A Song For Rory. Cerella Sechrist

of Sunday drives, wedged in the middle of the cab between her dad and brother. She hadn’t minded that Connor inherited the pickup because she knew he’d take good care of it, as their father had. But now that the restaurant was doing so well, and Connor was marrying Harper, he’d bought a more family-friendly SUV and given her use of their dad’s old truck.

      She nearly ran the last few steps, then pulled open the door with a creak and climbed inside. She never locked it. It wasn’t worth stealing, and she kept nothing of value inside. But when she reached for the keys she usually kept hooked on the belt loop of her jeans, she frowned.

      Oh, no. She’d left her keys beneath the counter of the bar inside. She pushed her head against the headrest and groaned. She couldn’t go back for them. No way.

      Which meant that if she wanted to avoid Sawyer, she’d better start walking.

      * * *

      SAWYER MIGHT HAVE missed her if he hadn’t decided to swing by her apartment and make sure she’d made it home okay. It was a thinly veiled excuse to see her, but he didn’t much care at this point. She’d dodged him twice, and while he probably deserved it, he’d been hurt that she’d broken her promise to stick around at the coffee shop. He was preparing what to say to her as he drove, speaking the words aloud to the silence of his rental car.

      “Rory, I know I don’t deserve it, but I would appreciate it if you could respect the relationship we had enough to hear me out.”

      He cringed, considering how she’d respond to that little speech. It wasn’t as if he’d exhibited a lot of respect for their relationship when he’d dumped her. He drew a breath and tried again.

      “It would mean a lot to me if you’d just listen to what I have to say.”

      No better. He didn’t think she was much interested in what would mean a lot to him.

      He cleared his throat and considered how to rephrase his request, then stopped as he noted a lone figure, striding briskly down the sidewalk ahead. He’d know those stiff shoulders anywhere. He accelerated a few feet ahead and slid the car into an empty space on the street. He killed the engine and exited the driver’s side just as Rory came abreast of the truck. She took one look at him and her jaw went slack.

      “You followed me?”

      “Hardly. You didn’t give me much of a chance to follow you anywhere after you bailed back at the Lighthouse.” He tried to keep his tone even, but a note of accusation still leaked through. “You promised you’d stay.”

      She shifted from one foot to the other, and he recognized guilt in her expression. “I did stay,” she protested. “I stayed for your entire performance. Although if I’d known you planned to ambush me into taking the stage with you—”

      “Which was not so different from what you did to me,” he pointed out. He had her there, and he could tell she knew it, too, by the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Her shoulders remained set, however.

      “Rory, can we please talk?”

      “You mean can you talk? I don’t imagine I’ll have much to say. And even if I did, it’s not as if you asked my opinion the last time we talked.”

      He grimaced. Okay, so she was still hurt. Not that he could blame her, but maybe it had been a touch of arrogance on his part to assume she’d welcome him back, if not exactly warmly, then at least not with this degree of vehemence.

      He glanced down the street. “Look, your apartment is only a few blocks from here. Let me drive you home. I’ll talk on the way. If you don’t like anything I have to say by the time we reach your place...” He drew a breath, afraid to gamble away his chance but knowing he couldn’t exactly keep showing up where he wasn’t wanted. “Then I’ll leave you alone. For good. Deal?”

      She didn’t answer him right away but scuffed her heels on the pavement as she considered. After a long minute, during which he was pretty sure he’d held his breath for the entire sixty seconds, she nodded.

      “Fine. Just until we reach the apartment.”

      He should have felt relief, but he only experienced a wave of apprehension. He had less than five minutes to convince her.

      He would have to talk fast.