Seated on his truck tailgate outside the town’s rec center, Drake had started to wonder if Fleur had gone home with someone else. A thought that irritated him a lot more than it should.
The parking area was empty of every vehicle save hers. He’d moved his truck to the spot beside her and waited, needing to speak to her again. To clarify his intentions where Crooked Elm was concerned and make peace with her.
Especially now that Emma had approached Fleur about possibly catering her wedding. He’d been surprised by that news, considering how picky his sister had been about all the arrangements for her nuptials. Fleur might be an excellent cook, but she wasn’t a caterer. He just hoped like hell she didn’t refuse Emma because of her feelings about him. God knew, the woman could be prickly. He didn’t want his sister hurt.
A moment later, a shaft of light spilled out onto the parking lot where the back door of the rec center opened. Fleur emerged, her hair now in a high ponytail as she balanced two large sacks on one arm and carried an open box in the other.
Drake shoved to his feet and jogged toward her. He’d gone home an hour ago to change into a pair of jeans and T-shirt, while Fleur was still in her gray wrap dress, the fabric hugging her curves in a way he sure as hell shouldn’t be noticing.
“Let me help.” He took the heavy box from her as soon as he reached her. “Is your car open?”
“No. My keys are in my bag. But what are you still doing here?” Her gaze drifted over him.
She was probably just noting the change of clothes. Still, he liked having her eyes on his body.
And damn it, but he needed to resolve the business between them so he could stay away from her. Bad enough to be attracted to his brother’s former fiancée. But when it was also the woman he’d steered his sibling away from, the attraction felt all the more wrong.
“Once again, I find myself wanting to correct a bad impression I made on you when we spoke earlier.” He set the box on the ground beside the trunk of her car before taking the sacks she carried out of her arms so she could find her keys.
Fleur nodded as she riffled through her bag. “Because you want to buy the land. Otherwise, you’d never dream of being nice to me.”
She withdrew a small key ring with a silver medallion of a running horse from her purse. Inserting the key into the lock, her trunk lifted, albeit with a creaking protest.
“That’s not entirely true.” He settled the box inside the trunk next to a tire iron. “I’ve dreamed of being nice to you before.” He hadn’t meant to drop his tone an octave, but there was no help for it now. “What I mean is—it’s not hard for me to be civil.”
He busied himself with the other two bags, stowing them away.
“Fine. I’m all ears for this effort you’re making to be...less wretched than I remember.” She leaned a hip on the bumper of her car and tilted her head to one side to observe him.
Her ponytail slid off her shoulder, exposing an expanse of pale skin at her neck.
He battled the urge to shut his eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose to will away visions of tasting her there.
“Will you sit with me for a minute?” Shutting the trunk of her car, he gestured toward the open tailgate of his pickup, silver metallic paint gleaming in the moonlight. “It’s a beautiful night.”
Nodding, she straightened and walked closer. He fisted his hands to keep from offering her a boost, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from going to the indent at her waist, where it would have been easy to lift her.
Once she’d hoisted herself up, he did the same. A barn owl screeched from somewhere nearby, filling the air with the unholy call.
“A beautiful night for alien invaders, maybe,” Fleur muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. “Whatisthat godawful sound?”
He laughed, grateful for a momentary reprieve from hammering out some kind of accord between them.
“That’s a barn owl, city girl. You’ve been gone a long time.”
She shivered. “Well, it’s spooky enough to be a sound effect in a horror film.”
“Have you been in Dallas this whole time?” He recalled that’s where her family used to live when they first started coming to Catamount in the summers, before the divorce that catapulted the members to opposite coasts.
“Yes. I gravitated there after things went south with Colin. My mom is on the West Coast near Lark, and my father’s business is based in New York, so that’s where Jessamyn lives.”
He wanted to ask why she hadn’t gone to either of those places after her engagement ended, but he knew it was none of his business when he’d been the cause of the split. Or maybe he just didn’t want to stir up bad memories.
“I noticed your father kept his distance today,” he observed instead. “Lark still doesn’t speak to him, either?”
She shook her head. “No. I, on the other hand, will always speak to him, but he makes sure we’re never close enough for that to happen. Lark says he’s prone to obsessive rumination, and he also has high anxiety levels, but I think he’s just an excellent grudge holder.”
The pale ribbon that tied her wrap dress fluttered in the breeze, and she captured it between her thumb and forefinger, smoothing them down the silky length.