snagged two sodas and an Ohio map on their way to the pharmacy department.
"Why are you still here?" Eric's gesture took in the whole town.
"Where else would I go? My family has been here for a hundred years. My parents still live in the house I grew up in. My sister and her kids are in Geneva. All my cousins are scattered around the county. "
"Girl, I've got family scattered from D.C. to L.A. Wherever I get my next job is where I'm going to live. Just because I grew up in Cincinnati doesn't mean I'm going to stay there. Lexington is right across the river. Nashville is a short drive south of there. Atlanta is just south of Nashville. It's a big country."
"He just called your name," June said, pointing to the counter. They didn't speak while he paid for his purchases. They walked out to her car before they started talking again.
"How do you move just like that?" June cocked her head at him.
"It's not that hard. You pack your stuff, load it into a truck and leave."
"Yeah, right," June snorted. Her house was full of three generations of stuff. What would she do with it all? He was a drifter – rootless and footloose. He didn't have a clue.
As soon as they were out of the store, he cracked open the soda and took two pills. "You should come south." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Cincinnati is just down the road."
"No thanks." She thought of the garden, her chickens and the spring hidden in the woods. Where else could she have all that?
"You can buy a house anywhere."
"A house is just a building; a home is where the heart is." Her voice sounded prim even to her ears.
It was Eric's turn to roll his eyes.
"Give me a break." But he grinned at her and tweaked her hair. "Lighten up."
They changed the subject to music and had a pleasant drive back to her house. Once there, Eric went quiet; he went right to the garage. He didn't say a word of thanks.
June stomped in the house, feeling huffy and disgruntled.
By the time he came in to ask if she had an air compressor, June was ready for him to leave. The sooner he was gone, the better. There was a small one in her car. She watched as he aired up the front tire of the bike.
"That second pill was a freaking mistake," he mumbled. He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head.
No, he was in no shape to drive. Her pique vanished and her compassion took over.
"Then go upstairs and sleep it off."
He grumbled under his breath.
"Anything is better than risking a second crash. You could kill yourself next time."
"I'm fine."
"Right. I'm going back in the house." She left him in the garage to go back to her chores. A little later she heard him come back into the house. She left the office to see what he needed.
"Is that offer still good?" His words were slurred.
"Yes, go sleep it off."
"Thanks." He shambled up the stairs; the dogs followed him.
Later, when June checked on them, Eric was crashed out, the dogs snoozing with him. Laughing to herself, she gently covered all three with an old quilt.
Back in the kitchen she started a crock pot supper, then went to the garage to work on her soap. The bike watched her from the center of the mat with gleaming yellow eyes. June twitched the folded sheet off the work bench to cover the beast so it couldn't look at her. She flipped the sheet open, like a matador would flap his cape at a bull, flinging the sheet over the motorcycle.
If Eric asked why she'd covered it, she would say so it wouldn't get dirty. Dusting her hands off with a flourish, she turned back to her soap.
A cold breeze tickled the back of her neck, like the touch of a snake's tongue. June wheeled, clasping the back of her neck as she broke out in goose pimples.
Was that laughter?
The sheet was on the floor, cold energy radiating from Eric's motorcycle like an open freezer. The baleful yellow eyes dared her to do something about it.
June fled back to the house.
The awful, creepy cold clung to her like nasty, sticky cobwebs. Like mud, it got tracked around the
"Why are you still here?" Eric's gesture took in the whole town.
"Where else would I go? My family has been here for a hundred years. My parents still live in the house I grew up in. My sister and her kids are in Geneva. All my cousins are scattered around the county. "
"Girl, I've got family scattered from D.C. to L.A. Wherever I get my next job is where I'm going to live. Just because I grew up in Cincinnati doesn't mean I'm going to stay there. Lexington is right across the river. Nashville is a short drive south of there. Atlanta is just south of Nashville. It's a big country."
"He just called your name," June said, pointing to the counter. They didn't speak while he paid for his purchases. They walked out to her car before they started talking again.
"How do you move just like that?" June cocked her head at him.
"It's not that hard. You pack your stuff, load it into a truck and leave."
"Yeah, right," June snorted. Her house was full of three generations of stuff. What would she do with it all? He was a drifter – rootless and footloose. He didn't have a clue.
As soon as they were out of the store, he cracked open the soda and took two pills. "You should come south." He raised his eyebrows at her. "Cincinnati is just down the road."
"No thanks." She thought of the garden, her chickens and the spring hidden in the woods. Where else could she have all that?
"You can buy a house anywhere."
"A house is just a building; a home is where the heart is." Her voice sounded prim even to her ears.
It was Eric's turn to roll his eyes.
"Give me a break." But he grinned at her and tweaked her hair. "Lighten up."
They changed the subject to music and had a pleasant drive back to her house. Once there, Eric went quiet; he went right to the garage. He didn't say a word of thanks.
June stomped in the house, feeling huffy and disgruntled.
By the time he came in to ask if she had an air compressor, June was ready for him to leave. The sooner he was gone, the better. There was a small one in her car. She watched as he aired up the front tire of the bike.
"That second pill was a freaking mistake," he mumbled. He rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head.
No, he was in no shape to drive. Her pique vanished and her compassion took over.
"Then go upstairs and sleep it off."
He grumbled under his breath.
"Anything is better than risking a second crash. You could kill yourself next time."
"I'm fine."
"Right. I'm going back in the house." She left him in the garage to go back to her chores. A little later she heard him come back into the house. She left the office to see what he needed.
"Is that offer still good?" His words were slurred.
"Yes, go sleep it off."
"Thanks." He shambled up the stairs; the dogs followed him.
Later, when June checked on them, Eric was crashed out, the dogs snoozing with him. Laughing to herself, she gently covered all three with an old quilt.
Back in the kitchen she started a crock pot supper, then went to the garage to work on her soap. The bike watched her from the center of the mat with gleaming yellow eyes. June twitched the folded sheet off the work bench to cover the beast so it couldn't look at her. She flipped the sheet open, like a matador would flap his cape at a bull, flinging the sheet over the motorcycle.
If Eric asked why she'd covered it, she would say so it wouldn't get dirty. Dusting her hands off with a flourish, she turned back to her soap.
A cold breeze tickled the back of her neck, like the touch of a snake's tongue. June wheeled, clasping the back of her neck as she broke out in goose pimples.
Was that laughter?
The sheet was on the floor, cold energy radiating from Eric's motorcycle like an open freezer. The baleful yellow eyes dared her to do something about it.
June fled back to the house.
The awful, creepy cold clung to her like nasty, sticky cobwebs. Like mud, it got tracked around the
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