An exclusive sneak peak of In Moonlight and Memories by Julie Ann Walker!. Volume 1 publishes on July 1
As I parallel park in front of her, I watch her in the rearview mirror. She’s nervously clasping and unclasping her hands, and I wonder if she’s agitated about seeing Cash after that debacle of a hurricane party, or if she’s apprehensive about our meeting with the district attorney.
Throwing on the parking brake, I glance over at Cash. Now it’s his turn to watch her in the rearview mirror.
“I keep trying to convince myself she’s not as beautiful as I think she is,” he murmurs.
I don’t need to look back to know every detail of what she’s wearing. Black pencil skirt. White blouse with a big, loopy bow at the neckline. Pumps that accentuate the small turns of her ankles.
She dressed for the occasion.
“And I keep trying to convince myself she’s not as wonderful as I think she is,” he adds.
“Oh yeah?” I make sure there’s a healthy dose of sarcasm in my tone. “And how’s that working out for ya?”
He frowns over at me, refusing to answer. Then he hastily climbs out of the truck.
After indulging in a big, windy sigh, I join him on the sidewalk. The storm left the air crunchy and crisp, like a fresh candy cane. I guess that’s appropriate seeing as how the Christmas holiday is just about two weeks away.
“Y’all ready for this?” Maggie asks, rubbing her hands together. “Because I’m not sure I am. I’m nervous as all get-out. I can’t help thinking we’ll have hit a dead end if Broussard doesn’t come through for us.”
That’s the way she’s going to handle it? Act like nothing happened? Act like Cash wasn’t a total asswipe? Not call him on anything?
Okay, then. “We’ll find a way to convince him,” I assure her, playing along.
When we turn up the walk, she takes Cash’s arm. He extricates himself from her grasp and gives her shoulder a squeeze. “Luc’s right,” he tells her. “No worries. We got this.” Then he quickens his step, forging ahead of us.
From the corner of my eye, I see her mouth pinch. She’s no dummy. She knows he’s avoiding her touch.
The asshole couldn’t have picked a worse time to make his point. It’s obvious she needs more than words for reassurance; she needs the comfort of human contact.
It sucks to always be her second choice, but when I feel her hand slip inside mine, I curl my fingers around hers and hold on tight.