“You seem awfully offended by my lie,” I blurt. He has the door open this time, but again, my words stop him.
Slowly turning to face me, he asks, “Excuse me?”
“I find it curious that you’re so angry because I didn’t recognize you, and then I lied about not recognizing you.”
His chuckle is low and less than hearty, to say the least. I’m poking the bear, and I’m caught somewhere between it being fun and terrifying. “And I think it’s curious that you’re still standing here, so maybe it’s not me who needs to be analyzed. Maybe it’s you.”
“I’m not leaving until you accept my apology,” I insist, my palms officially sweating. Why am I still here? He obviously doesn’t want to talk to me, but that’s the exact problem, isn’t it?
I hate that he’s mad at me.
“I accept your apology,” he says in a hoarse, robotic voice.
“You clearly don’t mean it.”
“What is your problem? Are you pissed that someone in your life doesn’t bend to your every whim? Newsflash, Homecoming Queen, we’re not all here to praise you and shower you with gifts.”
“I don’t think it’s too much to ask that you accept my apology,” I hiss as a hot flash of indignation zips through me. “And the fact that you won’t just proves that you’re deeply hurt because of me.”
“I don’t care enough about you to be affected.”
“Then why are you being so stubborn?”
“It’s all part of my charm.” He grunts, which is when I realize we’re standing incredibly close to one another.
Somewhere during the most ridiculous argument I’ve ever had, Austin and I closed the distance between us. The pie in his hands is wedged between both our stomachs, and my breath releases in quick, labored beats. I don’t even breathe this heavily when I hop onto the subway in the nick of time, which happens more often than not.
I’m close enough to feel the heat of his hostility more than before, and it wraps around me. It practically keeps me rooted here on this unfamiliar porch, where I’m determined to win him over.
Who does he think he is, anyway? He throws the name “Homecoming Queen” at me like it’s an insult. He doesn’t know me; yet, he has the audacity to toss stones my way.
I don’t think so.
“Just—”
“Austin? Who are you talking to?” A short, rosy woman appears in the open doorway, an apron decorated with wineglasses secured around her. Once she joins us on the porch, I get a better look at the words on her apron too, which read “Something to Wine About.” Her gaze lands on me, and I note the moment recognition dawns.
Her kind eyes widen with surprise as she beams. “Caroline Summers, my goodness! Is that really you?”
My smile is unsteady, and so is my heart rate as I basically unglue myself from Austin. Once I’m free, I finally take a relaxing inhale.
When my mother mentioned her friend Suzanne, I hadn’t recognized the name immediately, but now that she’s standing in front of me, I remember her. She managed the local children’s theater for a while, where I volunteered at times in high school. Had Austin ever come by then?
Why don’t I remember him?
“It’s so good to see you, honey,” she gushes as I give her a hug. It’s only been a few seconds with her, and already, I can tell she’s more pleasant than her grumpy son. Why has her energy not rubbed off on him? “Is this pie from Paulette? It’s two days late, but I won’t hold it against her.” She winks good-naturedly as she adds, “Clearly, she’s been busy catching up with her daughter from the big city.”
“Please don’t hold it against me, either, for taking up her time.” I wave my hands. “You should actually thank me for not eating the pie myself. It’s my weakness.”
“Why don’t you come in? I’m happy to share, but I must warn you about how we eat pie in this house—I love vanilla ice cream on my slice, but Austin thinks it’s blasphemy.”
I play along and exaggerate a gasp, but I am, in fact, thoroughly enjoying this part of my visit. “Apple pie, especially from my mother’s two hands, is delectable on its own, but it’s even better with vanilla ice cream. How could you not love that?” I ask Austin, who shoots me a glare. “I guess some people are just… too… stubborn in their ways. They’re no fun,” I chirp, purposely doing my best to wiggle under his taut skin.
Suzanne lightly smacks his chest. “This one’s idea of fun is watching Hallmark movies with me every Friday night. Can you believe it? He’s—”
“Okay!” Austin steps between us. “I think that’s enough. I’m sure Caroline has places to be, a red carpet to walk, and some poor soul to torture. Have a nice evening.”
“Don’t be rude, Austin. We’re just chatting,” his mother says with a twinkle in her eye.
“At my expense,” he grumbles.
I twist my lips like a fish and suppress a laugh. By some miracle, I manage to hold it in. How could I not be amused by the fact that big, surly Austin Kyle watches Hallmark movies with his mother every weekend? It’s too damn cute.
“I apologize for him. He’s been sulking around here for two days. He didn’t even have the decency to invite you in. I promise I taught him manners.” She pats my hand, and her touch is a heartwarming mix of comforting and friendly. She reminds me a lot of my own mother, and it’s obvious why they get along so well.
I imagine the pair gets into some mischief together too.
“Austin has actually been very pleasant. He even accepted my apology for something silly I said this morning.” I turn my sweet-as-honey smile toward him and add, “Isn’t that right?”
He presses his lips together so tightly, they disappear altogether. It looks rather painful as he nods and releases another grunt.
I clap in victory, but it’s a quick one. Frowning toward Suzanne, I say, “I will take a rain check on the pie this evening, if that’s okay. I need to get back to Mama’s for supper.”
“Sure, sure. We’ll see you next time, Sweet Caroline.” Suzanne pulls me into another hug, and all the while, I pin my amused gaze onto Austin.
And his piercing eyes sear into me too, heating me up from the inside out.
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