I’d take you out camping in the hills.”
“Comforting.”
He laughed and finally stopped in front of a banged-up school bus that was parked near the back fence. It looked alone and unloved, yellow paint peeling and a black-and-orange FOR SALE sign stuck to the grimy front window. Wes swept a hand out. “Behold the mighty Adele.”
He said it with a playful, dramatic tone, but Rebecca was watching his face, and there was no hiding the way his expression changed, the obvious pang of want hovering there. This was no joke to him. He was looking at the ugly school bus like it was the woman of his dreams. A woman who would never give him the time of day.
The impact of that stripped-down desire hit Rebecca right in the chest, made her feel hollow inside. Seeing that rapt, wistful expression, she understood exactly why Wesley’s marriage had fallen apart. He already had a true love.
She couldn’t help but be envious. Had she ever looked at anything like that? Had she ever felt that passionate?
She’d felt committed to goals. Determined. Obsessed, even. Maybe before today she would’ve said passionate. But no, she hadn’t felt what he was showing on his face. This was something different. She could feel it rolling off him, that magic of wanting something so much.
Rebecca let go of his hand and faced the bus, needing to shake off the empty ache it’d opened up inside her. She stared at the hulking beast and tried to see what Wes saw, tried to taste a little of that magic. “So…a school bus.”
“Yeah.” Wes stepped closer and patted the hood with affection. “She was. Someone started the process of converting it to a food truck but abandoned the project when they ran out of money or energy. A few of the seats have been taken out and there are hookups for equipment, but that’s about it. She needs a lot of love.”
Rebecca sent him a look. “She? A name and a gender?”
He pointed to the school district name on the side of the bus, Del Valle. “Clearly Adele is a she.”
Rebecca shook her head with a smile, charmed by how boyishly enthused he was. “You’ve got it bad, Wesley Garrett.”
He gave her a rueful smile. “That obvious?”
“Quite. It’s kind of adorable.”
He pointed to his chest in mock shock. “Me? Adorable? I feel like we’re making progress here, Lindt. From not your type to asshole to adorable.”
She rolled her eyes. “The scale can shift back and forth, so don’t get too cocky.” She walked over to eye the price, which was written in bright-green greasepaint on the side window. “Tell me what you’d do to her.”
He leaned against the side of the bus, and a slow smile lifted his lips. “Now that sounds dirty, lawyer girl.”
“Are you flirting with me in front of Adele?” she teased, not recognizing the playful lilt in her voice.
“Depends,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Is this a date or a further conversation?”
“I…” She gave him a tense smile. “Must we define it?”
“Okay, then how about this?” he said, his focused gaze not giving her any place to hide. “Did you kiss me because you were drunk?”
The left-field question wiped the smile from her lips, and her heart jumped into her throat. “What?”
He pushed off the bus and stepped closer, not touching her but not exactly keeping a friendly distance. His eyes held challenge and not an ounce of the earlier playfulness. “I’ve tried to pretend that it didn’t happen. I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s not working. Not when we keep finding ourselves in close proximity to each other. And with you standing here under these lights, smiling at me like that and looking like you really do give a shit about what I’d do to remodel this hunk of metal, I can’t concentrate on anything else. So I need to know. That first night…did you kiss me because you were drunk?”
Her blood roared in her ears as he repeated his question, his broad body blocking out anything but her view of him. She was suddenly very aware of their aloneness, of the quiet intimacy of the situation. She forced a response past the tightness in her throat. “Why?”
“Answer the question, Rebecca.”
Answer the question. Answer the question. She wet her lips. “I wasn’t drunk.”
His jaw flexed, and she couldn’t tell if he was happy about her answer or pissed. “You knew who I was. You thought I was a liar and a cheat. You told me I wasn’t your type. Why did you kiss me?”
She swallowed hard. “I wish I had the answer to that.”
“Try.”