The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (christmas read aloud TXT) 📕

line. Not even for rosy lips that would haunt his dreams for the next few decades. Or for those perfectly round… Nope. Stop it.

“And how were you planning on getting to the bakery?” He backed toward his truck, dangling his keys.

“I was going to ask you for a ride.” She grinned, a wiggle to her hips as she taunted him. Was she doing it on purpose? “I’m hoping to buy a car with my next paycheck. Depending on how well my paintings sell at this auction coming up soon, and as long as my regular sales stay steady.” Without waiting for the invitation, she hopped in the passenger seat of his truck.

“Have you eaten?” He asked as he climbed in the driver’s seat and clicked his seatbelt into place.

“I was hoping to buy you breakfast as a thank you for last night.”

Teasing a smile at the corners of his lips, he held his thought to himself. That kiss had been more than enough. If anything, the best thank you would be to ditch his ass and stop tormenting him with… making him want more. “Great.”

She stayed quiet the drive into town. With few words, she directed him toward the bakery. Dammit, he’d pissed her off again, and he didn’t have a fucking clue what he’d done now. He preferred her angry tirade to the silent treatment. But at least he knew where he stood with her, not a trace of phony politeness.

Inside, he snuck ahead and paid for the breakfast and pie while she chatted with the woman behind them in line, as a pathetic attempt at an apology.

“Hey, I’m treating,” she scowled when she realized what he’d done.

“I know.”

“Then why did you pay?” She snatched the bag from the counter and pushed out the door first.

Once they’d hopped back in the truck, he let out a heavy exhale. “Why don’t you treat after that auction?”

“I can’t afford a car, but I can swing breakfast now and again.” She tore into her savory pastry, sausage and cheesy steam wafting from the top that would have made his stomach growl, but his appetite was squashed flat. This is exactly why he didn’t have friends. Probably why his family never called, either. Fucking incompetent at basic human communication.

He left his breakfast in the bag, the idea of eating making him nauseous. “That’s not what I was getting at.”

As he was quickly learning to expect, her eyes flashed with ferocity. “Well, it kinda came across that way.” Her tone was moving from defensive to flippant. And he thought he downshifted fast.

Knowing he’d stepped in it and there was no recovering, well, knowing him, he’d make it worse if he tried, he shut the hell up and drove them back out of town. She downed the rest of her breakfast in silence; somehow, even her chewing seemed irate.

When the neighbor’s house came into view, he lowered his voice, “Will you please let me get out first?”

“Only if you let me do the talking.”

“Fine.”

The house was even worse than he’d expected. The front gutter was bent down where a branch had fallen on it and never been removed, now decaying and a gust away from disintegrating. What had likely started as sunny yellow siding was now a dirt-caked mustard. Older than he was and twice as beat-up, a Subaru was parked in the dilapidated carport, filthy with out-of-state tabs that had expired a few years back. In front of the house, a shiny new full-sized truck sat in the middle of a sudsy puddle where it had just been washed.

As they stopped, a woman stepped out onto the creaky porch. Shit, she was too young to be going through this. Too slim, dressed in skinny jeans and a flannel top tied at the waist, her hair was damp from the shower and braided neatly down her back.

Her bright smile almost made the whole scene less depressing, but was so out of place, it really made it worse. Completely ignoring his request, Freya hopped out first.

She had a point. If he and Asher had come out alone, they would probably have intimidated the hell out of the woman.

“Hi, I’m Freya. This is Zane. We’re your new neighbors.”

The woman’s voice was just above a whisper, “I’m Sienna. It’s great to meet you.”

Standing back, Zane kept his distance. No bruising, and she seemed to be walking okay, but she held her left arm against her chest, her right arm bracing it at the elbow.

Freya softened her voice to match the neighbor’s volume. “I am a terrible baker, but I feel like you’re supposed to bring pie or casserole or something to the neighbors to introduce yourself, so, here you go.” She offered the pie. Damn, she was disarming. Her body language almost meek, Freya silently offered support. “We just moved in.”

“Thank you, that’s so sweet.” The woman accepted the pie with her right hand, using her left only for balance.

Zane’s fists balled at his sides as he imagined all the awful reasons why she wouldn’t use her arm. Her range of motion was limited, but she seemed to move it adequately when necessary. He doubted anything was broken, but with the way she was babying that arm, it looked to hurt like hell.

He stepped closer and added softly, so his voice wouldn’t carry through the open window, “I, uh, just got back from the Navy. SEAL buddy of mine recommended Foothills; he just got hired on with the police department. So, you know, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands while I settle in. Like if you need any help fixing the gutter or anything like that.”

Sienna bit her lips together and nodded. “That’s good to know. Thank you.” She backed up a few steps. Whatever she gleaned from the conversation, at least she knew she