More Than She Expected

“You made these?”

“I sure did, honey.”

Almost reverently, Laurel lifted one from the plate and took her first bite. “Oh. My. God. These are incredible!”

“Thank you!” Starla beamed. “It’s my own recipe! Please—take as many as you want!”

Laurel laughed, that deep, genuine sound Ty was already coming to like way, way too much. “You might regret saying that,” she said, and picked up two more. Without even a single, “I really shouldn’t...”

“Here, let me put some in a bag for you...”

Starla scooted back inside, her dress billowing behind her, and Ty said, “You must be really hungry.”

Laurel grinned...and chomped off another bite. “These are really good. I mean, insanely good. Here—” She held one out. “Taste it—”

“Not a huge fan of butterscotch, but thanks. You, however, have made Starla’s day.”

Her forehead crimped. “The cookies are wonderful. So I told her so. No big deal.”

For her, maybe not.

Tyler thought about the girls he usually went with, with their done-up hair and made-up faces and pushed-up boobs, and how he’d always liked that, how they’d make all this effort to look good for him. How they’d have a little fun, for a little while, only then somebody would get bored, and it’d be all “No hard feelings, ’kay?” and that would be that. Because life was just easier with built-in expiration dates.

Except here comes this chick who clearly doesn’t give a crap how she looks, she’s not trying to impress anybody, especially not him, and suddenly it’s all wham-a-bam-ding-dong inside his chest? What the hell?

Starla returned with a plastic zipper bag, filling it with most of the cookies as her instant fan kept on with the gushing. And Tyler had to admit, it wasn’t exactly breaking him up, to see how happy that made the older woman. Who he knew hadn’t had a whole lot of happy, for a very long time.

Not wanting to think about that, however, he returned his attention to Laurel. “So. Does my work meet your exacting standards?”

A breeze came up, sending a strand of hair into her mouth as she chewed. She yanked it out, making a face. “Not that I know from walls, really, but...sure. Let’s do this. You said the block yard’s not far?”

“Maybe ten, fifteen minutes. Our houses are on the way, might as well drop off the dog. We can go ahead and order everything now, if you want.”

“Sounds good.” She hesitated. “Soon as I take another potty break.” Another faint blush swept across her cheeks. “That’s what I get for drinking way too much tea earlier, sorry.”

He watched her walk back into the house, thinking, this was somebody who was cool with who she was. What she was. Who could talk about peeing without getting all coy about it...who Tyler guessed never faked anything. Which, even more than all the surface stuff, was why this wham-a-bam business was for the birds.

Because Tyler didn’t know who he was. Not entirely. His whole life...it was like one big lie, wasn’t it? Okay, maybe not a lie, exactly. A mystery, then.

He looked at Starla, snapping the top back on the cookie container, the only person in the world, as far as he knew, who held the key that would unlock that mystery. And until that happened—if it ever did—the Laurels of the world were strictly off-limits.

No matter how warm inside their laughs made him feel.

Chapter Two

“Mind if I put on some music?” Tyler asked when they got back in his truck. Because right now, his brain—among other things—needed to chill. And if he couldn’t make Laurel stop smelling so good, or her eyes less blue, or her laugh less arousing, maybe music would distract him from noticing. At least, not as much.

“Not at all,” she said, clutching her giant purse like it might make a break for it if she didn’t. And yes, he caught the slight smile when, from his docked iPod, his favorite band started playing. Followed by an almost-imperceptible headshake.

“You don’t like Green Day?” he asked.

“It’s just been a while since I listened to them,” she said, still with the irritating little smile. Tyler tapped the button on the steering wheel, turned the music off.

“No, it’s okay, you don’t have to—”

“Wasn’t in the mood, anyway.”

They reached the end of the block, turned onto the main drag. Behind them, the dog panted. Laurel shifted a little in her seat. “Starla’s certainly a sweetheart, isn’t she?”

Great. Now she decides to talk. When talking was the last thing he wanted to do. Being around Starla did that to him, never mind how annoyed he got for letting it—her—get to him. However, instead of taking his noncommittal grunt as her cue to drop the subject, Laurel said, “She reminds me a little of my mother. Although Mom would’ve been, let’s see...sixty-one by now. Wow. There’s a weird thought.”

Tyler glanced over, frowning. “Would have been?”

“Yeah,” she said on a sigh. But not one of those pouty, poor-me sounds that drove him nuts. “She died when I was eleven.”

“Oh.” He looked back out the windshield. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago. More than twenty years. Speaking of weird. They say time heals everything, but I’m not sure that’s true. Wears down the sharp edges, maybe, so they don’t hurt anymore. Or at least not as much...” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “And I’m rambling, sorry. Must be the sugar rush from the cookies.”

“No problem.” Since as long as she talked, he didn’t have to. Or deal with the crazy thoughts swirling inside his head. But since she’d brought up the subject...

“And your dad...?”

She hesitated, then said flatly, “Heart attack when I was fifteen. But I didn’t see him much, anyway, after my mother died.”

Pain flashed, like stubbing an already-sore toe. “Why not?”

“Who knows? Wasn’t as if we ever discussed it. Although my guess is that he couldn’t see himself as a single father. Or any kind of father, frankly, since he’d never been real hands-on before.”

He spared her a quick glance. “So where’d you end up living?”

“With my grandmother. My mom’s mom.”

“And was that...okay?”

“Actually it was the best thing that could have happened. I adored her, for one thing. And at least she wanted me. My father obviously didn’t. And since my grandfather had died a year or so before, well...we kept each other from falling apart. I know Gran did me, anyway.”

They stopped for a red light. “What a crappy thing to do to a kid. Your dad, I mean.”

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “People are who they are. They don’t change simply because you want them to.” Her shoulders bumped. “So like I said, it worked out the way it was supposed to—”

Boomer started barking at some dog in the car next to them. Tyler reached around and yanked the mutt back from the window. “You don’t own the street, dumbass— Hey! Knock it off! Lay down!”

On a frustrated sigh, the dog obeyed. Only to whumph-whumph under his breath for the next several seconds, making Laurel chuckle.

“So is your grandmother still around?” Tyler asked as the light changed.

“Oh, yeah. You might’ve seen her. Tiny, white-haired? Drives a Prius?”